Big Babies

A while back The Audiophile and I were enjoying a weekend trip to a heavily-populated city which, if I'm lucky, guarantees a visit to the local stereo shop. Par norm, I was wandering aimlessly about the store thinking about how high one could stack boxes of components before they would crash to the ground in a suicidal melee, when I overhead The Audiophile and the proprietor having an animated conversation.

The discussion centered around drivers and whether they could handle the load. Now, correct me if I'm wrong here, but with all the fuss about NOT TOUCHING the drivers, I'm thinking these namby pamby babies won't be able to handle ANY load because they ARE a load.

Of course, I did not shot-put my opinion into the conversation since it would have betrayed my appearance of chocolate-covered patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Instead I wandered off to one of the listening rooms to see if I could hold Tree Pose until the conversation ended.

In the end, my yoga practice was cut short because The Audiophile wanted my professional opinion on the wife acceptance factor of a pair of speakers that were, in my estimation, absolutely gorgeous. I do not know if there is any fame or fortune to be made in offering my seal of approval, but I should probably have some stickers made up just in case.

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.

Strictly Business

The Audiophile has recently become distressed about one of the websites he uses to transact audio business. It seems the website mafia bosses have made some changes that have been unpopular with “the family.”

My helpful suggestion was, “Well, stop using the site.” This, however, was met with some non-verbal contortions, so I am going to assume this is not a viable option because it would endanger the well-being of our children and our imaginary horses.

From what I understand, the site bosses may have felt that the audiophiles were using clever methods of communication to weasel out of paying the usurious transaction fees. In turn, they used their bossing powers to close the loopholes and clamp down on the hand signals. 

In my opinion, instead of administering a fee on the transactions, the site bosses would be better off charging a penny per minute based on the amount of time each audiophile spends on their site. Not only would this generate a usage-based stream of honorable income, it would also provide accurate data that could, hypothetically, be used to assemble a pie chart showing exactly what percentage of the audiophile's life is being devoted to the various discussion boards.

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.

Walks Like a Woman

Once in a while, when The Audiophile is at work conducting official business, I sneak down to The Listening Room to conduct some official business of my own. I do not touch anything because I understand randomly punching at buttons can initiate a launch sequence that leads to global destruction; instead, I look at the merchandise with my eyes and not my hands.

This brings me to the new speakers. They needed to be given a name and christened as being boys or girls. At first blush, I would have said they were girls. After all, in last week's post I referred to them as being part of the harem. However, after careful meditation and thoughtful stroking of my chin, I remained confused about the precise gender of the new speakers.  

I hate to divulge the make and model of components because manufacturers might then be tempted to send expensive gear to me for my unbiased review, and I'm not sure I can carve out the time for that. So let’s just say the biological name of these speakers rhymes with Lola, as in L.O.L.A. Lola. Lo lo lo lo Lola. And from what I’ve heard, they may walk like a woman, but they definitely talk like a man.

All I know is The Audiophile is one of the world’s most passionate guys, and I think he has fallen for the Lolas. Hopefully he also likes Ray Davies because I’ve taken to singing an improvised version of his song regularly. Very regularly.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

The Honeymoon

It happened again. The Audiophile left on one of his covert business trips and returned home with a new pair of speakers in the back of the SUV.

Being nearly as sharp as most tacks in the tool shed, I was not surprised by the arrival of the new speakers because the half-naked skeletons and the body scanners that had formerly occupied the role of mewing melodious music into air had been gone for several hours – maybe even several days – leaving the remaining collection of rectangular components lonely, voiceless, and on the verge of clinical depression.

According to custom, I helped The Audiophile unshackle the crates from the vehicle, responded accordingly to his outstanding navigational commands, and earned an A+ for maneuvering my end of the bargain down the stairs like a man. Even though I am not a man.

The icing on the stereophonic cake came about two hours after The Audiophile had introduced his new brides into the harem and taken them for a leisurely stroll. He beckoned me to The Listening Boudoir and imparted the following verdict: They. Sound. Great.

Now begins my sporting desire to do everything subliminally possible to nurture the afterglow of his purchase. My personal goal in this independent competition is to stretch the ownership of this particular pair of great-sounding speakers to, oh, let's say the 4th of July for the fun of it.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Configure This

I know I am belly-flopping into sacred territory with this post, yet I feel I must. After all, honesty is the best policy if you are not married, never intend to be, or simply enjoy the act of throwing caution to the wind.

The Audiophile came home from work a while back with a big grin on his face. Many things went through my mind regarding the impetus for the readily apparent joy joy joy joy down in his heart, but it wasn't until he said, "I've got an idea for a new configuration," that I was brought into the inner sanctum of his effervescence.

Super, I thought, hopefully this will not require more than one or two post-configuration trips to the chiropractor because that guy is the only one who will be profiting from this endeavor if history repeats itself. Sure, I knew when I married The Audiophile that his hobby, I mean passion, would come with some risk, but I didn't know it was one of the excluded activities on a life insurance policy along with skydiving, non-commercial aviation, and acts of war.

Fortunately, the new configuration did not deliver the five moves of doom, and The Audiophile rearranged whatever it was that needed rearranging without insulting his spinal column. Additionally, the act of pushing and shoving helped him to determine the real issue at hand was not related to the configuration at all but rather his need for a new amplifier and a different pair of speakers.

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.

Boxing Day

There is a holiday coming up on the 26th of December in which some people in some countries graciously present service workers, like the kindly delivery truck driver, with a gift for their death-defying service. I think this is a spectacular idea given the conditions these fine folks work under when tasked with carting unwieldy speaker crates and surly subwoofers around the globe and back again.

The Audiophile, however, observes Boxing Day a little differently. Sometime after Christmas, when he thinks I'll be looking to pole vault the tree back into the storage room, he will retreat to said room to privately celebrate his collection of original boxes. These boxes "which MAY be needed to ship a component and are NOT to be used by other members of the household" will be rearranged and organized like a nested community of belligerent Russian dolls.

When he is finished I will hear a muffled, sweaty shout from the basement beckoning me to come from afar and admire the man skills that were required to slay the corrugated dragon. Although it will be difficult to contain my excitement, I will calmly approach the victory ring while rehearsing my carefully crafted response which is always, "Wow, honey, that is incredible." This, according Dan Webster himself, is the precise word to use in a situation which is so extraordinary it seems impossible. Roger that, Mr. Webster, Roger that.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.