The End of an Era

Today my sons -- aged 6 and 10 -- listened to an album. By "album" I mean one of those 12-inch vinyl platters that goes on a phonograph and by "listen" I mean that they were in the vicinity when I blasted AC/DC's "High Voltage". After playing "It's a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock 'n' Roll)" a couple of times at unhealthy volumes, I shut off the stereo and moved the turntable to a pile of electronics destined for the recycling center.

I attended high school from 1978 to 1982. I say that because it was sometime within those years that I bought this stereo system. While I don't remember exactly when it was, I precisely remember the store. I remember the salesman taking me from system to system giving detailed descriptions of the strengths of each. In every case, I would ask a single question, "Is it loud?". That was important because of two facts: 1) I had a drumset in my bedroom; and 2) I got home from school most days a few hours before my parents or brothers arrived. With no one around to tell me to keep things down, I could play the drums as loud as I wished and I needed a stereo that I wouldn't drown out. While the salesman repeatedly reacted to my question with a pained expression, he eventually succumbed to reality and pointed to a system saying, "this one is loud."

Day after day I would turn the music up on the stereo, get behind my drumset, and imagine I was the next Neil Peart or Keith Moon (sorry, Ringo, you never made the cut). I still have most of my albums from that time, including nearly every Kiss and AC/DC album, a Scorpions album, Night Ranger, and many more.

When I went to college, the stereo system came with me. One day I returned to the dorm room to find one speaker producing nothing but a unhealthy-sounding hum. A few minutes of inquiry revealed that my roommate and a couple of his friends had decided to see how loud the stereo could go -- the result being "loud enough to blow a speaker". So, off to the stereo store I went. I told the salesman I wanted speakers that could not be blown by my amplifier. He patiently explained that you should never turn an amplifier to full volume, that it distorted the music, and so on. I, with equal patience, repeated that I needed speakers that could not be blown by my amplifier. Eventually, much like the original salesman, he pointed to a set and said, "these can't be blown by your amplifier." That's how I ended up with a set of speakers standing nearly 3 feet tall and over a foot wide that to this day produce the best-sounding rock music I've ever heard.

The stereo system eventually made it to Washington after I moved here for graduate school. But, the days of being able crank up the volume were over. I added a compact disk changer to the system and listened to albums less and less. I relied more on head phones than my beloved speakers. When we moved to our current home over 10 years ago, I set the stereo up in the living room, but never bothered connecting the turntable. The speakers, which used to be the subject of praise from visitors, increasingly drew nothing but confused looks from people wondering what they were. My wife has expressed nothing but disdain for them for several years. Moreover, with the advent of iPods and iPhones, I've had little use for the stereo system and it's almost never used.

As a result, today I finally agreed to remove the stereo in order to free up space for more practical uses. I had actually accepted that the system should be entirely thrown out. But, as I disassembled it, one of my sons pointed to the turntable and asked, "what is that?". I then realized that neither boy has ever heard a vinyl album and neither would even know what a record was. That simply could not stand. The stereo system was quickly moved to the basement and the turntable and speakers reconnected to the amplifier. The cassette deck went directly to the recycling pile with the CD changer following closely behind.

I'd like to say that the experience of turning on the stereo, putting an AC/DC album on the turntable, and turning up the volume was somehow revelational -- a moment my sons and I would never forget. But, sadly, one boy refused to even come down to to the basement (though he claims to have been dancing upstairs). The other kept calling the record a "CD". Most tragically, the turntable revealed that one of its cables had gone bad and sound was only produced to one speaker (the left). Sound would only go to the right if I pushed the turntable's "right" cable strongly to the side. It apparently has a short. I could only stand bent over the amp, pushing on the cable for so long before I was ready to face reality. It was time to recycle the turntable.

The days of analog music have ended for me. But, I'm keeping the amplifier and speakers. I can still connect my iPod to them if I wish. Moreover, maybe some day I'll buy another drumset. If so, I'll need a stereo that I can't drown out.