Walking in on the ground floor.
My understanding of how amplifiers work otherwise known as The Great Void Of Ignorance.
1. Get a box.
2. Give it power.
3. Connect more boxes and things that spin.
4. Listen to the noise come out of some of those boxes.
So much of the music recreation process is taken for granted. I had never bothered to ask the how or the why. For me it was an experiential process; trial and error, matching things that sounded good. Boxes with wires that make noises come out. Connect a disc, tape, or chip and music comes out; spin a dial and audio is pulled from the air itself.
It is integral and taken for granted. So much of the mystery is lost to the mundanities of everyday life. The impetus to question long replaced with acquiescence. The day dawns because the sun rises, music issues forth because I push play. For whatever reason we have stepped away from being healthy skeptics - perhaps out of convenience alone. We let others do that for us; there's probably an app for it.
Generally speaking, this arrangement suits us just fine.
Right up until the time you try and do something for yourself.
Things had settled at this point in my life. I had a good job, a good family life, a good dog. I had a house I enjoyed living in and friends who kept me humble. I had built a sizable record collection and was enjoying a pretty stable relationship with a monster Rotel.
I spent the winter planning some renovations around the house and by fall we had finished them. I parred down my record collection. Sad to part with such fine discs as The Complete Works of Jimmy Swaggart, The Singing Nuns and 60’s American Pop Classics Re-imagined for Hammond Organ, in German. It was part of growing up. Letting go the follies of youth to make room for the joys of maturity.
One evening, as I sat looking at the world through the internet, a rambling train of thought took flight:
Camera pans across a room. A man sits at a desk. His hunch seasoned by hours in front of a laptop. The screens reflection, warped, obscures his eyes behind his glasses. The clock on the wall mets out the unrelenting passing of time.
Me: Point. Click. Point. Click. Point. Point. Click Bait. Point. Click.
Me:Oh, hey! That’s an (sounds a lot like Pryston) preamp.
My Brain: You totally had one of those.
Me: Yeah, I miss that preamp. It was my first passive pre.
My Brain: They never made a passive model. It was a mystery wrapped in an enigma and you never found out where it really came from.
Me: That’s true, but I did speak to that guy who showed me a really simple passive set up.
My Brain: That was the guy who said he made his first pre amp from a kit?
Me: Yeah, he’s was a friend of a friend who….Wait, what? There are DIY pre amps?
Camera pulls back over the shoulder of the man. The man sits stock still, lost deep in thought. The clock ticks on. Camera reverse pans. Scene fades out.
There I was with a fledgling idea born in my head. Awash in possibilities I dug into a fevered period of research. I became an extension of my desk chair, sustained only by Pizza. I prowled the depths of the internet taking in all I could.
Gradually, by increments, a plan took form:
I would build an amp. That much was clear.
But first, I would shower.
Next Up: My staggering List Of Questions.
Part 1 can be found here.
My understanding of how amplifiers work otherwise known as The Great Void Of Ignorance.
1. Get a box.
2. Give it power.
3. Connect more boxes and things that spin.
4. Listen to the noise come out of some of those boxes.
So much of the music recreation process is taken for granted. I had never bothered to ask the how or the why. For me it was an experiential process; trial and error, matching things that sounded good. Boxes with wires that make noises come out. Connect a disc, tape, or chip and music comes out; spin a dial and audio is pulled from the air itself.
It is integral and taken for granted. So much of the mystery is lost to the mundanities of everyday life. The impetus to question long replaced with acquiescence. The day dawns because the sun rises, music issues forth because I push play. For whatever reason we have stepped away from being healthy skeptics - perhaps out of convenience alone. We let others do that for us; there's probably an app for it.
Generally speaking, this arrangement suits us just fine.
Right up until the time you try and do something for yourself.
Things had settled at this point in my life. I had a good job, a good family life, a good dog. I had a house I enjoyed living in and friends who kept me humble. I had built a sizable record collection and was enjoying a pretty stable relationship with a monster Rotel.
I spent the winter planning some renovations around the house and by fall we had finished them. I parred down my record collection. Sad to part with such fine discs as The Complete Works of Jimmy Swaggart, The Singing Nuns and 60’s American Pop Classics Re-imagined for Hammond Organ, in German. It was part of growing up. Letting go the follies of youth to make room for the joys of maturity.
One evening, as I sat looking at the world through the internet, a rambling train of thought took flight:
Camera pans across a room. A man sits at a desk. His hunch seasoned by hours in front of a laptop. The screens reflection, warped, obscures his eyes behind his glasses. The clock on the wall mets out the unrelenting passing of time.
Me: Point. Click. Point. Click. Point. Point. Click Bait. Point. Click.
Me:Oh, hey! That’s an (sounds a lot like Pryston) preamp.
My Brain: You totally had one of those.
Me: Yeah, I miss that preamp. It was my first passive pre.
My Brain: They never made a passive model. It was a mystery wrapped in an enigma and you never found out where it really came from.
Me: That’s true, but I did speak to that guy who showed me a really simple passive set up.
My Brain: That was the guy who said he made his first pre amp from a kit?
Me: Yeah, he’s was a friend of a friend who….Wait, what? There are DIY pre amps?
Camera pulls back over the shoulder of the man. The man sits stock still, lost deep in thought. The clock ticks on. Camera reverse pans. Scene fades out.
There I was with a fledgling idea born in my head. Awash in possibilities I dug into a fevered period of research. I became an extension of my desk chair, sustained only by Pizza. I prowled the depths of the internet taking in all I could.
Gradually, by increments, a plan took form:
I would build an amp. That much was clear.
But first, I would shower.
Next Up: My staggering List Of Questions.
Part 1 can be found here.
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