Totem's Vince Bruzzese was happy to tell me about the Wind Design, an enhanced version of the company's flagship floorstander. It uses a "skid plate" decoupling system with a front "claw" which is user-adjustable to complement the phase interactions between the speaker and various associated electronics. Totem strives to create loudspeakers that will mate happily with all sorts of associated equipment, and today they were making music with an Arcam FMJ disc player and Bryston amplification.
Totem was showing their special anniversary model, The One ($3595). Along with Naim electronics, the sound created was powerful, fast, and fun. We listened to "How I Love That Woman," a soaring instrumental by Bob Brozeman.
As usual, Totem did a wonderful job of transforming their booth to provide a fun and distinct listening environment. The company was also playing their Tribe wall-mount, which provided a surprisingly robust sound.
Totem was showing their new Element Series of loudspeakers. Both the stand-mounted Fire ($6000/pair) and floorstanding Earth ($9000/pair) use Totem’s 7-inch Torrent hand-assembled driver and employ no crossover parts in the woofer section.
Michael Lavorgna reports on Philip Jeck and Ted Riederer’s performance, last night, at Our Lady of Lebanon Cathedral, in Brooklyn. Jeck sat at a table, with access to a small keyboard and a few simple turntables. Meanwhile, Riederer played guitar and sang, sending his signals through various effects pedals, looping them and transferring them directly to lathe-cut vinyl. Upon the completion of a side, Riederer would hand the newly created record to an unsuspecting Jeck. In turn, Jeck, with a smile, would place the record upon a turntable and play along. It continued like that for some time.
Like ML, I was captivated by the total experience: the dim lighting, the attentive crowd, the lulling sounds, the rich scents, the soft feel of old floorboards and torn carpetingit all worked to transfix and transport.
Sorry about that. Kelli and I flew off to Maine. We spent most of our time on Mt. Desert Island. "Desert," in this case, is pronounced "dessert" (with a French accent, if you like). It was good and quiet. We drove along the coast in our pathetic PT Cruiser (Touring Edition), from Portland to Bar Harbor, listening to the new TV on the Radio. It starts off like a Sonic Youth song, but the drums change it all. And then the vocals change it more. Of the words I could make out: Hey hey, my baby / Won't you lay your hands on me / Mirror my malady / Transfer my tragedy. We decided that he really does sound like Peter Gabriel.
Ariel's two new favorite toysone found in the garbage, and one bought with his hard-earned cash: The Sony CFM-10 Radio Cassette-Corder and the Bellari VP129, one-tube wonder.
Madison Avenue is normally a nearly impenetrable fortress of buses. Crossing it is a choking, weaving, stuttering adventure; a New York City version of Chutes and Ladders.
"Do you want a ride to work?"
"What?"
"Are you going to Manhattan?"
"Yeah."
"Do you want a ride to work?"
"What do you mean?"
"I've got my car over there. I'm going to 58th Street, but you need four people in a car to be allowed to drive into the City. You wanna ride?"
"Nah, man. You're a stranger. Good luck with that, though."