Funny thing about carting a $1600 amplifier down these New York City streets during the evening rush: People just don't give a crap; they'll run you over. No problem. In fact, I was almost shown to that great, big listening room in the sky by an SUV (with Jersey plates, of course) just outside Herald Square. And try getting a $1600 CD player through the PATH station turnstiles; there's no special "Hi-Fi Entrance" down there. You're left to your own devices. I employed the lift and twirl method, but only after realizing that the push and shove method wasn't going to work.
Having re-read my entry concerning the Attention Screen concert, I realize that it may sound as though I didn't like the performance. This, however, is not the case. I liked it very much. I enjoyed it. I even had a good time.
And earlier in the night, I listened to an old Yazoo title: St. Louis Blues (1929-1935): The Depression, which has some amazing, moving cuts from Henry Townsend, Charley Jordan, Georgia Boyd, Peetie Wheatstraw, and Hi Henry Brown. Such pure, raw sounds are timeless, and are perhaps especially meaningful today.
Also, I made one other change when I removed the Ayre gear from my system: I switched from the Ayresupplied and spec'd Cardas cables to Furutech Evolutions. Incidentally, it was right around this same time that I read Jay Rein's essay on system synergy.
The guitarist John Fahey was born on February 28, 1939, and died just days before what would have been his 62nd birthday, on February 22, 2001. Like so many other beautiful things that continue to have enormous impact on my life, Fahey’s music was introduced to me by Michelle. The album was 1997’s City of Refuge. We were in our second year at Fairleigh Dickinson University, in the second year of our relationship. Michelle had claimed the album from our campus radio station and brought it back to our dorm room and played it for me.
I’ve been reading Matthew Crawford’s Shop Class As Soulcraft: An Inquiry Into the Value of Work, which argues that an intimacy with manual trades may revitalize a connection to the material world lost to those who spend their lives in offices or cubicles, staring at computer screens for eight to twelve hours a day, unable to quantify exactly what it is that they do. I’m digging it. It aligns, in many ways, with a philosophy John Atkinson has shared with me: Do doingfully.