Walking in other shoes
I remain flummoxed by the audio sound I heard in some rooms at RMAF: sound that was so bad it reminded me more of the noise a cat makes when you grab their tail or nails on a blackboard. No, really.
The owners of the equipment believed their sound was worthy of public demonstration. There’s merit in that system I am not hearing. That pains me.
Perhaps it’s a personal character flaw believing at our core we’re all the same. Clear away the opinions, biases, and prejudices and we all want the same things: happiness, security, fulfillment, success, agreement with others.
There is something to be learned here and I am struggling to wrap my head around it in the same way I struggled to enjoy the music of Wagner. Even there I have made some progress as helpful readers have pointed me towards Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde and I find that music to have merit. There is a dent being made.
Perhaps some helpful readers can improve my understanding of how some reproduced music can be so bad yet be considered good.
If I could walk in those shoes perhaps a light bulb would click on and I could share an aha! moment.
Audio shows like RMAF are wonderful venues for learning new things and seeing new products. I wander the show and poke my head in rooms new to me in the hopes of finding undiscovered gems: new products that float my boat.
What amazes me is the amount of bad sounding rooms. I don’t mean sound that could be a little better or that is somewhat problematic. I mean just plain awful, screechy, tinny, sound unworthy of even an entry-level home system. At an audio show!
I know these are harsh words and I don’t mean them to hurt or offend—nor do I stand on a pillar saying our sound is so much better. Heck, our setup too had its problems: a bit boomy, often tubby in the midbass, too narrow a sweet spot. But, it sounded like music.
Kevin Jackson grabbed my arm and hauled me down the hall to see the biggest horn speakers I had ever laid eyes on. Wow. But then the music started playing and I found myself aghast at its sonic assault. My jaw dropped and I looked around the filled room for the reaction of others. Toe tapping and smiles. Do they not hear what I hear?
We speak so much of subtle nuanced differences that it is hard for me to wrap my head and ears around sound so grossly wrong and untrue to what real instruments sound like that I cannot muster the words to explain.
Shrugging one’s shoulders and uttering “different strokes” does not help me understand.