Twenty-nine years ago (when I was a teenager) my parents bought me a Pioneer stereo. It was on sale for a sweet deal at a local department store. By today’s standards it is a behemoth. It consists of different components – turntable, amplifier, tuner, cassette player and CD player. The CD player was an add-on in the late 80’s. I am a nostalgic soul and consider this piece of audio equipment a dear old friend. For years I’ve compared it to a marriage – only this marriage actually came with an instruction manual to diagnose and fix what went wrong.
It is, like me, older now and some of the components don’t work as well as they used to. The speakers cut out, the tuner doesn’t tune, and some of the buttons don’t light up anymore. The turntable itself requires more tricks and prayers than trying to start and run an old Corvair. I complain about its developed struggles and problems but I can’t say much, really. My back aches more these days, my muscles twinge and I’m not as peppy as I used to be twenty-nine years ago either. But just lately I had to replace the turntable (with the same brand as my original). It runs beautifully and looks spiffy in the cabinet with all the other components but there’s a little sadness in having to replace it. After all, that original turntable and I grew up together. This new guy has a lot to live up to.
There is something cathartic about seeing a platter of black vinyl spinning on the turntable and hearing the snaps and crackles of the diamond needle traversing the channel of grooves. There is magic about that sight and sound. They call the snaps and crackles character. I agree. It reminds us that nothing in life is perfect however even the imperfections in life are enjoyable to a degree. In many ways imperfection is perfection. I have a CD player and an MP3 player. They are crazy convenient and the sound is exceptional – but they lack that one sweet sound. Character. I can’t watch the platter spin or see the toner arm swing to the edge of the record and gently ease itself into the groove – ready to play.
This old stereo has played thousands of Christmas records and tapes over the years. Music ranging from the 1950’s to more current songs. Rock, pop, country (yes, even that) and plenty more styles of music have burst from those speakers, sometimes at near-deafening levels. The stereo saw me through highs and lows in my life. The highs of birthdays and holidays. The lows of school and deaths of family members. It even provided solace on those occasions when a boyfriend and I broke up, leaving me to play mournful tunes commemorating the broken relationship (remember, drama is a teenage girl’s middle name). So I feel now that we’re both “getting up there”, we should grow older together while I mull over the “marriage manual” when something else conks out or the little lights go dark. Someday I’ll say goodbye to my loyal friend and when that happens I hope he goes out playing a ditty from a New Orleans jazz brass band.
