Ever since I moved into this apartment a month ago I have taken great pleasure in putting my turntable to use. For some reason, when I bought the thing it sounded crap whenever I used it through the stereo I used to have at home. I had to use a preamp since the receiver was one model number away from having a phono jack packaged with it. For some reason (that some total tech dickwad would gladly share with you over milk and cookies), using that preamp through the receiver not only sounded bad, it was also way too quiet to matter. Therefore, I did what anyone in my position would do: I stopped using it.
Fast forward to my previous apartment (the one with the cocksmoking nuthound that lived upstairs and stomped about day and night) and I purchase a lovely set of plug-and-play speakers for my laptop. I just wanted something decent. Much to my surprise these things sound fucking boss. Boner city. The sub is more than powerful enough to piss off any neighbor who dreams of me standing over them at night with Naked City CDs in hand.
Unfortunately for me, my turntable was packed away in a corner since the damn place was often housing five hapless souls in its one-bedroom splendor.
Things had to change.
And so we are here in the now in this spacious little number in stripper central.
(As an aside, we received a complimentary copy of the Koran at our door the other day. I couldn’t have been happier. I’ve wanted one of those babies for a while, and the idea of the Koran being handed out in a place as backwards as, well, as America by some sort of Islamic Gideons is just too cool.)
So I now have more than enough room to whip out the vinyl and use the old phonograph. And man, I’ve got to tell you, listening to Black Sabbath’s Heaven and Hell through my Sony is a fucking revelation. The bass response is simply majestic, and the mix is full. If I weren’t such a modest man I would service myself in the mirror while listening to that album. Just saying, it’s that good.
If you know my writing from the Nonalignment Pact, then maybe you remember my mentioning the extreme metal magazine out of Philadelphia, Decibel. If not, know that I love that damn thing. And also know that every month Decibel adds another album to their Hall of Fame.
So, as I was listening to Heaven and Hell I was thinking to myself that it would be badass if Decibel had the sense to use H&H as their next Hall of Fame entry. So I grab the new issue yesterday, and there it is, Hall of Fame, bitches. So well deserved. Buy the album on vinyl, buy Decibel, buy some crack and snag some steel wool from the pantry, retire to your den, grab your full length mirror and some lube and have yourself a night.
And you’re welcome.
Oh yeah, there is another thing.
I have a really scary vinyl collection. Most of my records I have acquired from my mother who was liquidating her stuff years back since she had no turntable of her own anymore. This meant I ended up with gems like Charles Aznovour, Johnny Halliday, Serge Gainsbourg, Barbara Streisand, Cat Stevens, The Kingsmen and so many others. It also meant I ended up with several albums that my cousin left with my mom for some reason, stuff like Savoy Brown, The Beatles, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, The James Gang, and Traffic.
So I’ve been playing Traffic’s The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys. I really dig a pretty good chunk of that album. Sure, it gets a little “flutey” so to speak, and it has that doofus, Steve Winwood, on it, but overall that thing rocks. I highly recommend it. And don’t fuck around with a CD of it, or worse still, a fucking download. What you need is the vinyl and here’s why… Check out the unit on the guy on the far left side of the front row! Holy fuck! What is in his pants for god's sake? I know it was the 70s, and I know that it was de rigueur to have the old armadillo in trou’, but Jesus H., that is some scary shit. I’m not sure who that guy is. I assume he was the sax player, Chris Wood (Wood, hahahahahaha), because he has that apparatus around his neck. For some reason, he also seems to be holding a fucking walkie-talkie in his left hand! What the fuck for? What self-respecting genital mutant needs a walkie-talkie anyway? Whoever he is, there is some serious shit going down in his pants. His package is so disproportionately large that it seems almost hard to imagine that the guy donning it would have the abdominal strength to stand up straight. There is so much action in that guy’s crotchal region that it is almost possible to not even notice the batshit crazy black guy next to him. What’s up with the black dude? Full camo zipper suit? Woven straw hat? Ridiculously dark oversized sunglasses? They’re all there, but you would be totally forgiven for not noticing thanks to Mr. Cock and Balls over on the left.