This is a picture of my old Juno-106

Would You like to hear about how I bought it?

That is a Roland Juno-106 Synthesizer. Don’t worry about why it says "Kiwi-106" on the right-hand side just yet. It was 2014. Here’s a quick bit about friendship, ADHD and how I bought it.

Ah, the mighty Roland Juno-106—you can read all about the synthesizer here. I bought it on an impulse at a store in Manhattan called Rogue Music. They’re still going strong in the jungle of retail music instrument sales! Here’s their website. They’re nice people.

I have ADHD, so impulsive purchases are kind of my thing. I’m working on it. At the time, Rogue Music was charging about $900 for it, which was a killer price for such a legend, and that made perfect sense to me. I had driven to the store with a friend, who we’ll call Scott. Scott is kind of a mentor, but mostly a good buddy. I love the guy. We’ve had many experiences over the years, and I’d say it’s a complete and true friendship—one where we both annoy each other equally but let it slide, laugh, and share things. It mostly revolves around music, so this day was no different. It should be said that I don’t know anyone on earth who has a better knowledge, feel, and understanding of the music that I love than Scott—except for me, of course.

Scott was either returning or picking something up from the repair guy at Rogue, and I had a chance to check out some of the gear. Nothing fantastic caught my eye right away. I had already dipped my toe into the world of synthesizers and music-making gear—software, hardware, who cares? I wasn’t specifically looking for anything. In general, if a thing enables me to make music in a way I can’t (I’m not a musician), I’m interested. Somehow that becomes really important to me. ADHD can be a vicious struggle with priorities and balance. At the time, I owned a Moog Minitaur and had started making my own songs. I had an idea of what the Juno-106 was, but I didn’t get it… until..

Scott got this look of joy/mischief in his eyes and said, “Come here, listen to this.” He hands me the headphones and plays a few things. It was like when you see something clearly for the first time—like a sunset at the Grand Canyon. Stunning.

I can’t remember the exact sound, but let’s pretend it was a typical Juno bass patch with its ubiquitous chorus on setting #1. Something like this. It was thick, deep, and punchy—like a synth bass should be. But the chorus added a watery texture? It was analog, no even better - digitally controlled analog - and it sounded better than any synth I’d ever heard in person. So, I bought it.

It made perfect sense because I had around $950 in my bank account at the time. It’s probably not important to the story, but these things currently go for $2,000–$3,000 due to increased popularity and scarcity. See? Just saying. I’m justifying this purchase because of shame. That’s another struggle with not having a normal brain. Frickin Shame and guilt. But seriously it’s not like I bought a Yamaha CS-80 for $88,000 while only having $89,000 in the bank. There is a great conversation to be had here about thinking impulses through and allowing oneself to have tools that inspire. The creative process is essential for life in my opinion. It provides peace and calmness. But so does security.

The synthesizer did cause some conflict with a family member, which I’m not proud of. ADHD-related behaviors sometimes do that. Again, I’m working on that. But to my selfish inner musician and child, it was well worth it. I kept it for about a year and then sold it.

So that’s the tale of my old Juno-106. I’ll save how it became known as the Kiwi-106 for another short story. I love that picture!