By Juan C. Ayllon There really should be a 12-Step Recovery Group for audiophiles. I mean, when you think about it, so many of us are obsessive types. It’s not good enough to have a decent or very good system, but we want the best we can get and, when we get our system dialed-in, we are elated for about two weeks, and then we begin fretting about the next possible improvement. It could be as simple as a tweak, or maybe swapping out something minor like new tubes, cables, or other accessories. Or, it could be major -- a new set of speakers, a preamplifier, amp, a DAC, or turntable. The list of potential improvements goes on. If we’re really honest, for many of us, this is an addiction. Take, for instance, when I was recently contemplating upgrading my speakers. I picked the brain of an industry insider who specialized in them.
“Juan, what exactly are you looking for?”, he asked. He went on to say that my Ushers were very good for their price point and to get a significant improvement, I’d have to look at something in the $10,000 range or better. Well, that’s not going to happen, I thought; Belle would literally kill me if I seriously contemplated laying out additional cash, much less $10,000, for a new set of speakers (technically, I think that would be “figuratively kill me”, but I might be understating the dire consequences). Momentarily assuaged with my current speaker status, the question, what are you looking for?, haunted me. It occurred that maybe I was trying to scratch an itch with the wrong thing. I mean, how many times have I obsessed about buying something that would be the end-all, do all? Then, I save, save, save, and save some more. A friend of mine used to eat potatoes for months on end to save for equipment. Personally, several years ago, I created my “DAC Fund,” where I electronically deposited $50 a month from my paycheck, and I convinced my wife, stepdaughter and others to give me money, not gifts, for my birthday and Christmas. This lasted for several years and paid for the purchase of my Digital to Analog Converter (DAC), as well as several other components--until Belle put the kibosh on it, insisting I need to stop the crazy spending on audio. But, I digress! Anyways, eventually, I cobble together my money, then order and count the days until it arrives. It seems to take FOREVER… For ever and ever, forever and ever... I check the mailbox, the front stoop, our front hallway or kitchen island (just in case Belle brought it in while I was out) daily -- sometimes several times a day. I check package tracking, if that’s available, every several hours. Can’t it come any faster? And then it arrives. I am elated. I plug it in, turn it on, wait until it burns in and, as it shines, I am thrilled. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! But, as with all things, eventually the newness wears off. And then, slowly, the search for that thrill begins again. As I ponder this cycle, I am reminded of an old, familiar phrase: We become addicted to excitement. Wait! Wasn’t that one of the “Traits of an Adult Child” that I recited years ago when I attended the 12 Step Group, Adult Children of Alcoholics, back in the late 80s? Oh, my gosh, it is! Dadgumit! Guess I’m not cured. Seems to me that, as much as I enjoy this hobby, I need to take stock of what’s really going on inside, deal with it constructively, get centered, lean on my Higher Power, slow down, put more away for retirement, and learn to be content with what I have. Balance. As the apostle Paul once wrote, practice modesty in all things. A new set of speakers isn’t going to cure that itch and, certainly, Belle won’t go for it. That all sounds good. First thing next Monday, I’ll begin, but in the meanwhile… And therein lies my struggle for balance and serenity. One day at a time. And now with the Coronavirus (or COVID-19) upon us, where we’re being asked to stay home as much as possible, the struggle intensifies. Audioholics Anonymous -- that sounds catchy. Does anyone care to join me? Editor's Note: Take this for what it's worth; we all have own journey. And, please, everyone stay safe!
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Juan C. AyllonA writer, artist, educator and owner of Prairie Audio Man Cave, he lives with his wife, Isabel (AKA Belle), and their Goldendoodle, Liam, enjoys listening to high fidelity music and all things hi-fi at their home in the greater Chicagoland area.. Archives
March 2024
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