My Stepfather's Kick-Ass Speakers

My stepfather is a serious audiophile. When I was a child, he always had the newest and best stereo equipment, covered with incomprehensible levers and dials and, eventually, even digital readouts.

The speakers were exotic and magnificent creatures: Quads, Freds, I-don't-know-what-all; speakers that I was not allowed to touch, breathe upon, or look too hard at; speakers that may have been capable of interplanetary travel. The arrangement of furniture in the living room was entirely dependent upon the placement of the speakers. It was of vital importance to have the seating centered exactly in the "sweet spot."

He read books and subscribed to magazines about stereo equipment, always had the newest and best, yet constantly coveted the newer and better. The owner of the local hi-fi specialty shop became my stepfather's closest friend. He and his wife would come over frequently, and they'd listen to music, taking turns in the sweet spot: to historical or modern recordings of great opera, or to a bombastic Shostakovich symphony, or a Prokofiev piano concerto, or pretty much anything that causes the conductor to sweat profusely and drop two tuxedo sizes during the course of the performance.

My stepfather isn't particularly into Mozart. Not enough dynamic range, you see. It doesn't really showcase the speakers.

It's just one of those things, something I once took for granted as a normal part of life, but which I haven't really thought about in years; until just a few minutes ago when my stepfather emailed me a picture of his new speakers, and all the memories in the world came flooding back.

He says these blow the Quads completely out of the water.