By Juan C. Ayllon Like many Baby Boomers, I enjoyed the TV sitcom, Seinfeld, as well as one of its offbeat characters, the “Soup Nazi”, a gifted, but volatile restauranteur renowned for dismissing clients who violated his strict soupline rules with the quip, “No soup for you!” Brilliant in his niche, his lack of people skills came to mind yesterday on several levels. Vinyl Rejuvenation The day started off gloriously; parting the basement curtains, I power up the Pass Labs XP-12 preamplifier, XP-17 phonostage, and X150.8 amplifier, then set the volume level at 55 (a safe setting now that Belle is showering upstairs). Extracting LP One of the five LP Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band Live/1975-85 box set from its sleeve, I platter it on my VPI Prime Scout, tighten the Delrin clamp, toggle on its motor, brush the record, dab the stylus with Belle's repurposed old makeup brush, and lower the needle. The scant sound of a phono cartridge gliding through pristine vinyl grooves gives way to a stunning transparent analog presentation of The Boss and his band at their best. “Wow,” I say, stunned at the startling clarity of the performance channeled through my Usher Audio towers. I forgot how marvelous a well kept vinyl disc can sound on my system. There’s no digital artifice, just pure, unadulterated music played by uber talented human beings at a live venue. No wonder digital audio guru Mike Moffat loves vinyl playback so much! Turning up the volume, it feels as if I’m transported back to the 70s. Now and again, I hear a tiny pop reminding me that this is vinyl and not resplendent reel to reel. Suddenly, I feel like a teenager again enjoying rock on my dad’s Garrard turntable while he’s in South America on a business trip (but this sounds way better). Sitting down, I thumb through the crisp pages of the glossy box set booklet. Outstanding! The spell breaks as I’m reminded that I have errands to run, so putting away my toys, I run upstairs and gush about how amazing this vinyl record sounds on my system. Brushing her hair, Belle asks, “Yeah, what was that?” She’s being sarcastic. Clearly, she’s not impressed, but that’s not for lack of realism, but partly because of it; Belle is not a fan of loud, boisterous rock, hence the charm of Springsteen’s gritty vocals conveyed with holographic transparency is utterly lost on her. Kissing her goodbye, I duck out the door and head off to Walgreens Drug Store for a few items and documentation of the Pfizer Booster vaccine that I need for work. About an hour later, our friend and carpenter, Tim, arrives to install backsplash tiles in our kitchen. The topic of Springsteen playing on vinyl comes up and Belle and I share our disparate takes on the performance. A longtime drummer who, like me, listened to Kansas, Led Zeppelin and Styx as a youngster, he chuckles as Belle explains that, growing up, her rebellious teenage music was Cliff Richard and Olivia Newton John. “Who’s Cliff Richard?” he asks. Soup Nazi in Lake County
Belle is struggling with a virus she caught from me, so our evening plans are to stay in and watch a movie. And that night as I’m driving to pick up Chinese takeout from our favorite purveyor, I take a call from an audio friend who’s big into vinyl. It turns out he had a very expensive day. He had a turntable specialist of some renown over earlier to tune up his decks, but what was supposed to be a couple hundred dollars ended up costing him nearly three times as much! Apparently, once he got going, he really went whole hog and, hours later, the technician insisted on the premium price tag. It’s all worth it, my friend insisted. “The turntables sound phenomenal,” he gushed. However, he was stunned at how much more he ended up paying above the agreed upon price. Belle would never tolerate that (nor would I), I thought, but distracting him, I chatted up the cuisine served up at this Chinese takeout establishment. “It’s very good,” I said, “but they’re kind of like the Soup Nazis of Lake County.” I recalled how blunt and impatient the order taker was at the window on several occasions, however, the quality of food is extraordinary and, like the soup merchant on Seinfeld, has people lining up. (Actually, the order taker was friendlier this evening, saying, “thank you” like he meant it after I paid him, making me wonder if someone had complained about their customer service). But as I drove home, I couldn’t help but think of the similarities between the Soup Nazi, the Chinese takeout store, and the turntable specialist. They were all extraordinary in their niches, but their people skills bordered on the insufferable. I recalled once some years ago, after arriving on schedule to the tech’s house, having to wait in my car for half an hour while he took a bath. When he was finished, he actually answered the door in his robe with wet hair! Our transaction completed, I drove away shaking my head. Yet in some ways, we can all be like the Soup Nazi’s patrons; as long as their services enchant us enough, we’ll put up with the nonsense -- to a point. After all, as Belle and I can attest, last night’s Kung Pao Beef was pretty amazing!
0 Comments
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
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
Categories |