*Introduction & Disclaimer
The following text was originally published on November 10, 2007. The content regarding PCs and DAWs is based on the situation at that time and differs from the present (for the record, as of 2025, I use Cubase on Windows).
The main theme of this article is “the role of the DAW in production,” and I am publishing it with the understanding that the datedness of the PC and DAW information does not affect this theme.
I would appreciate it if you would read on with these points in mind.
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The following is a slightly edited and revised version of the article from November 10, 2007.
On Overhauling My PC
Last month, I overhauled my computer environment. Although I had often thought, “It’s high time for an upgrade,” I kept putting it off with excuses like, “This one is still usable…” But I finally took the plunge and went through with a complete renewal.
Much of the PC equipment and software I had been using was no longer supported by the manufacturers, exuding an air of “equipment turning into fossils as it ceases to advance.”
Consequently, the number of cases where new digital technologies wouldn’t run in my environment increased year by year. To be honest, I had been feeling quite constrained in many ways.
(To be specific about the overhaul: I switched the core of my production, the sequencer, from the Windows version of Logic 4.8 to SONAR 7, and got a mid-range PC with a Core2Duo processor. I also finally introduced software instruments (virtual instruments) that I had been eyeing but couldn’t run in my old environment. I briefly considered returning to Mac & Logic, but after overall consideration, I decided to stick with Windows.)
So, I plan to write about this environmental overhaul, but I intend to focus not on “events and information” but rather on “what I felt and thought.”
The main pillars of the overhaul were the computer and the sequencer (music production software, or DAW). This time, I considered these “hardware and software” aspects in parallel. To be precise, there were other things to consider, and some were actually introduced, but for this discussion, I will focus on these two.
First, the computer. It’s a tool of civilization, in the literal sense, that plays a crucial role in my music production. Since the DAW and virtual instruments all perform their functions within this computer, it goes without saying that it’s a piece of equipment that absolutely must work correctly.
Frankly, I was completely out of the loop regarding PCs, so the process of making an appropriate choice was quite a challenge.
I had to re-learn about PC-related hardware, estimate the necessary performance, and then search online for semi-custom-made PCs from various shops, and so on.
However, a major gain from this process for someone who treats a PC as a musical instrument was being able to re-study subjects like the memory management methods of the Windows OS (I’ll omit the technical details).
What I realized anew during this time was that when searching for things I don’t understand online, the tendency to judge correctness or appropriateness by “search result ranking or majority rule” can be a bigger trap than one might imagine.
What’s crucial is to correctly grasp the “context that forms the premise of the answer,” as well as the existence and credibility of the evidence supporting it. I was keenly reminded that it all comes down to the basics.
For example, there were cases where common knowledge or wisdom from the internet turned out to be a major pitfall. I even found instances where basic recommended OS settings frequently seen online could now actually degrade performance.
Ironically, the true answer that helped me avoid that trap was clearly stated in information publicly available from Microsoft.
However, for some reason, that information is not widely known, is often disregarded, or in certain online communities, a different consensus has been formed, along the lines of, “Microsoft says that, but doing this is actually better.”
For example, there’s a famous recommendation to set memory usage in Windows to “System Cache.” However, Microsoft’s site states that “this is a mode exclusively for server use, and on general PCs, it can actually cause performance degradation and increase instability.” Nevertheless, this setting has been widely circulated as a basic tune-up for music production PCs since Windows 2000 for a long time.
In the end, following the principle of “more haste, less speed,” I decided to diligently engage in some “cramming” with the aim of “understanding the new concepts and forming a mental model of them (i.e., being able to visualize the whole system schematically).”
The approach of looking for how-to guides from predecessors after gaining some understanding of the terminology is a shortcut, but it ultimately doesn’t go beyond the realm of “because some authority said so.” It also leaves a great deal of anxiety about future troubles, without any conviction that the answer truly fits one’s own case.
In contrast, by roughly understanding things like “What is address space in a multitasking OS anyway?” or “Windows as an implementation of the virtual PC concept,” one gradually begins to see which parts truly require attention and which do not.
Though it was difficult in practice, I feel I’ve corrected some of my misunderstandings and lack of understanding about Windows. As a result, I’ve reached a point of personal satisfaction for now, and the new PC is running as robustly as I had anticipated, so I’m very pleased and relieved.
I don’t deny that I might be going a bit overboard, but I suspect the necessity and significance of going through such a process is, for me, in some ways the same as ordering a custom-made instrument like a guitar.
Custom-ordering an instrument can vary widely, but I believe a person’s style naturally emerges through the process, in the dedication to certain details and the path of understanding one chooses to walk.
For example, when having a guitar built, you consider what kind of wood to use, the relationship between the body and fretboard materials, what characteristics they have, how that relates to your music, what you desire, what is preferable, and what you will choose, and so on.
And in seeking those answers, you acquire ancient and modern knowledge, learn wisdom, visit workshops to meet craftsmen, ask for their teachings, get exposed to their philosophies on instruments, and even listen to their philosophies on life, which in turn leads to introspection, and so on.
In my case, I love the certain “conviction” I feel when I hold an instrument that has been created through such a process, and I think I seek that in all fields, not just music.
I can almost hear a voice over my head saying, “As long as it works (or makes a sound), that’s good enough,” but I can’t so easily change my own disposition.
To use a slightly exaggerated analogy from another angle, perhaps this process is a ritual, a ceremony. You could call it a “jichinsai,” a groundbreaking ceremony where a Shinto priest recites prayers to purify the land before a major construction project begins.
When viewed as such a ritualistic act, it makes a certain sense that for things I’m passionate about, I’m not satisfied until I’ve earnestly and enthusiastically researched and studied them to my heart’s content. I just hope I’m not shrinking back in fear of making a mistake… but who knows?
So, that’s how my new PC came to be, but the real challenge lay in switching my sequencer (DAW).
Switching My Sequencer (DAW)
The sequencer (DAW) is the foundational software of a production environment. When making music on a PC, it’s an interface that connects you to the resounding music, in some ways more crucial than the keyboard itself.
In other words, it’s the core of music production, and switching sequencers is, to put it extremely, an event akin to “changing the instrument you’ve used for years.”
For that reason, I had hesitated to switch until now, but it was an unavoidable path to transition to a new music production environment, so I had to start searching for a new DAW.
I searched for a DAW that could do what I did in my previous environment and, if I were to be greedy, one that might resolve my prior frustrations. I ultimately decided on SONAR and finally entered the stage of creating practice pieces as a break-in period for the new environment.
Now, a large part of getting used to a new DAW involves investigating how to perform the same processes and procedures I did in my old DAW on the new one, and mastering them through creating these practice pieces.
Each DAW, new and old, has its own editing philosophy, so it’s impossible to expect the exact same operating methods or editing procedures.
Therefore, one is naturally confronted with “numerous differences” arising from the distinct design concepts of each DAW. The results of each task may be the same, but the processes to get there are completely different.
Discovering a new path to a certain destination (task result), and the process of understanding and mastering it, brings a sense of accomplishment and relief along with a great deal of stress. This in itself is very enjoyable and piques my curiosity.
Now, let’s say that in the old DAW, I had a task of “adjusting the length of a note by mouse-dragging while using a shortcut key.”
I would then try to see if I could do the same thing in the new DAW, or what process I would need to follow to achieve something similar, by consulting the manual.
Let’s assume that, fortunately, I find that a similar task is possible with a comparable amount of effort and procedure. However, for some reason, I might still feel a certain stress or sense of dissatisfaction.
In the example above, even though I found that the goal of “quickly editing a note to any desired length with the mouse” could be met in the new DAW, I still felt dissatisfied for some reason.
Incidentally, and not limited to this example, it’s often about trivial things—things that I myself would want to point out, “Well, you can do the same thing this other way, can’t you?”
What I realized then was that the task I was performing in the old DAW was not just a mere procedure to achieve an editing result, but that the act of performing and experiencing that task itself was, in fact, an unconscious, “hidden” objective.
In other words, I was seeking to “experience and savor” that “single editing task” almost without being aware of it. And that experience is at a very physical level.
My eyes follow the screen, locking onto the target data. My right hand casually moves the mouse, my index finger clicks and holds it, my left pinky presses the CTRL key, my right wrist begins to move smoothly along with my elbow, and in response, the data on the screen changes with an accompanying sound, while my eyes and ears continue to capture the scene in detail.
My consciousness vaguely perceives this situation through some metaphor, experiencing the entire flow. Examples of metaphors might include “peeling MIDI data” instead of “peeling potatoes,” or “shaving the peach fuzz off parameters.”
The important point is that this experience itself brings me some kind of “physical comfort,” and its repetition is executed while being perceived as something like a physical rhythm.
It is often said that “rhythm is important when handling tools,” and DAWs are no exception. The rhythm in small operations is crucial, and one could say it creates a certain kind of physical comfort.
This “tool experience accompanied by physical comfort” is something I had naturally felt with familiar, physical tools like fountain pens or scissors.
Working on a computer involves manipulating digital information through a mouse, keyboard, and display—a virtual event from the perspective of physical reality, handled with a sense of separation between “this side” and “the other side.” It could be described as frustratingly indirect and quite distorted.
However, I believe that people can derive an experience of physical comfort even from such tasks.
Tools like PC applications and software are inevitably characterized by “the sequential application of logical procedures to achieve a target result.” Therefore, there is a tendency to focus too much on the interchangeability of processes due to the emphasis on the final result.
The belief that “if I use another software that is ‘more functional & higher performance,’ I will surely get ‘better and better’ results” is often touted, and one of the reasons for this is this “interchangeability of processes” (in this case, it extends beyond the task level to the outcome level).
Alongside that aspect, it is also an important fact that physical words expressing an inability to let go of a tool are commonly seen, such as “this word processing software just feels right in my hands” or “the nimbleness and responsiveness of this photo editing software is addictive.”
It is likely that behind these statements lies an accumulation of “pleasant experiences” that fit the user’s physical rhythm.
And the “numerous, subtle feelings of wrongness” one might feel when actively or passively switching tools likely assail the user so sharply and severely precisely because they are rooted in their own physical rhythm.
When faced with this fact, instead of glorifying the old environment and cursing the new one, I believe that by adopting a perspective that examines whether what one is seeking is a “procedure for a result” or an “experience accompanied by physical comfort,” a path toward a solution may begin to emerge.
And I believe it is healthy to consciously embrace the “high interchangeability of processes” characteristic of PC software, while exploring new physical experiences and actively building and creating one’s own systems.
Now, to return to my case, I am still on the path of this transition. While there are times I think bitterly, “It’s better than nothing, even with a different process,” or “I still prefer Logic,” I’m fortunate that further detailed investigation has very often led to discovering even more convenient procedures and new features.
And by physically experiencing these anew, I am enjoying a very satisfying and fulfilling transition process overall. The creative experience of making many small practice pieces is also something I haven’t done in a long time, and I am enjoying a renewed sense of freshness.
However, this is likely greatly aided by the fact that my old DAW was an antique, so most of its functions are covered by the current DAW in a superior, backward-compatible manner.
In conclusion, this could all be summed up as “switching production tools is a pain” or “it made me think about the field of experience design,” but I feel that this kind of conscious reflection is unavoidable in order to elevate one’s own experiences into “wisdom,” which is why I decided to write it down this time.
