The Man

The Audiophile has a thing for Van Morrison, and it is not a small thing. In fact, if Amazon.com peddled Van Morrison bed sheets and footie pajamas, they would be in our possession, and I would be asked to wear the footie pajamas even in the summer when footie pajamas are generally retired to the back of the closet with the penguins and snow mobiles.

Recently, The Audiophile went on a binge and read all the unauthorized biographies on Van. Then he listened to all of his CDs. Well, not all of his CDs, because although he owns all of Van’s CDs, it would take a short sabbatical and possible hip replacement to actually listen to them all.

To add a visual element to the marathon, The Audiophile queued up a concert video from the 1980s. In this video Van was wearing a mustard-colored shirt and pants that were so tight the audience was provided with sufficient anatomical information to enjoy both Van and his condiments.

On the final day of the binge, I took a light lunch to The Listening Room to keep The Audiophile alive, and he said, “Listen, listen, listen. Can you hear it? Can you hear the momentum of the music?”  Um, I don’t know if I "heard the momentum" or not, but I can definitely add that to the collection of recommended phrases for audio wives to use in securing audio favor with their audio husbands.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

I Got You Babe

Last Saturday I was blessed with another field trip to an audio store.  This particular store dealt exclusively with a line of speakers that comes with a unique feature.

I am embarrassed to admit this, but at first I thought the unique feature was a high-tech maraca – which is a very cool idea if you ask me. However, upon closer inspection I determined the maracas were, in fact, attached to the speakers and not maracas at all but rather microphones.

Karaoke has never appealed to me as a means of entertainment because of the Las Vegas odds of it being a positive experience, but I was thinking if audiophiles wanted to indulge themselves in a little Sonny and Cher action in the privacy of their homes, then who am I to judge.

That being said, I was squinting at the microphones wondering exactly how they slid out from the top of the speaker when I was interrupted by The Audiophile who shattered my little dream with, "Those are the tweeters."

Oh. Tweeters. Of course. I didn't tell him this at the time, but The Audiophile saved me from performing a classic "testing... one... two... three..." sound check that would have been difficult to gracefully recover from without deploying an "I'm just kidding" lie or going all the way with my half of a karaoke duet. 

 And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Pete and Repeat

Sometimes when The Audiophile is testing something, like my capacity for patient understanding, he will play the same song over and over, and then over and over and over. This always makes me think about Jack Nicholson in The Shining when his wide-eyed wife discovers he has used an entire ream of paper to repeatedly type, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

Stephen King, from my minimal understanding of his work, is a master at taking something seemingly innocuous and turning it into a terrifying best seller. I'm thinking about feeding him some material to see if he might like to capitalize on the nocturnal habits of The Audiophile all bleary-eyed and delirious over the psychotic quest to eliminate sibilance from the who-knows-what.

I can't help but wonder if I'll go to The Listening Room someday and find The Audiophile loonier than a tune over the sheer repetition of Holly Cole eloquently singing "Everyday Will Be Like a Holiday." The thought of it might tempt some audio wives into carrying a baseball bat as a precautionary measure, but I take comfort in falsely believing I could navigate my carcass up the stairs just a little faster than The Audiophile if it came down to the survival of the fittest.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

The Art of Listening

Part of my goal in writing this blog is to pass along helpful information to other audio wives even if my expertise is nonexistent and controversial. As discussed previously, being invited to The Listening Room for a round of "How Does It Sound" can be intimidating. Here is a list of etiquette tips I've gathered from questions submitted by fictional readers, like you, to help navigate the experience with eloquence and grace:

• Can I lie down on The Listening Sofa?  No.
• Can I select the music?  Not if you're me.
• Can I text a friend?  No.
• Can I sing along?  Only if you are naked or Diana Krall.
• Can I clap between songs?  You're kidding, right?
• Can I ask non-audio questions? No.
• Can I bring a beverage?  Only if it is a quiet beverage.
• Can I bring a salty-crunchy snack?  Good golly, no.

To ensure the listening experience is successful, ask the following question when the audiophile has paused the music and appears relaxed and comfortable:  How would you describe the sound stage today, dear? 

You do not have to understand the response, but it is advisable to thoughtfully nod your head as if you do. Additionally, this is an appropriate time to take a few sips of your quiet beverage without blurring the detail of the music or causing an apocalyptic event.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

In Love

Here’s the problem. The Audiophile has been doing more selling than buying lately, and he’s got himself into a pickle whereby he can’t perform his audiophile duties in The Listening Room because there are too many missing components. Consequently, he has taken to using my system for his listening pleasure.

This is fine, and I mean fine in the lowercase sense of the word as opposed to FINE which has a completely different meaning, but it does present some challenges. Take Tuesday evening, for example.

The Audiophile is aware that his taste in music and mine do not always align, primarily because I have no taste in music. For this reason, I concede the selections to him with a few clearly communicated exceptions. I hesitate to malign specific artists, but let’s just say I did not care about Chuck E being in love in 1979, and I still do not care about Chuck E being in love in 2012.

Since The Audiophile decided, out of ten hundred billion choices, to queue up Chuck E’s bride and to set the volume at a level that would ensure I would flee the scene of the crime; I opted to seclude myself in my office. The beautiful thing about this period of solitary confinement was it provided me with an opportunity to passively and aggressively re-clarify IN WRITING my feelings about certain songs.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

The Big Oh

The Audiophile celebrated what is commonly called a "significant birthday" this past week. In keeping with custom, I sang him the birthday song Marilyn Monroe style. That is if Marilyn were a little off-key, a little less provocative, and among the living. I like to think this ritual of mine keeps the bar low for Alison Krauss to consistently sound better in an A/B comparison with myself.

Since significant birthdays are made slightly more palatable with significant gifts, I was going to take The Audiophile on a trip to the upcoming Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas. However, it seems the show is not open to the general grazing public, probably because of our tendency to be more interested in cud chewing than purchasing in bulk.

Instead, I went to the mall to browse the brightly lit exhibits on display at the Steve Jobs Memorial Hall of Fame. It was a confusing and intimidating experience, and although there was not a single black turtleneck sweater available for purchase, there were plenty of outlandishly-priced alternatives that fought for my attention.

Now The Audiophile can blow out virtual birthday candles and read "The Sound Pile" digitally - that is once I'm finished cataloging my recipes and updating my social network status. At first blush, this gift may ring of selfish motivation, yet, if you will recall, my most recent gift from him was a sound system.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Hello Dolly

Once upon a time there were a pair of beautiful speakers in The Listening Room. Saying I loved them would probably make The Audiophile feel bad for having cold-heartedly boxed them up and sold them to some incredibly lucky human being in a far-away land. Instead I'll just say I thought very highly of these beautiful speakers. And I miss them. And I think they miss me.

It doesn't seem prudent to mention brand names so let's just say they were probably made in Denmark where fastidious Denmarkian elves rubbed their cabinets by hand until the cherrywood itself sang just as eloquently as Carol Channing or Babs Streisand. I don't know why The Audiophile decided to get rid of these beauties, but that is not my business. My business is to nod in agreement as things move in and move out of The Listening Room in order to maintain my status as The Perfect Wife, I mean, The Audiophile's Wife.

Sadly, the speakers that currently live in The Listening Room have been called "body scanners" by an astute visitor who could not help but notice their unaesthetic qualities. Maybe, to be fair, they are simply more akin to modern art than, say, impressionism.

According to The Audiophile these body scanners produce fantastic sound. He says they are more transparent with a sound stage that... that... that... I don't know what he said after this because I drifted off a little during the explanation. Anyway, sometimes if I close my eyes and remain awake while listening to the body scanners, I can almost imagine they have the impressionistic beauty of the speakers of yesteryear.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

The Other Woman

Last Friday was big - huge even. The Audiophile and I were face-to-face with The Other Woman. I have to admit, she's everything a guy could hope for: beautiful, talented, confident, demure. "Voice of an angel" the Audiophile and his audiophile friends like to say with nods of solemn affirmation.

If you are the wife of an audiophile, you are already saying to yourself, "Ah, yes, I know to whom she refers. The one. The only. Alison Krauss."

Our seats were near the front of the Meadowbrook Pavilion in Gilford, New Hampshire. They were close enough for me to confirm her perfection. She does not have a single unwanted hair growing from her chin nor does she have a faint scar in the middle of her forehead from scratching at a chickenpox when she was in kindergarten.

The Audiophile salivated more than usual. Heck, I salivated more than usual myself. We probably should have worn lobster bibs as a precautionary measure.

Prior to the show I telepathically willed her (and Union Station, of course) to do "Ghost In This House" and "When You Say Nothing At All." To my delight, Alison was tuned in to my telepathic channel.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.