I have a confession: I hate the software industry. PR flacks hyping trivial product features, CEOs bragging about private jets, pundits touting markets that grow from zero millions to zero billions in five years—the whole software scene is overblown, overdone and overwrought. Except for EDA. Although in many of my columns, I take the EDA companies to task—because that's my job as a journalist—I've discovered something uplifting about this industry segment: Where the rest of the software industry has gone over to the Dark Side of the Force, EDA remains last bastion of true software engineering.
Let me explain. I got into computers in 1977, when software programming was still in its infancy. Programmers were real engineers. Every operating system, application and tool was a challenge requiring creative problem solving. Writing an efficient program meant understanding something about hardware and even electronics. It was tough enough figuring out how to make a machine do what you wanted it to do. Nobody had the time, or the inclination, to churn out fluff and hype.
It was a very different world back then. Most nontechnical folk were afraid computers might "fold, spindle and mutilate" them. Working in high tech even held a social stigma. I knew a programmer at Xerox who used tell prospective dates that he fixed copiers. But that sort of thing was just an annoyance, because we cared more about getting the job done than bragging about what we did for a living.
Over the next 20 years, that all changed. One by one, the major challenges of computing, such as office automation, sales force automation and supply chain management, were solved. With each successive release offering diminishing returns, software marketing grew ever more florid and desperate. Here's an example of what I mean, lifted from an actual press release: "Release 6.0 doubles the level of functionality available, providing organizations of all sizes with a fast-to-deploy, highly robust, and easy-to-use solution." Drivel. Total drivel.
I thought the old days were gone for good, until ELECTRONIC BUSINESS asked me to cover the EDA space. To my surprise and delight, I found myself talking with executives who actually understand hardware and software, engineers who are prouder of their expertise than their stock portfolio and sales professionals who can write press releases that aren't peppered with dozens of meaningless buzzwords. Writing about EDA is like stepping through a time warp.
There's a reason that EDA has retained the traditional software engineering culture. Because every new semiconductor node requires new EDA tools, vendors don't have the time or energy to waste on goofball hype and meaningless marketing. They have to get real products out the door, full of brand-new technology; get their customers up and running quickly; and then gear up for the next challenge. There's no room for nonsense in that business equation.
EDA programmers, like the mainstream programmers of yore, constantly ground themselves in the unyielding reality of hardware. EDA customers have no patience for tools that don't work and software that doesn't actually reduce costs and increase yields. An EDA vendor who tried to sell vaporware—a common occurrence elsewhere in the software world—would simply be laughed out of business.
DAC is a perfect example of how EDA is different. Software industry trade shows used to be places where engineers could hobnob and hit the local bars. Today, software trade shows are for the most part bloated, Hollywood affairs, where gold Rolexes outnumber Casio computer watches a hundred to one. Some shows are so stuffed with analysts and pundits that a real engineer wouldn't be caught dead on the show floor. At DAC, though, everything is about engineering. The analysts, although not exactly banished, have to hold their own event, at a hotel, the night before the conference.
Want some proof that EDA vendors are more serious about engineering than their mainstream counterparts? Consider this: The three largest EDA vendors spend roughly twice as much of their revenue on research and development than the three largest U.S.-based independent software vendors (see the chart, "Software R&D Investment," above). And that doesn't count the money spent on acquiring smaller firms!
In fact, the EDA industry is so technology-focused that it can be a challenge to get sources to talk about business issues. Although EDA gurus can, with some arm-twisting, be convinced to talk about market share, margins and business models, one always gets the impression that they'd rather be discussing the latest and greatest tool. For me as a reporter, this means a bit more work, but for me as a former software engineer, it's as if the good old days were here again.
