I Had the Tools – But Something Was Missing in My Music

I kept hitting a ceiling. I had the tools, I had the sessions, but there was something underneath the music I couldn't quite get to.

I used to use Cthulhu a lot – a plugin that maps from chords so everything stays in key. It solved a real problem – getting musical ideas out quickly without needing to think through every musical interval.

But the relationship between what the chords were doing and what the bass or melody should do against them – that required knowledge I didn't always have at the right moment.

The Missing Link

I've done sessions from the start, back in the early nineties. For the past fifteen years they've been my income and my weekly work. Different producers coming through, each one bringing a different angle.

Some were deep in samples – chopping, layering, building something new out of something that already existed. Others were writing everything from scratch, fully composed pieces with real harmonic movement. Some were coming from techno, some from house, some from a corner of the scene I hadn't thought much about before.

Every session taught me something. Sessions cost money, and I was always aware of that – whoever came in had to leave feeling like they’d achieved something. Working creatively inside a specific time frame is tough. That pressure shaped how I think about the tools I reach for.

Understanding Chord Progressions in Music Production

Through all of that – the sessions, the studying, the listening – something became clear: the movement between chords.

Not just what they are, but why one leads to another. Why something resolves. Why it brings you back to the start without you thinking about it.

That's the backbone. The bass follows it. The melody reflects it. Even samples are doing it – you might not analyse them, but the movement is still there.

I've always loved working with samples. Taking something that already exists and finding a completely different track inside it – a different groove, a different feel, a different life. But what I was missing was understanding why it worked.

I didn't want more options. I wanted something that could deal with harmony and rhythm the way a producer actually uses them. Not academically – practically.

Building the System

So I started building.

Chord progressions first, then bass and melody – working out how the parts sit against each other and how they move together. Then drum rhythms, chord rhythms, the logic of how rhythm and harmony lock. Each piece informing the next.

It didn’t stay loose for long.

The more I worked on it, the more it needed to be right.

Not just sound right – actually be right.

The relationships between the parts.

What could move, what couldn’t.

What would always work, and what wouldn’t.

So that’s what it became.

Something that holds all of that in place –

without you having to think about it.

Parts that already agree.

A Missing Layer

Then a producer friend got in touch out of the blue. One of those calls that arrives at exactly the right moment. He pointed me toward counterpoint and cadence – not as an abstract theory concept, but as something with a direct practical application in electronic music.

We had a few calls about it. I researched it properly, built several versions, and eventually arrived at a fully working counterpoint system. When he heard it, he said it was the best he'd come across.

Counterpoint is what separates a bass line from a bass part.

It’s movement.

Independence.

Two things happening at once that don’t fight each other.

The Hook and the Drone

The hook came from a different place. I was listening to one of Dixon's mixes and was reminded of something I'd been using for years without ever formalising – those short, one-bar rhythmic melodies that run through a track. Not the main event, but always there. Always doing something.

That became the hook engine. The drone came from the same instinct – the classic constant underneath everything, the note that doesn't move, creating atmosphere or suspense while the rest of the arrangement breathes around it.

A Different Way of Listening

As it developed, something shifted in how I listen to music.

When I hear a track, I find myself asking:

Can the workstation make that?

If it can't, I work on it until it can.

Closing the Gap

That's become the development process. Not a feature list, not a roadmap – just listening, asking the question, and closing the gap.

It's not trying to replace the samples or the DAW. It's the thing I'm reaching for before all of that, when I need to find where the music wants to go.

It helps with creativity by removing the wrong turns.

The notes that don’t belong.

The decisions that slow a session down.

How It Works

Pick a key,

load a preset,

press play,

and follow it.

Try It

Some sessions start with a clear idea. Some start with defaults and a cup of tea. Either way, something's playing within minutes, and the rest is just following it.

The DNA Workstation is free to use in your browser.

Try it here