Let’s be real for a second. A few years ago, I wasn’t exactly planning on building a professional recording studio. I was mostly planning on becoming a ghost.
When I walked away from the 9-5 grind at the start of the pandemic, I was crispy. Burnt toast. It was the last in a long conga line of dead-end gigs, and I was so disillusioned with the “real world” that I literally let my cell phone service lapse. For two years. I just… opted out. If you wanted to reach me, you had to shout really loud or send a carrier pigeon.
It was a quiet time. A brooding time. A time of me staring at walls and wondering if the aliens were ever going to come pick me up.
But then 2025 happened.
If the pandemic years were my hermitage, 2025 was the year I kicked the door off the hinges. I call it the “Year of Socialization & Music,” which sounds like a mandatory corporate retreat, but was actually the most fun I’ve had in decades.
Over the last 12 months, over a dozen different artists walked into my living room here in Richmond. We drank coffee, we made noise, and we captured lightning in a bottle. I remembered that I’m not just a guy who listens to songs and albums—I’m a guy who makes them.
Something clicked. My senses sharpened. The rust fell off the gears. I realized I wasn’t just hoarding audio equipment; I was building something.
I’m building an Ark.
Look around. The world is getting weird, right? It feels a bit like a flood is coming—a flood of noise, of AI-generated content slop, of sterility.
Panama Sound is my Ark. It’s a vessel built to carry the good stuff through. It’s built out of hot transformers and high fidelity, it’s built out of a wildflower garden with butterflies. It’s built to keep the “kick-the-door” intensity and passion in the music safe while the water rises.
So, here is the announcement.
As of January 1, 2026, Panama Sound is officially, earnestly, 100% Open for Business.
I’m done with the dead-end jobs. This is it. I’m pushing all the chips to the center of the table. My skills are honed, the gear is incredible, I’ve met some amazing people in 2025 and I have a really, really good feeling about 2026.
I don’t want to run a sterile lab where we wear lab coats and worry about “perfect.” I want to capture the thing that makes your chest hurt when you hear it, or stifle a tear. Vibe is King here.
If you want to help me load the Ark, give me a shout. The phone is back on. The microphones are live. The coffee is hot and blacker than a moonless night.
Let’s make something loud.