I've heard some of the guys John Atkinson, Wes Phillips, Art Dudley talk about a certain feeling. It's a strange kind of, mildly irrational, but altogether real, bit of sadness topped off with a touch of guilt and/or regret that sneaks up on the audio reviewer when the time comes to return a piece of gear to its manufacturer.
Many of the commuters around me have the white plastic implants shoved into their innocent ears. All sorts of sounds come slithering out as we hold onto stainless steel. The F train sings a different song.
Here, in this entry, I'm looking for a way to casually and intelligently and perhaps even humorously mention sakesoaked wood cone speakers. Because sakesoaked wood cone speakers are weird. And interesting. And funny. And that kind of weird, interesting, funny stuff needs to be pointed at and teased, wondered upon and caressed. But I will fail at being clever about it, I will throw subtlety out the window, and I will just blurt it out at the start.
Smog's A River Ain't Too Much To Love rose again and again in the earliest days of this blog. It reminded me of Nebraska and it brought me back to San Francisco, and I am a rock bottom riser and I owe it all to you.