As I’ve mentioned before in this space, I live in a community of townhouses in east-end Toronto. My friend Rob lives at the end of a block of four units, so he’s essentially semidetached. My other audiophile neighbor, Ron, is two doors down. For the first installment of this saga, we’d placed two SB-2000 Pro subs in Ron’s place, backing up his LS3/5a monitors. A pair of SVS 3000 Micros went to Rob’s house, where they augmented his Focus Audio FP60 BEs. Everyone involved was having a ton of fun, with the possible exception of the unfortunate neighbor sandwiched between them. That said, Ron and Rob are well-liked in this group of nine homes, so I doubt there are any problems.
It began right after the YG Acoustics Peaks Ascent speakers went back to Colorado. The speakers had spent their final weeks in Canada over at Rob’s place, and Rob had been loving the experience. He’s had three different sets of speakers in his system over the past while, including my own Aurelia Cerica XLs and, after the YGs went back, my Focus Audio FP60 BEs.
At 7200 feet above sea level, Santa Fe, New Mexico, is the highest state capital in the US. I’ve experienced higher altitudes, but nothing approaching this in the last 40 years. A couple of hours after arriving in Santa Fe for the launch of Siltech’s new Master Crown series of cables, I ran across the road from my hotel to the gas station to buy a few bottles of water. As I stepped up on the curb, I felt a touch lightheaded and way more out of breath than I expected. That ain’t right, I thought to myself.
So, I got a panicked call from my buddy Marc. It was a veritable audio emergency.
I’ve known Marc for about 14 years—he was originally (and still is) my wife’s friend. They’d gone to the same high school in her small town, and were part of the same still-close friend group. Marc works in the movie industry, and for a number of years he stayed at our house during the week to avoid the two-hour commute back home.
As I was walking down the hallway of one of the exhibition floors at the Florida International Audio Expo this year, I spotted Gary Yacoubian outside SVS’s stuffed-full room. Yacoubian is president and CEO of SVS, which is famous for its high-value subwoofers. We’ve crossed paths at shows once or twice, but never had much in the way of face-to-face dealings. That said, I reviewed the company’s PC13-Ultra cylindrical powered subwoofer back in 2013. I just loved this all-business, overbuilt powerhouse, which, at $1699 (all prices in USD), proved to be a superb performer and a smoking bargain. In fact, I loved it so much I ended up buying the review sample, and it’s been lurking there, over my right shoulder, ever since.
Over the course of one day this past holiday season, my neighbor Rob and I moved—by my calculations—almost 900 pounds of speakers. The list was as follows, with all weights per pair:
A few weeks ago, a friend of my wife’s shot her a text asking if she or I would be interested in accompanying him to listen to Geddy Lee, bassist of Canadian band Rush, discussing his new book, My Effin’ Life.
I consider myself unreasonably lucky. In 1999, I moved into my current home, which is one of a block of nine townhouses. The houses were built in 1986 as what’s known in Toronto as infill housing. The land was part of a farm in the late 1800s, and as Toronto spread outward, the land was sold off in parcels. Encircled by houses, ours was the last remaining undeveloped lot in the area, which is less than two miles from the city’s core.
I have this recurring dream that hits me about once every six months. I’m back in university, it’s getting close to the end of the year, and I realize that I haven’t attended a single class for one particular course. I’m now silently dream-freaking. I realize I can’t complete the course, I can’t drop it, and it’s all my own fault.
SoundStage! isn’t my only side hustle. Through the spring, summer, and fall here in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, I also moonlight as senior editor of Inside Motorcycles, a Canadian print magazine. My duties at IM mirror those here at SoundStage!—I test stuff and write about it. I test motorcycles, helmets, clothing, and parts, and I write touring travel articles. But mostly I test motorcycles.
It’s not often that I second guess my choices of review gear. For the most part, I’m left to my own devices for arranging products, although a fair number of items come my way by recommendations from Doug Schneider or Jeff Fritz, who manage SoundStage! But they know my system and my preferences. And for damn sure, they know the size of my room when they’re choosing speakers.
I hate water. Over the past 20 years, I’ve had a number of house-related floods, including a sewer-backup shit-water apocalypse, two washing-machine overflows, and a leak behind a wall that required removing and replacing the entire wastewater stack, spanning four floors of my home.
So in order to fix a burst pipe, I had to cut a big honking hole in the wall right behind my equipment rack. I didn't really expect such an activity to affect the sound quality of my system -- not in the least. But I distinctly noticed two effects.
"That can't be right," I thought as I looked at my phone. The UPS tracking info said that the Nordost cable shipment I was expecting was Delivered. But there was nobody home during the day to accept the package. Surely it should have read: The customer was not available on the first attempt. They wouldn't have left a box containing many thousands of dollars' worth of cables on my front doorstep like it was a sample of laundry soap, would they?
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