The story of BERRY in the BOX and JERRY in the BASEMENT

Welcome to Jerryberrystreet — population: two studios. Read all about it :

I live in the charmingly fictional Jerryberrystreet—a place so harmonious it might as well be a concept album. My neighbour Jerry is not just a friendly face but also my sonic counterpart. We’re like peanut butter and jelly, if jelly had a vintage Neve console and peanut butter ran everything through a MacBook.

Neighbour Jerry—whose studio lurks menacingly across the street in his basement—lives in glorious analog: a cavern filled with microphones, guitars, and enough vintage gear to make a ’70s rock band weep with joy. Meanwhile, I’m over here in my shoebox of a studio, gleefully running my entire “rig” off a single laptop. Yep, that one miracle machine doubles as my mixing console, effects rack, virtual amps, tape machines, and an embarrassingly long list of synths (every single one I’ve ever owned—or ever dreamed of owning—is inside, just a click away).

Don’t get me wrong: I still hoard some actual vintage kit, but I choose not to use it. I realize that might sound about as thrilling as a beige wall in 2025, but let’s be honest—if I had both a sexy studio and my natural good looks, it would simply be unfair to the rest of humanity.