Reading Pleasure

The Audiophile subscribes to several magazines devoted to the obvious. I had never paid much attention to these periodicals because I assumed from looking at the covers that they were not written in my native tongue.

This all changed recently when I decided to thumb through an issue of what I will call "The Sound Pile." I didn't read any of the articles because that could have compromised my ignorance on this subject, but I did notice an advertisement featuring a physically enchanted woman posing with a pair of speakers.

The shocking part was she appeared to have been granted permission to actually touch the audio equipment. I looked carefully in the background of the image to see if I could make out an audiophile in the periphery shouting at her to NOT touch the drivers, whatever those are, but she seemed to have carte blanche over the photo shoot.

All in all, these magazines seem harmless enough as long as you wear a head-mounted magnifier to read the minuscule font used in the layout. Not that I'm complaining about the minuscule font because from a cost-benefit perspective we are definitely getting our money's worth out of these subscriptions with or without the speaker candy.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

His and Hers

The Audiophile doesn't always do so right away, but eventually he reads my weekly post. He astutely likes to point out where I've stated something incorrectly, which is pretty much all of the time given my proclivity for ignorance and hyperbole.

Recently he read the Hello Dolly entry in which I bemoaned the loss of my favorite speakers that departed our mud hut several years ago. THEN he used the departed as a swinging pocket watch to convince me we needed a Second System for MY living space.

As soon as I gave him my hypnotized go-ahead, he dashed to the www and began to quiz me on which speakers I wanted. I responded that I wanted them in rosewood. He peppered me with many other irrelevant questions all to which I replied, "I want them in rosewood."

A few days later some guy in Texas was packing up my rosewood furniture while his inconsolable wife was probably choking out a eulogy. I imagine her clinging to the ankles of the apologetic FedEx guy as he dragged both her and the crates down the driveway.

This post is dedicated to that wife. Dear wife, thank you for relinquishing parental rights to the twins. Rest assured they will be regularly polished with a free-range diaper, and, if necessary, I will puff myself up like a cat to protect them from the delinquent subwoofers that swagger through on occasion.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Mile High

According to my source, this is the weekend of one of the most highly anticipated audio festivals of the year. I've never been to this festival, and I truthfully don't know whether it is highly anticipated or just moderately contemplated. Either way, I suspect love is in the air for those who are making the pilgrimage.

It is a shame I will not be at this festival because I see they have generously devoted an entire page of their website to "spouse outings." Browsing the outing options allowed me to vicariously savor the thoughtful balance of activities that appeal to temporarily abandoned people of all walks.

If I were more entrepreneurial, I could have reserved an exhibitor room at the festival itself to peddle my wares. That I have no wares to peddle may have been problematic and somewhat confusing for the selection committee.

Instead, I have put "attend an audio festival" on my bucket list because it seems as if I should witness a gaggle of audiophiles in their natural habitat. Sure, I have preconceived ideas about what they look like when two or more are gathered together, but actually seeing them with the naked eye would not only be an educational opportunity for me, it would also make The Audiophile as giddy as a girl on a spouse outing.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

That One Bad Day

A few years ago, The Audiophile and I were entertaining a convivial couple with our witty banter and good looks. When that had run its course, The Audiophile segued to Plan B and ushered us to The Listening Room with a moderate amount of fanfare about our senses being on the verge of pleasures unknown.

He played a couple of songs at normal listening levels to assess whether we could handle the pent-up testosterone of the subwoofer, and then he slowly began to up the volume until he had perfectly synchronized our bobbing heads. Shortly after this, things went awry. It was the aroma that first got our attention. Something was burning, like hair or poultry feathers or forty-five dead cows.

The Audiophile threw himself at the subwoofer to presumably reestablish his position of dominance and then quickly turned his attention to one of the other rectangular things on the forbidden side of the room. After fussing with a couple of screws, he lifted the case on the innocent bystander and unleashed a belch of putrid white smoke that gave three of the four of us permission to run for our lives.

The Audiophile courageously stayed behind to assess the damage and whimper a little, but eventually he joined us outside where God was faithfully making new air. He solemnly reported that the sub had bucked loose from one of its connectors causing a short that had fried the more emotionally vulnerable component.

In the end, the victim of the audio fisticuff was repaired for less than the cost of an alpaca. But more importantly, we all learned a valuable lesson: subwoofers are bullies.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Cable Guy

One of the most difficult situations to navigate as The Audiophile's Wife is what I call the one-two audio punch. It is where the "How does it sound?" is directed at a new set of cables. It is hard enough to hear the difference in new speakers, or amps, or pre-pre-pre-amps, but cables? Dude, I may look a little canine first thing in the morning, but the similarities stop there.

So, here's what I'm going to do some time when I have nothing better going on, like tomorrow or any of the days after tomorrow. I am going to take six spools of thread from my sewing basket and three pointy paper cups, which I intend to heist from the dispenser at the YMCA. I will smuggle these accessories into the master bathroom. Stay with me here, this is an all-ages show.

The plan is to strategically place the spools to support the cord of my curling iron so the cord never ever touches the countertop. After I successfully do that, I'm going to balance the curling iron itself on the paper cups (pointy end down). As you might imagine, this will require patient endurance and may cause a house fire, but that's why we have replacement-value life insurance. Then I'm going to call for The Audiophile, and when he arrives, I'm going to say, "Well, Mr. A/B, do I look prettier?"

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Big Boys

The Audiophile was out of town on business again this week. Or should I say "business." Call me old fashioned, but I like to make sure he has what he needs before leaving on these trips. You know, clean socks, hardtack, and a pile of American currency which leads me to why this was a parenthetical business trip.

There will be, and I quote, "A stop on the way home to pick up a pair of speakers." Now, understand, I don't care about the stop or the speakers or the departure of the currency, but I am concerned about the "on the way home" part of that statement because Kansas was definitely not on the way home, Toto.

When he pulled in the garage he was very excited to see me. And by "me" I mean me on the receiving end of the 100-pound twins that needed to be birthed from the back of the SUV.

After some fretting over cables and compatibility, his new-used speakers were up and running or at least slow jogging in their place of submission behind the body scanners. In my opinion, the new additions to the family look normal enough from the front, but when you glance at their backsides it is like seeing a pair of half-naked skeletons. Not that skeletons regularly wear clothes, but they should.

All I know for sure is the arrival of new gear is like a holiday because it turns The Audiophile into a kid on Christmas morning who has come downstairs in his footie pajamas to find a poopless pony tethered to the tree.

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 Listening Sofa

Furniture, in my experience, has rarely held a designated purpose. As discussed previously, rooms have designated purposes, but furniture? Not so much. Which is how we come to the exceptions to this rule: the piano bench, the sewing chair, and The Listening Sofa. As revealed by the title of this episode, today's focus will be on the latter of these three oddities.

Be not confused, the sofa itself is not listening or if it is, it is not telling. The Listening Sofa is generally found in the hinterland of The Listening Room, but it is not haphazardly placed as if The Cat in the Hat were in charge of the affair. Oh no, it is positioned a specific number of inches from The System into a magical zone which is purported to be the epicenter of The Listening Experience.

Is there anything to know about sitting on the sofa you may ask? Good golly, yes. Apparently if you are slightly off center, the chances of achieving total audio consciousness evaporate like spit on a griddle, so here is an important tip:

If you are ever invited to sit on a Listening Sofa, wait for your host to sit down first. If The Audiophile sits toward one end of the sofa, position yourself in exactly the same place on the other end for optimal aerodynamic balance. Use a ruler or a foot-long submarine sandwich as a measuring device if necessary. If, however, The Audiophile sits precisely in the middle of the sofa, assume you are supposed to sit on his lap. This will not improve The Audiophile's listening experience, but it will measure his sense of humor and/or his capacity for profanity.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

How does it sound?

Accepting an invitation to join The Audiophile in The Listening Room is mildly intimidating. I know at some point, The Audiophile will turn to me and ask, "How does it sound?" And no matter how many adjectives I have at my disposal, I simply do not have the expertise to apply any of them to this question without sounding like a dope.

That being said, I accepted such an invitation a few nights ago to listen to "an album" which was really "a compact disc." As usual there was some fuss about how I was sitting on The Listening Sofa and whether I was positioned to maximize the experience, but eventually we settled in so I could commence the listening process. Interestingly, after a very short time, I was convinced The System sounded like - pardon my use of a pedestrian adjective - crap.

After a few songs, The Audiophile turned to me and said, "How does it sound?" I squirmed uncomfortably and grimaced a little to hopefully soften the blow before I replied, "Well, I hate to say this, but I think it sounds like crap." Then I waited.

The Audiophile threw his hands into the air and responded with, "I KNOW, IT SOUNDS TERRIBLE. I put these new blah har whos, in the quirp da flanger, and it killed the bass."

Bass. I know that word, and he was right, the bass had gone hasta la bye bye and the sound was not good, but we had turned a corner. Although I had no idea what he was talking about as it related to the unfortunate circumstances of The System, I had, for the first time, recognized bad sound.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

The Listening Room

A long time ago God created Adam because He needed someone to handle the arduous task of naming everything on earth. Adam named all the animals and plants and then he named the various rooms in the garden. I'm not quoting scripture here, but I think he probably named the bathroom, the bedroom, and the living room before Eve interrupted him in the food room and challenged him to use a little creativity.

We can assume Adam eventually found a room in the garden for which Eve had no immediate plans, and he marked off this territory with police tape and named it The Listening Room. Undoubtedly Eve was confused by this room when she realized that Adam had no capacity to hear a word she said when she tried to visit with him while he was in the room "listening." Nevertheless, being the loving and supportive wife that she was, Eve gladly obliged Adam in his quest to create his own private Idaho within the Garden of Eden.

The Listening Room that occupies our personal residence does not likely resemble Adam's original room at all. The ficus trees are fake and probably emit toxic potpourri into the environment, and there is a lot of stuff that requires electricity which Adam did not have until he met and named Thomas Edison.

In my opinion our listening room serves its purpose very well. It provides a place to tenderly unpack all the audio-related boxes that are delivered to our home. It creates a gallery for us to display our vast collection of acoustic panels. And, most importantly, it allows The Audiophile to experience heaven on earth.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.