Hi! Let's hug.
Where are my LPs? I need a hug.
—George Reisch, Stereophile, September 1997
—George Reisch, Stereophile, September 1997
Stephen Mejias
The Dispensable Criteria
My copy of Peter, Paul, & Mary's Album 1700, which I had bought many years ago for its Bonnie and Clyde album art, wasn't nearly as dusty as Santana. When I inspected it beneath a lamp, however, I noticed that it was covered by a sort of dull, gray film. The vinyl wasn't black. It was sickly. Indeed, this was one of my many albums that had suffered through the dark, dirty waters of a basement flood. Maybe two or three floods. Maybe four.
A Dirty, Dispensable Record
I never cared much for Santana. (The band, not Johan. Johan, I love.) You know, there was always "Evil Ways" and "Oye Como Va"—fine songs for a stretch of highway when there's nothing else on the radio, but, eh: So what? I shrug my shoulders.
Cleaning Your Records in Ten (or so) Easy Steps
I knew that the VPI 16.5 measured around 15" x 9" x 14" and weighed something close to 30 lbs, but it still struck me as large and heavy. I sliced through the packing tape to find that the machine was carefully and securely set within its carton, held in place by heavy wedges of foam. Once unpacked, it was clear that the VPI was all business and built to last, as though it could withstand great amounts of strenuous work over much time and from place to place. It's a product made to satisfy its owner. With solid, black side panels and an acrylic top, it may be nothing much to look at, but it's surprisingly attractive in its quiet, utilitarian way. Again, the VPI doesn't mess around. No frills, nothing but what is absolutely necessary. I am tempted to customize my VPI, decorate it with punk rock stickers or a pin-up girl or a name tag or something.
Collecting My Mail
The cute bartender and her unimpressive boyfriend opened Abbey's Pub at just after 1PM on Saturday afternoon. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a small black top. Who cares what he was wearing? I noticed them from where I stood, at my living room. Not that I was eager for them to open the bar or anything. It was just that my VPI 16.5 record-cleaning machine was waiting for me in there.
It's a Vinyl World After All
This isn't "perfect sound," it's perfect life.
—George Reisch, Stereophile, Vol.20 No.9
—George Reisch, Stereophile, Vol.20 No.9
Our Endless Numbered Ping-pong Match, Or: Music for Frustrated Lovers, Or: The Subliminal Baton
Part of the problem is that I'm almost always thinking about what I should, or could, be writing here on the blog. I'll be in the shower, thinking: "Man, I haven't written anything good lately. Haven't written anything that's inspired discussion. Maybe, today, I'll write about my father and how his alcoholism relates to speaker cables…."
The Long Holiday Weekend
Dear Stephen,
You probably will be cleaning records over the long holiday weekend, as your cleaning machine was shipped today.
You probably will be cleaning records over the long holiday weekend, as your cleaning machine was shipped today.
Across Time and Space to You
Her name was E. and the gentle quaver in her soft voice gave me the impression that she was nervous, anxious, young. Something about it seemed sweet, seemed sincere. Which made me want to help her more. She was calling from England, and the connection was crystal clear. I could hear her perfectly, though she was so far away. She was doing research on the high end hi-fi industry.
Something Worth Dreaming Of
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