Thanks to al who've helped me celebrate this little milestone. All of you have enriched my life in some way. We share life and death, love and loss, joys and sorrows, and the elusive goal of recreating an acoustical event in time-space. "Audiophile" is an understatement for that goal. We are alchemists, turning abandoned bedrooms into cathedrals, then deftly into a caberet with a wave of the hand.
Pretty good trick, if you ask me.
I've searched back to my first few tentative posts and recall the worries over how I was precieved and the since of voices from the blackness. After 7 years and 5k posts, many of those voices have faces attached and almost all have personalities, familes, jobs, aspirations, frustrations, and all that makes up life. I know the sounds of systems I've never heard or seen.
It's good. I think I'll stay awhile if you guys don't mind.
I am reprinting a piece I posted after a hiatus from the forum a couple of years ago. I think the sentiments still hold true:
It was good to be home.
I’d been away for far too long and the vicissitudes of travel through the outer world had taken their toll. Whether the barbarians of the hinterlands or the shallow dilatants of the cities, I yearned for the comradeship and security of my own kind. The
landing at Klipsch International was a bit bumpy as some sort of
digitalist terrorist threat to unleash a virus had raised security
levels and the portals were seriously clogged. The
customs official gave me a quick onceover, but his obviously practiced
eye immediately determined that I was unlikely to be carrying illegal
bose or anything else in suspension. Finally, I was through the portal and standing on the street. I
needed none of the gewgaws and gadgets in the commercial sector, so I
jumped into my Explorer and headed straight for the Forum.
I’d been away so long that I took the long road home through the Theatre District. Nothing much had changed there. Sheriff Unger’s car passed with lights a blazing, undoubtedly en route to separate some vicious attack by partisans of one philosophy or the other. It was raucous, incredibly loud and the senses were constantly assaulted from all directions. Brilliant lights flashed with images of all description, including some of questionable taste…Yikes! Everywhere touts tried to drown each other out with the virtues of the experience they offered. “More channels than ever before! Well, I yet to evolve past two ears, thank God, so I moved on. I vowed not to return unless there was something good playing at Eqshadimars, the only really respectable place in town.
Tech
Town was buzzing with the recent discovery of a vast trove of NOS
cold-war era tubes and the effect it would have on the market. The
sages were on their soapboxes as always, and the advice they freely
handed out to anyone who would listen was the same, as always.
The most devoted of the auld school denizens where gathered at the Pilgrimage. Before
the great shrine they hawked and traded their precious wears,
occasionally entering the shrine to offer thanks the Legend for the
gifts He provided them. From experience, I knew
that a few of them secretly doubted the Legend’s admonishment that Cord
of Zip was sufficient pathway to all things good and beautiful, and
that the Triune way produced a superior image of truth to that of the
Duality, but most kept these heresies to themselves, at least in while
in the Virtual Presence. Though few in number, I
had enormous respect for these faithful and had often felt the desire
to make the Pilgrimage myself as penance for my frequent lapses into
the surround heresy with its stench of digital supremacist dogma and
frequent threats of format cleansing. Enough, already. I pointed my trusty, but often balky, Explorer towards the suburbs near the river. Traditional, convivial, and cordial homes in an established neighborhood of oh, so responsible neighbors. Heresy is rather rare here, as most have long since embraced the great heritage passed down by their fathers, pure and intact.
I settled into my old spot and breathed in the clean air of the languid stream. I could hear the sound of Delta blues emanating from Marty's. There was also a muffled, somewhat panicky, sound of a pleading voice. Could
the Twins be back and up to their old tricks? Occasional sounds of
hammer against metal suggested that Craig was banging the dents out of
yet another tired old chassis. Overhead, a parrot circled, waiting to dive upon some pest with the bad judgment to enter our refuge. Yep’em, home again. I flipped the switch and the warm glow of tubes radiated their timeless pure light. I was soon lost in the rapturous arms of Bach’s Cantata 121 as the Sunday afternoon drifted along with pretensions of eternity.
Yes, it’s GOOD to be home…
Dave
David A. Mallette
"If it sounds good, it IS good!" - Duke Ellington
www.mbsdar.com - Links to free audiophile-quality music downloads, including hi-res digital