The Girl In The Other Room

The Audiophile celebrates his birthday this weekend, and that means a gift is in order even though he says he wants for nothing. Since I have no business buying him anything for The Listening Room, I ordered him a pair of concert tickets to see one of his girlfriends.

At this point, the savviest among you have realized I have publicly announced his gift ahead of time making this yet another test to see if The Audiophile is still reading my blog. Not that he has to read my blog, because I would never use that as a means of measuring his love and admiration of my typing skills.

These concert tickets, by the way, are good but not so good that Ms. Krall will see him slack-jawed and drooling from her piano bench. Which will assuredly be the case if she is wearing the same outfit that she's sporting on the cover of her most recent release.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Winter Wonderland

It's that time of the year when The Audiophile enjoys extended periods of time in The Listening Room. Listening, as you know, is an art form that requires special powers of concentration and immobility. Here is a helpful Q&A to assist audio wives in navigating the holiday season:

Should an audiophile frost cookies while listening to a system?  No.
Should he wrap packages?  Definitely not.
Clean toilets?  Bad acoustics, no.
Prepare a lasagna?  No.
What should an audiophile do while listening to a system?  Nothing. 

The more important question is, "What should an audiophile's wife do while an audiophile is listening to a system?" In my personal experience, she should cheerfully frost the cookies, wrap the packages, clean the toilets, and make the lasagna. And then, in order to remain cheerful and altogether fabulous under circumstances such as these, she should blog about her heroism.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Electric Avenue

The Audiophile, as you know, has been building his own amp with his bare hands. In anticipation of turning on the amp for the first time, he took a long-handled wooden spoon from the kitchen. He told me he was going to use it as a way to distance himself from the unit and thereby reduce the chances of killing himself when he flipped the switch.

Now, because we are practicing to be old and feeble, we typically go to bed sometime between 8:00 and 9:00, even on the weekends. This allows us to watch some news about the economic end times before we call it a day. So you can imagine my concern when I awoke at 2:00 in the morning, realized I had dozed off, and further realized The Audiophile had never come to bed. Naturally I assumed he was dead.

I padded down the stairs very quietly, sniffing the air for evidence of his demise. I slowly opened the workroom door, fully expecting to find his charred remains still clinging to the handle of the smoking wooden spoon. Instead, there he was, alive and well, doing what he loves while happily inhaling the recommended daily allowance of soldering fumes.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Hickory Dickory

Three things were noteworthy about the packages delivered for The Audiophile this week. First, there was only one package delivered, which was concerning in itself. Second, the lone package was unusually small. Third, the package was alarmingly light weight. So light, in fact, that the only thing that could possibly have been in the very small box was a mouse, most likely a dead one.

I called The Audiophile at work to report my concern, to which he responded, "It's cable." To which I responded, "No, it's not." This, of course, led to a classic round of marital YES-it-is. NO-it's-not. YES-it-is. NO-it's-NOT, because even though we're no longer terribly delinquent, we are obviously still juvenile.

When The Audiophile came home that night and opened the dead-mouse box, I'll be darned if there wasn't cable in the coffin. Silver cable, that is, which was daintily coiled up in some tissue paper. I have no idea what silver cable must cost, but if it replaces some of the dead-snake cable currently molting in The Listening Room, then I'm on board.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Light My Fire

Recently there was a conundrum regarding The Audiophile's priorities. It seems there was a filet of salmon that needed to be grilled at 5:45 on a Tuesday, and there was a "five-minute" phone call to another audiophile that also needed to be made at 5:45 on the very same Tuesday. Usually this sort of mathematical story problem doesn't rear its ugly head in real life, but the already steaming kettle of broccoli was driving the train that day.

Now, I'm not looking for a show of hands, but I am suggesting that 99.7% of audiophile wives would know that salmon grilling should supersede audiophile phone calling when broccoli is part of the equation. Why? Because the odds of a "five-minute" audiophile-to-audiophile phone call are as statistically improbable as listening to "just one song."

Fortunately, even though I am not a man, I possessed sufficient testosterone to open the lid of the grill, place the salmon on the grill, and close the lid of the grill. The heart-healthy meal pulled into the station at precisely 6:00, which coincided perfectly with the culmination of The Audiophile's (5 x 3 = 15 minute) phone call.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Songs From The Big Chair

When The Audiophile wants me to come to The Listening Room for a demo, he plays my special song. This song is by Alison Krauss, and I call it "The Bird Song" even though I doubt that is the song's God-given title.

A couple of weeks back, I heard The Bird Song wafting upstairs, and I scampered to see what needed my immediate attention. Even with my limited abilities, I could see The Audiophile had moved The Listening Chair much closer to the harem. He gestured for me to have a seat.

After the bird had flown, I sat up as straight as possible in the man-sized chair and said, "Well, everything sounded much bigger, less restrained, and more like a live concert."

The Audiophile beamed, and he may have wet himself a little. All I know is he replied, "YES, YES, YES, that is what we call 'near-field listening,' and you have a good ear." At the time, I didn't know what to say, but in hindsight what I should have said is...

And that, my dear, is audio winning.

Money For Nothing

The Audiophile and I were in the garage recently where we conscientiously deposit our shoes before entering the house. As I removed my beloved Dansko's that were purchased in 2007, I pointed to the heel of the right shoe for him to inspect where it had given way to the underbelly. He briefly glanced at the shoe, turned to me with a baffled look, and said, "It doesn't look worn out to me."

With this statement, The Audiophile clarified his decision-making processes. If the item under consideration is an amp, pre-amp, power conditioner, pair of speakers, capacitor, cable, or any other item remotely related to any of the aforementioned items, then "wear and tear" is not used in the evaluation criteria when purchasing a new one.

To my credit I did not punch The Audiophile in the gullet or call him a nincompoop. Instead, I followed his example of conspicuous consumption and ordered myself a new pair of Dansko's in Arabesque leather. When these shoes arrive I expect they will make me taller, happier and, if I'm not mistaken, much more transparent.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Sweet Caroline

The Audiophile was in one, or maybe both, of the Carolinas last week on business. At one point he had a couple of free hours, which he conveniently put to use by visiting a fellow audiophile.

This never turns out well from my vantage point, because he tends to come home drooling and googly-eyed, and that just isn't attractive or hygienic. It seems this audio friend had engineered the walls of his listening room with some sort of noise-absorbing railway system that isolates the... yeah, I don't know what it does. What I do know is upon his return The Audiophile, when describing this masterpiece, said, "When I opened my mouth, I could perfectly hear the sound of my own saliva."

Glory, I had no idea this was desirable. However, it gives me the touchstone upon which to gauge my life experiences. Sure, being selected employee of the month was gratifying, and training up children in the way they should go is excellent and praiseworthy, but nothing compares to the magnum opus of my own saliva.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Hail to the Chief

The Audiophile and I saddled up the SUV last weekend for a trip through two Midwestern states that are primarily known for their trance-inducing stretches of the Eisenhower Interstate System. One might think there would be little chance of locating a high-fidelity stereo establishment in the middle of the Mormon trail, and yet someone, probably Mitt Romney, put one in Omaha, Nebraska.

And speaking of the upcoming U.S. election, I would like to remind the discriminating audiophile that a vote for the incumbent is a vote for the governmental redistribution of the finest audio gear in the nation in order to provide every American family with a Bose Wave radio.

On the other hand, a vote for Mr. Romney is a vote to keep your superior-sounding system that falls in the top 1% of all systems in the country and to have an economic shot at the thirty-thousand-dollar-American-dream speakers we demoed in Omaha.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

The Best I've Ever Had

Last Saturday I was lured to The Listening Room to offer my opinion on the newest amp. This particular amp was one-third the cost of the previous amp, which gave it a higher WAF before he even plugged it in.

Surprisingly, The Audiophile and I agreed that the sound was significantly better than that of its pricier predecessor.  I volleyed terms like "warm, genuine, and transparent" about as if I were an appropriately clad outside hitter for team USA. At one point, The Audiophile turned to me and declared, "This album has never sounded better."

Although I should be pleased with that statement, I know what it really means. It means he will now need to swap out all the other components along with the drywall, area rugs, and door hinges to see if he can coax even more perfection from the perfectly tuned, perfectly priced, perfectly wonderful amplifier, because "leaving well enough alone" would strip The Audiophile of his title and perhaps even his manhood.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.