Woofers, Tweeters and My Aching Hips

Sculpture by Ernst Berlach

The hard drive on my old computer finally bit the dust, and it cost less to buy a new one (on sale) than it would to have the old one repaired. I've spent the last week moving files around in the new one and getting used to all the bright and shiny other stuff that came home with it.

One of those new things was a sleek, black screen, 20-inch monitor. Aha, I rejoiced, no more squinting at that old tiny 15-inch screen when I try to watch Harry's Law. What I couldn't understand about my new set-up was the fact that no sound came out of the monitor speakers, yet if I plugged in a set of earphones into the hard drive tower, I heard perfect sound. I ended up taking the PC and monitor back to the store to have the techies take a look at it.

Turns out, I had placed the PC end of the sound cable to the monitor in the wrong jack. What can I say? I'm barely beyond computer literate -- well, actually, a good bit beyond merely literate -- but nowhere near as savvy as I'd like, or need, to be.

The techie-du-jour plugged the cable into the correct jack, clicked on a music sample and we both covered our ears in dismay. I rather imagined the shock we felt was akin to that suffered by attendees of the first talkies. I haven't heard such tinny sounds since my first transistor radio back in the mid-1960s!

Techie and I discussed the value of upgrading my new Screecher monitor for a more expensive one, but he said they all sound pretty much alike nowadays, and that I would do better to buy a $20 pair of external speakers. He said the sound would be much better. We went to the computer accessories aisle and picked up three sets to try out with my PC: the El Cheapos model, a Mid-range Modestly Priced set, and the Not-Quite-NASA's-Budget-But-Getting-There, Deluxe-Saw-Me-Coming set.

The $20 set was okay, and if I didn't intend to play music CDs or movies on my PC, they would have been perfect, background hiss notwithstanding. The Mama Bear set, about $10 more, were better yet, though still hissed a bit. The woofer that came with the mid-priced set added richness to the sounds, and I almost told Techie to wrap 'em up, he'd made the sale. But, I stayed my tongue, and he unpacked the more expensive ones and plugged them in.

Well, honey, let me tell you! I felt myself wrapped in music, my eardrums caressed by the most seductive bass notes, the most alluring mid-tones and the brightest highs like one used to hear coming from one of the more expensive hi-fi sets from years ago. (I'm gushing, aren't I? Forgive me.)

Techie told me, just before the NASA-budget set and I reached the cash register, that I'd probably want to keep the volume and tone knobs set at the mid-point, otherwise I might damage my hearing if I kept them any higher. I wondered, briefly, if he was making an unkind allusion to my advanced (to his view) age, but let it go.

First thing I did when I got the speakers home and plugged in (correctly this time) was find the sample music file on the PC. I clicked on a tune called Kalimba, by an artist named Mr. Scruff, from his (their?) album titled "Ninja Tuna". It's an instrumental, sort of samba-ish, a very good dance beat. Sounded wonderful.

Then, despite the warning from Techie, I cranked the volume up as high as it would go and played with the tone knob, first bringing the bass up as far as it would go, then in the other direction.

The bass! Oh, my freaking GOODNESS! Now I know why kids drive boom boxes on wheels. That sound gets into you, grabs you by the spine and gives you a good shake. Of course, I also know now why Techie warned me. I'm still hearing, a couple of hours later, a buzz from that boom-shicka-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM, BOOM-MAMA-BOOM-BOOM!

I looked at the wall, behind the shelf where the boom-woofer was ensconced, and saw it was vibrating something fierce. Glen, who lives next door, came out into his back yard, looking for the sound. The birds in the trees were struck dumb, their poor little eyes glazed over, their tiny toes clenching the limbs and twigs upon which they were perched. One starling pitched over and hung upside down, its claws in a death grip on the internet cable it had lighted upon only moments before.

Before the back door danced off its hinges, I shut and locked it, then turned down the volume and adjusted the bass back to more normal levels. Notice the qualifier. "To more normal levels."

Not exactly.

It is a mystery what came over me this afternoon. Maybe it is Spring working her magic. Maybe it is the last of the depression vacating my soul. Maybe it's hormonal (my dreams have taken on an erotic flavor of late, now that I think of it.) Who knows? Who cares?! I danced to the beat of an invigorating South American sound for a good twenty minutes or longer, hitting the replay button over and over again.

I'd do it again, right now, if I could get up. I think it was a mistake to sit down to write this, because my hips have calcified in this sitting position. I can't move.

Techie didn't go far enough with his warning.