Hook And Crook Studio
shop no – 18-19, basement, Bhavisya India Tower, Greater Noida West Road, near MAHAGUN MYWOODS, in front of 10th Avenue, greator, Gaur City 2, Noida, Ghaziabad, Uttar Pradesh 201009, India
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCGm6VF5lrQDdALT52Fxm6Lg?view_as=subscriber
Tucked at the end of a quiet, brick-paved lane in Port Adelaide’s emerging arts warehouse district, Hook And Crook Studio feels more like the living room of a leather-bound vinyl collection than a commercial facility. The front façade is deceptively simple: riveted iron sheeting painted a deep navy, a hand-stencilled fox-and-anchor logo barely catching the streetlight. Push through the weighted sound door and the city disappears. Inside, eighteen-foot ceilings of raw Oregon beam swallow overhead reflections, while Baltic-pine floors and Persian rugs warm everything the eye can’t quite reach. Walls soaked in muted charcoal create a neutral backdrop for the subtle rainbow of tube amp pilot lights, pedal LEDs and the soft gold glow of vintage VU meters.
Control Room A centers on a 1977 MCI JH-428 console—a 28-input, eight-bus beast rescued from an Adelaide television station and re-capped by house tech Sam “Crook” Anders. It feeds an ATC SCM25A monitor array sitting beside a pair of custom Altec 604E horns rescued from the Capri Theatre, letting artists A/B between brutal honesty and forgiving nostalgia. Outboard ranges from staple 1176s and Pultec EQP-1s3 to a rarely-seen Pye limiter that once travelled with AC/DC; two rack shelves are reserved for rotating loaners from local collectors, ensuring every session can surprise even the regulars.
The live area is one large 90-square-metre rectangle—no iso booths, but a tri-paneled gobo system on casters and a ceiling-mounted cloud that can drop for drier vocals or lift for drums. A reclaimed choir riser provides two-tier staging, encouraging horn sections to eyeball one another like 1962. Behind a black velvet curtain hides the “Cab Corral,” twenty-six guitar, bass and Leslie cabinets—labelled by voice, not brand: “Spanky,” “Bark,” “Fog,” etc. House guitars include a gold-foil Teisco that weighs less than a Telecaster neck and a patent-number ‘61 SG that smells faintly of tobacco and beer. Snare library currently sits at forty-three pieces; vintage Ludwig, Gretsch and Leedy shelves are arranged by era, not size, so drummers taste chronologies. An in-house drum tech, Mica, will swap heads and tune between takes while humming obscure Motown B-sides.
Creature comforts lean further into home than studio: a Lelit espresso machine on long-term loan from neighbours at Elementary Coffee, mismatched Grandma-couches, and a vinyl “lending library” alphabetised by mood rather than artist—dawn, chase, melt, swagger. Rates are flat by the day, not the hour; lockouts encouraged. Hook And Crook’s manifesto—hand-stamped on the back of every booking voucher—reads simply: “Make it sound alive. If the floor shakes slightly, we’re doing our job.”
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- Published: August 4, 2025
