Last night was a good reminder that songs need somewhere to go. My band played “Prisoner of Zegna” live for the first time, just after submitting it for FOOM 2026. That song started as an idea and some lyrics in a room. Then it became a rough recording to help flesh it out. Then a competition entry. Then, finally, something played in front of actual people. That’s the bit I keep coming back to with Room to Record. The room matters, but only because it helps you make things. A song does not have to be perfect before it leaves the room. It just has to leave. Give it a deadline. Give it a gig. Give it a person waiting to hear it. Give it somewhere to go.

I’m starting a short series on Creative Friction: the gap between wanting to make something and actually getting it made. It’s for anyone building a room, a habit, a project, a body of work, or just trying to get one stubborn idea out of their head and into the world. Part 1 is about the thing I keep running into myself: The problem is not always the idea, the gear, the room or the plan. Sometimes the problem is the landing This is a post about overwhelm, procrastination and juggling. I have my awesome home studio setup. It is working really well. I have songs written and half-recorded. I have ideas percolating. I have gear ready to use. I have the room. I have the plan. What I don’t always have, and what always seems elusive, even when I nail it for a while, is the time to actually SIT DOWN AND DO IT. And it comes from a few different places. Some obvious. Some sneaky. My day job: I currently have assignments to mark, grades to finalise for the end of term, and the next term of teaching already creeping over the horizon like a polite academic swamp monster. My side-hustle business: I have 3 client projects on the go. One is well under control, but the other 2 need to get, this week, to the beautiful magical SEND INVOICE stage. My other side hustles: I have this Skool group, plus a small sales business I’m trying to build, because apparently one side-hustle was too emotionally sensible. My bands: I’m in 3 of them, including the one that plays the songs I’m trying to record in the room. So there are rehearsals a couple of times a week, and on the weekend there was a gig where 2 of them played. The dogs are looking at me like: “Why haven’t we been out yet? It’s not raining TODAY.” And then there’s the weird part. The studio is not the problem. The gear is not the problem. The songs are not the problem. The problem is the landing. It is getting from “I want to record” to “I am sitting in the chair, the session is open, the guitar is plugged in, and I am doing one small useful thing.”

I have been a little bit behind on progress for a few weeks, but I’m going to be building this group properly over the next few weeks, so here’s what’s coming... Room to Record is about more than just home studio gear. The bigger question is: how do you build a creative space that actually gets used? A room that helps you start. Record. Finish. Release. Share. Maybe even make a bit of income from the work. Over the next 3 weeks I’ll be posting around three main themes: 1. The Room Itself Home studio setup, layout, workflow, gear, cables, storage, comfort, acoustics, and all the little details that either make recording easier or quietly sabotage you. 2. The Psychology Creative friction, procrastination, unfinished songs, confidence, distraction, and why having the gear does not automatically mean you use it. Rude, but apparently true. 3. The Technology The tools that help turn the room into a working system: recording software, plugins, templates, file management, online platforms, distribution tools, websites, social media, and simple ways to make the tech serve the work instead of swallowing the whole day. 4. The Output Turning the space into actual work: demos, songs, releases, content, promotion, products, and ways to get your music or creative projects out into the world. I’ll also be adding classroom content as I go, including simple resources, prompts, checklists, and short challenges. First up will be things like a creative space check, a friction finder, and a short room reset challenge. Let’s make the room do something.

Sometimes you need to physically see the room before you fully understand it… I recently took my 6-year-old son to our local library where, alongside books and video games, they have a huge table full of LEGO. Usually I spend the time looking through the vinyl LPs or involuntarily colour-coding all the LEGO pieces like some kind of mildly broken designer goblin. But this time, without really thinking about it, I started building a model of the studio. At first it seemed silly. Then I realised it’s basically the same process. Moving furniture around. Testing layouts.Working out where things fit. Once Freddy finished making his amazing “super transparent car,” he realised what I was doing and immediately joined in. “We need the yellow carpet, Dad…” And suddenly we were thinking about workflow, movement, storage, sound, lighting and comfort. A lot of home studio advice online jumps straight to expensive gear, but the actual room matters more than people admit. The shape of the space. The listening position. Where cables collect. Where instruments end up. Where clutter starts. Whether the room actually makes you want to create. Sometimes creativity starts with experimentation that looks a bit ridiculous from the outside. Sketches. Tape on floors. Cardboard mockups. Why not LEGO? Tiny desks made from random bricks, while your kid explains why the dragon needs laser cannons. This process matters. Because eventually the room stops being an abstract idea and starts becoming a real creative environment built around how you actually live and work. And honestly, building creative spaces while raising kids probably deserves its own category entirely. There’s also something strangely appropriate about designing a creative space using the same kind of building process most of us grew up with in the first place. Tiny pieces. Gradual experimentation. Changing the plan halfway through. Making a mess. Rebuilding sections repeatedly until they finally feel right. Which, honestly, describes most home studios pretty accurately.

After spending weeks building, adjusting, reorganising, painting, tweaking, and slowly turning this space into something usable… eventually you have to stop working on the room and actually use it. That’s the part people don’t talk about enough. A home studio can quietly become a permanent setup project. There’s always another thing to improve. Another cable to fix. Another plugin to buy. Another video to watch. At some point though, the room has to justify its existence. So here is the first recording that came from the room finally becoming a place for actual output instead of endless preparation. “Dealing Drugs” was written by Tom Smith and recorded in the new home studio to meet an external deadline. It was later mixed and mastered at Hillside Studios by Matt Hills, before being released in January 2026 on The Glorious Rebirth… by Baulk at the Möön (more on that in a future post). https://open.spotify.com/track/33bw4zPtGm4KeMmwkbIczF?si=40edcd543fb14bf9 Tom’s original demo was a raw acoustic guitar-and-vocal recording captured on a mobile phone. It's also part of his forthcoming concept album about crime and justice. I approached the arrangement as a strange fusion of 90s grunge and hip-hop, which was completely new territory for me, and asked my friend Adam Szkolka to record the main vocals.