Some months back, SoundStage! founder Doug Schneider said something to me that has been rolling around in my brain ever since, accumulating some of the debris that results from my own habitus. The quip was simply this: “People get source devices. They understand those. They get speakers. They know what those are. But these days, they just have no clue what any of the stuff in the middle actually is or does.”
That certainly tracks with some of my conversations with my own dad, who has a surround-sound system at home, and yet could not point to the A/V receiver in his gear rack at gunpoint if you told him to. He can’t even remember what the thing is called.
But let’s face it: at the age of 82, my dad has almost certainly purchased his last piece of audio gear, so the fact that he doesn’t understand how the hip bone connects to the thigh bone isn’t of much consequence to the overall health and longevity of this hobby of ours.
But how to investigate this further outside the boundaries of my own immediate family? That’s the question that’s been itching some unscratched corner of my brain for a few months now, until a potentially interesting framing device occurred to me.
One thing I’m not sure my SoundStage! fam knows about me is that I’m an avid swimmer. I start every day doing a half-hour lap session in the indoor pool at my local YMCA. On the way in and out, I encounter a fascinating slice of humanity, ranging from young to old, from proletariat to haute bourgeoisie, and covering as diverse a racial spectrum as you’ll find here in Montgomery, AL.
One day, I was chatting with Anjelica, aged 23, who works the front desk on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. We were discussing the music the youths are listening to these days, which I saw as a good segue into this topic.
“Hey, kiddo,” I said. “Let’s pretend we were hanging out at your place and you wanted to play a song for me. How would you even do that?”
“I’d put my headphones on your head,” she shot back, looking at me as if I’d asked over which horizon the sun would appear to rise tomorrow morning.
“No, like, out loud,” I responded. “In the room. So we could both listen to it together.”
Anjelica: Oh! I guess either on my TV—it has a Spotify app—or this dinky little Bluetooth speaker I have. It’s a little waterproof one I take into the shower, but it’s one of those brands whose name makes no sense. Just random capital letters. I can’t remember it.
Me: Is the sound quality of that thing satisfying to you?
Anjelica: Absolutely not. I’m super picky about how things sound, because I like music to be punchy and full and clear. Like, most headphones I’ve bought for my phone are fine for calls and alerts and stuff, but they sound bad with music because they’re not very full and . . . dynamic? I’ve heard you use that word. I don’t get that punch I want. They just don’t do it for me.
Me: So why do you listen to the crappy little speaker you don’t like if you’re so picky about sound?
Anjelica: Well, I live with my grandmother, and let’s put it this way: my favorite kind of music is “the more profanity the better.” So I can’t listen to my music loud, even if I’m listening out loud. But once I get my own place—I mean, if I can ever afford my own place—it would be amazing to have a way to share music with people in the room.
I’d love to be able to entertain people, and music would be a huge part of that because it’s such a huge part of who I am. I mean, even if it’s just background music, I think it’d be great to have a music system to just fill the room with kinda quiet music to cover up any awkward silences. But then I also want to be able to crank it when I want to and still have it sound good.
Me: So, what does that mean to you? A music system—what does that look like?
Anjelica: . . .
. . .
I . . . have no idea. That’s so sad, but I didn’t realize until you asked me that I thought I knew what that meant, but I really don’t.
I imagine it’s just speakers and, I guess, a record player? I wanted to say a CD player, but that doesn’t make sense because nobody sells CDs anymore, which makes me sad. Of the music I listen to, I don’t even think much of it is released on CD. Really sad. Nobody owns anything anymore.
But, like, what do I imagine in my head when I think of a real grownup music system?
Me: And what would go in between the speakers and the record player?
Anjelica: I’m not even sure where I’d start, other than asking you.
I mean, we recently got a new wireless speaker here in the lobby and I think it sounds great. All the different instruments are the same level. Nothing is so much louder or quieter than everything else that it starts to sound weird. And it’s got good punch.
It sounds so good that I looked at it the other day to see the brand. It’s a JBL, which makes sense. I mean, I guess if I wanted to upgrade to something that could fill the room—because that JBL is just one speaker, so it gets loud when you’re close to it but quiet on this side of the lobby, or if you play it loud enough to really enjoy it over here, nobody can sit over there—I guess I would just go to JBL’s website and see if they sell . . . what? A stereo system? Is that what you’d call it? Just a stereo? I don’t know.
Me: It’s interesting to me that you have some brand awareness. Your Bluetooth speaker at home is just a random collection of capital letters to you, but JBL you know right off the top of your head. Even though that’s still a collection of capital letters.
Anjelica: Well, I know JBL because they make good headphones. I didn’t even know they made speakers until we got this one for the lobby.
Anyway, if I were ever able to have my own place and host a big group of friends or family, I’d have to have something larger and something more than one speaker, but I just wouldn’t know where to start. I really wouldn’t. It would be cool, though.
I also spoke with Eboni, 26, who’s usually working the front desk when Anjelica is at school or at her other job. I started with this question:
Me: I’ve heard you say before that you think records are really cool. If I gave you a record player and some LPs, would you know how to listen to them? Would you know what else you needed to beg, borrow, or steal to make it work?
Eboni: Not a clue.
Me: Give it a guess.
Eboni: I mean, I would think you just plug it into the wall and the record player plays the record. Like, what else is there?
Me: Speakers?
Eboni: Don’t they have speakers built in, though?
Me: It’s humbling to me just how much my industry is failing to reach people like you who have the interest in this stuff but just don’t know how to get started. But let me change the subject a little bit on you here. If you had a sound system that could play records, would it be important to you that it also be able to connect to your TV and deliver better sound for movies and TV shows?
Eboni: Yeah, absolutely. My TV sounds so bad. I’ve been saving up for a soundbar, though.
Me: Do you have any conception of how much a good stereo system costs?
Eboni: I know they’re a lot.
Me: How much do you think is a lot? How much do you think a really good stereo system costs?
Eboni: Like I said: a lot. Maybe $400 or $500?
Now, lest you look at the ages of the interviewees above and come to the conclusion that this is a young-folks problem, consider my friend William, 61, who didn’t want to be interviewed or recorded, but did consent to a photo and a summary of our ongoing conversation about audio.
William attends an early aqua-aerobics class first thing in the morning when I’m swimming laps on the other side of the pool, and we’re often in the locker room at the same time on our way out. One day, he sheepishly approached me and said, “Hey, Dennis, where would I go around here to buy a record player? I’ve still got all my old records. I just don’t have any way to listen to them. I’ve looked at the new record players at Walmart, and they ain’t no ’count. I want a solid turntable like my dad had when we were kids.”
So I sent him up the road to talk to Stephen at Classic Audio and Records, who was so instrumental in helping me figure out what I was looking for in a turntable of my own. And I just assumed that next time I saw William, he’d be bragging about his new acquisition and giddy about the first record he spun on it.
Instead, he was noticeably forlorn and defeated. “Found a couple of used turntables in my budget,” he said to me, “but I completely forgot about the fact that I need an amp. Truck’s busted right now, so money is tight, and I can do one or the other but not both.”
I just so happened to have an old Sony integrated amp in storage that I’d been looking to rehome for a while now, since it’s underpowered for my purposes, behind the times in terms of digital connectivity, and somewhat unfortunate-looking. But I asked William what speakers he had collecting dust in the attic, figured they’d work just fine as long as he didn’t want to rattle the walls, and gave it to him next time I saw him.
A few weeks passed, and I asked William how he was enjoying the amp and whether or not he thought he was going to get a turntable soon, and he yet again deflated in front of me. “I think I just need to give that amp back to you, man. Truck broke down again, and it’s gonna be a while before I can get a record player. Hi-fi just isn’t in the budget right now.”
I shot back, “Man, you’ve got a hi-fi system already. You had speakers. I gave you an integrated amp. You’ve got an iPhone. Just connect to it via Bluetooth.”
“And what do I need to buy to make that work?” he asked.
“Nothing, bubba. It’s built in!”
He laughed and said, “Man, things were simpler when we were kids. You went to Sears and Roebuck or Montgomery Ward and put a stereo on layaway, and when you paid it off, you brought it home and plugged it in and everything just made sense. You didn’t think about connecting your phone to it because that wasn’t a thing. Even after I grew up, you could walk into Circuit City and see what was new, put your hands on it, see how it worked. This stuff is all just too complicated now, and there ain’t nowhere to put your hands on it.”
That’s a good point. At any rate, the next time I saw William, he was grinning ear to ear. “Hey, man, I sat down with one of my grandbabies this weekend and shared some of my music with ’em from my phone. Thank you. I wouldn’t have even thought about that being a thing. But music sure makes life better, doesn’t it? Especially if you’re sharing it with somebody.”
This phenomenon also plays out on a daily basis online. Spend much time on Reddit, and you’ll quickly become accustomed to seeing cries for help on r/turntables or r/vinyl like this one from posters who get the concept of speakers and source devices but don’t even know what stuff goes between them, much less how to connect it all.
All of which says to me that we’re failing normies, especially the ones who are hi-fi-curious. And yes, I recognize the fact that mocking the uninitiated is one of the identitarian pillars of our hobby. We build gates and guard them jealously and pat ourselves on the back because we’re better than the unwashed masses, given that we know words like “imaging” and “dynamics” and—well, this is awkward—“soundstage.”
We convince ourselves that normies are happy with good enough. That they only want their phones and cheap earbuds. That they just don’t care about good sound. Which is obviously pure twaddle. Even at my little local YMCA, I have conversations about music and good sound reproduction with at least six different people on a somewhat regular basis. I’ve become the guy who knows about this stuff. And I’m frankly shocked by how many of them are interested—and sometimes outright eager—to learn more. I know for certain that at least two of my fellow Y members have purchased WiiM Amps based on my recommendation, and they’re thrilled with them.
At any rate, I’m not sure where this rant is going and I don’t have the solution to all the problems raised herein. But I do know this for certain: going forward, I’m doubling down on my commitment to covering more all-in-one “just add speakers” systems, both here and on SoundStage! Simplifi. I know such systems are gauche to the average audiophile, who’s likely indoctrinated in the cult of separates for separates’ sake. But at the very least, we need to treat these one-box solutions like training wheels. Because I’m telling you: there’s a legitimate appetite for higher-fidelity sound, even at my little YMCA in the middle of Alabama.
Is it enough of an appetite to bring hi-fi back into the mainstream? Of course not. But it’s something. It’s enough to inject a bit of adrenaline into the heart of our hobby. We just need to be there to help these people figure out not only how to hook up a stereo system, but—first and most importantly—what the heck a stereo system even is.
. . . Dennis Burger
dennisb@soundstagenetwork.com
