Once upon a time last week, The Audiophile went away for a few hours. In his absence, I was granted legal permission to listen to music all by myself. As soon as I heard the garage door close with a nice bassy thunk, I queued up one of my favorite artists. She has been described as a living legend and is backed by twin brothers who regularly dress alike because it’s still mighty mighty cute.
This was my first solo date with the Fyne Young Cannibals, and I didn’t want to come across as overeager. Thankfully, the remote control broke the ice with a wink and a nod in my direction. I casually walked over like it was no big thing, and timidly tapped the up arrow on the volume one time. The FYCs responded with courteous applause, so I clicked the up arrow a few more times—okay, quite a few more times—and… they… sounded… AWESOME.
Fear not, I kept an eye out for smoke because I have been pedantically informed that “burning in new gear” has nothing to do with starting stuff on fire. And I kept a partial ear tuned to the frequency of the garage door so I could dial things down before The Audiophile walked in and found his system encouraging me, nay, daring me to shred my acoustic air guitar and sing, that’s right, SING along with the music.
TAW
P.S. You are awesome; I am awesome. Click here to join me in drinking decent wine. (You and I will both enjoy $50 off.)
