Wait, I mean, you all don't do this?
Ok, story time. This is all true, I swear.
It was moving day. The weather was warm and clear, so we borrowed a friend's pickup truck, a late-1970s-era Ford F-150. Included in the cargo were my beloved speakers, Wilson Benesch A.C.Ts. Probably I should have boxed them, some might say, but serendipity was with me that day, because what transpired changed forever my understanding of both audio and music. Anyway, I hadn't kept the original boxes, and it seemed like things would be just fine, so I roped the Wilson Benesch A.C.Ts expertly to hooks on the sides of the pickup bed, with some light padding.
Everything went well for the most part: smooth driving. But then we hit a rough patch. The F-150 was bouncing all over the place on some very brutal pot holes, and I feared for the Wilson Benesch A.C.Ts, but we seemed to get through it ok. Then my friend, who was driving, plowed over several speed bumps carrying far too much velocity; I think the F-150 briefly took to the air. Everything seemed fine, though, so we completed the drive. Under the loud engine noise—my friend's F-150 had what sounded like more or less tin cans and duct tape for a muffler—I thought I heard some banging and violent scraping, like the sounds of cabinets bouncing on tarmac, and faint cracking, but I assumed it was nothing.
Upon arrival at my wife's and my new apartment, we noticed that the Wilson Benesch A.C.Tss had, er... at some point unbound themselves from some of my expert knots. They otherwise remained roped up to other cargo, and had been dragged behind the F-150 for an unknown distance, possibly as far as from the potholes as two miles, or at least as far as from the speed bumps, over half a mile. I won't lie to you fine folks: the speakers looked a bit worse for wear, to normal expectations.
I've always made it a habit to set up my hifi system first, and today could be no exception. I hastily pulled together my amplifier and CD player, plugged in the power cords and interconnects, and, with some serious trepidation, connected the speakers. Probably I should have done this before hitting the power and cranking the volume on the amp, but no harm no foul, right?
After some minutes troubleshooting my connectors and cables, I put on Joni Mitchell's Turbulent Indigo. Incidentally, this is my wife's favorite album, but that wasn't why I put it on. It was just the first CD that has handy. "Sunny Sunday" began playing, and within seconds my wife, who had been unpacking plates, came running from the kitchen. "What's happening?" she breathlessly exclaimed. "What did you do to your stereo? Wow, oh my god!" Clearly she was impressed. Really impressed.
As was I.
I was frankly flabbergasted.
This music had never sounded so good. It was incredible. Sure, one of the woofers on the left speaker had come dislodged and was technically missing. Sure, there were cracks up and down the casing, some large splinters, numerous gouges and scratches, and I think the right tweeter looked cracked right in half. Also I had botched the wiring of the interconnects and speaker cables three or four times before getting it to work. But damn was this music better than I had ever heard it! It was like a veil had been lifted from my ears. Finally, Joni Mitchell's musical genius had a direct, connective pathway to my ears and mind. It was glorious. Better than it could be imagined.
My wife loved it all so much she threatened to move out unless I turned it off. I assumed it was simply... Well. Bedroom talk is best behind closed doors, am I right?
Clearly the amp needed the same treatment: my beloved McIntosh MC500. I roped it up to my friend's pickup, but he refused to drive. It was a very delicate operation, so I understood why he was nervous. I slipped the keys out of his coat pocket and performed the operation myself.
After six or seven miles, I drove it home. I no longer thought of the amp as distressed, it was on the contrary beautiful.
I rewired the system. On the first try, nothing. It took a few more tries to get the interconnects and speaker cables correctly connected, I was just so excited.
I pressed play.
This time, Celine Dion, "My Heart Will Go On."
For the first time, I detected an olfactory illusion, such was the power of this audio treatment! I detected notes of melting plastic, something sweet but acrid, like asbestos brake pads that have been overcooked on a old bus driving downhill. WOW. There were literally sparks. And with them, goosebumps. Pure frisson. I was in ecstasy. I thought I'd never hear that music sound so transcendent!
Finally, I put on the greatest work of musical art I know. John Cage's 4'33". I'm quite sure this great masterpiece had never been reproduced over electronic media with such incredible fidelity.