New Life for a Dying Breed

                                                                         

In with the new; together, the size of a hardcover novel, laid sideways 

     It all started when my old CD player began shorting out.
     The disc feeder had already been giving me trouble, rubbing when it opened and closed. I figured it was time take out the old and bring in the new.
     I know what you’re thinking, a CD player in 2019? Don’t laugh. I also have my old Kenwood cassette player connected to my Kenwood receiver, which I'm running through two 40-year-old 8-inch JBL speakers.
     I’m not a Luddite. I do “stream” music on my iPhone over a Bose speaker, but my Kenwood set-up and hearty JBLs have been with me half a lifetime, and with such a gargantuan sound, the idea of parting with any of it is damn near traumatic.
     I’m a hardcore music lover. For me, music isn’t just entertainment. It goes deeper, much, much deeper, down to the core and into the marrow. The old Kenwood system delivering the sound, though bulky, is critical to the mission, and, I admit, a little battle fatigued..
     Also, it’s a part of the family, even if my kids are grown and gone, with their own music systems. The music through the Kenwood and JBLs has taught my kids the loneliness of “desolation row” and wily ways of “highway 61. It’s taught them to believe “the wolf will survive.” It’s taken them from the hardscrabble life of the Jamaica slums to the surly streets of Compton, from the mountains of Kentucky, down to the Rio Grande Valley, the El Monte Legion Stadium and points beyond.
     My “set-up” has seen me, personally, through some difficult times, bringing me even more relief than the doctor's prescriptions. In all these years, it’s never faltered, just the opposite. It’s acted as the remedy. So now I'm faced with the decision to replace or repair a brother component.
     I jumped in my car and headed to Best Buy. I picked-up a new CD player, cheap and easy since there were only two choices. I rushed home, set it up, loaded in my favorite CD, and sat back to savor the sound. Argggh! It started cutting out, worse than the old one. How could this be? It was new. I hate the word “defective”. It always means needless running around.
     I pushed buttons like a madman, going from the CD to the cassette to the radio. Surprise! I realized it wasn’t the CD player at all. The problem was my old Kenwood receiver, the brains of the outfit, el mero, mero, the old first sergeant.
     I disconnected and reconnected the wires; nothing worked. My Kenwood receiver, my baby, was slowly leaving me, gasping its last sonic signals, preparing for hospice. Ni modo.
     I returned the CD player and came home with a new low-end Sony receiver. After I connected everything and spent a couple of hours figuring how to program the thing with the remote, I heard FM music coming through my mighty JBLs, but not like before. What a disappointment. The music sounded tinny and mono.
     I needed to bring my old Kenwood back to life. I searched for an audio repair in the Yellow Pages. Yikes, Yellow Pages? They still publish those?
     There aren’t many repair joints around anymore. What happened to Herb’s Radio and Television Repair just around the corner? Not even a Jose’s out there. Finally, I locate a place out near La Brea on Washington boulevard, a bit of a trek from Venice and Sepulveda, on the Westside.
     I check the reviews online. I call.
     My Kenwood in working condition is worth all of $35, maybe $50 on a good day. The woman on the phone tells me they want $80.00 just to check it out. What to do? Facebook, of course.
     I ask friends for their opinions. Predictable, veteranos say to repair the Kenwood. Old stuff is always better than the new junk out there. They don’t make them like they used to. The new ones don’t match up, nothing like the sounds of the old Kenwoods, Pioneers, Sonys, and Maranzes. Bloga founder Michael Sedano suggests I hit the local segunda. Those thrift stores always have cool old equipment on the racks. He found a classic receiver at one.
                                                                                 

The local thrift store; stereo systems waiting to be called back to the front

     The younger generation sends me links to view the newest Bose and Sonos streaming speakers. They say I should put that old stuff out to pasture, get with the program and step into the future.
     I go crazy analyzing what is best, the old or the new, experience or youth? I enjoy streaming music on Spotify, a whole new world, but the sound just isn’t the same, not to my Kenwood-JBL-spoiled ears.
     I get the address of the audio repair and drive across town. It’s got a fancy, techy name. It’s located in an industrial, “seedy” part of L.A. I take in my barely-breathing Kenwood and explain my dilemma, especially the difference in sound quality, the old versus the new.
     The guy, an older, short, balding man, the owner, is sympathetic. That's his job, to put old soldiers back into combat. He tells me his guys can fix the Kenwood, make it like new, but for no less than $250, maybe closer to $300. My Mom, a weekend garage sales specialist, speaks to me from the great beyond, “Mijo, that makes no sense, not for something only worth $35.” She uses a double negative. I let it pass. She’s made her point.
     It’s like the guy hears her. He says, “It’s a lot of money, but if you like the sound, it’s worth the investment. In my opinion, a good receiver today will cost $500, minimum.”
     I can’t get my Kenwood's lush sound out of my head.
                                                                               

Like old soldiers waiting for new orders

     The guy takes me out back, an enormous warehouse, at least a dozen technicians, in cubicles, working on equipment, surrounded by shelves filled with all kinds of electronic systems, large and small, some for personal home use, but most of it for movies and recording studios, a hospital for my old Kenwood.
     “Okay, fix it,” I tell him.
     “I probably won’t get to it for at least three weeks. You can see, the boys have got a lot of work here.” I look around again. Most of the technicians are Latinos.
     I write a check for $80.00 and hand it to Felicia, the Latina clerk up front. She hands me a receipt.
     By the time I arrive home, I’m having regrets, again analyzing the pros and cons, the old versus the new, and what about all my CDs, cassettes, and vinyl records? I can’t imagine tossing my old Kenwood (WIA) into the trash, and taking the rest to the local segunda, like taking my dogs to the pound and just dumping them.
     By the way, if old is so, well--old, why is vinyl making a comeback? Hipsters claim the old vinyl has a better sound quality (organic) than all the new stuff (a recreated sound). Next, they’ll be saying 8-tracks are king.
     My mom's logic has gotten to me. I call the repair shop and ask Felicia to stop the check. I’ve changed my mind. She says it’s no problem, except my check is already on the way to the bank. I’ll need to come in to pick up the Kenwood and have her issue a new check. I ask if she wants to keep the Kenwood. She laughs.
     I’m not sure what to do. I hit the pawn shops and thrift store circuit looking for vintage receivers. Nothing but junk. It tires me out. Then, I think, why not go online and explore what folks are saying about the new stuff. I read the reviews. I take a chance, go back to Best Buy and pick up a Denon AV series, which people are raving about. Denon, that’s a good strong name, right, Swiss, French, maybe even Spanish.
                                                                           

A blend of the new (top) and the old (bottom)

     I bring home the Denon and hook it up to the old KLH CD and Kenwood Cassette players. My JBLs are happy. I get the FM station playing. The sound isn’t bad. It takes work and time to program everything with the remote. I mean, it’s all digital, mini-computers. I call the Denon service people to help me out. Finally, I’ve gotten everything going, cassettes, CDs, even my iPhone, all from one remote.

     Wait! My CD player still rubs when it opens. I realize I’ve placed it on the bottom, to prop up the receiver and cassette player. It's like an ox with a yoke. I shuffle stuff around. I put the new Denon on a separate shelf and place the lighter weight CD player on top of the cassette player, lightening the load. Like magic, no more rubbing. The CD player releases a sigh of relief, after all these years.
                                                                                 

Big boy, the 8" JBL, Polyphemus

     Still using the remote, and struggling with the “option” and “setup” settings, I figure out how to adjust the volume and sounds. My JBLs are blasting. The sound is sharp and crisp. The bass pounds the walls. The blend of the old and new is just right, the yin and the yang, symmetrical, balanced, a Buddhist sound system.
     I crank it up, louder and louder. I laugh, happily streaming the music of Tyler Childress, a 28-year-old kid out of Kentucky I recently discovered. His music blends hillbilly, country, blues, and rock. He sings like he just spit out a wad of tobacco. His hillbilly twang tells me about mountain life, about the brutal work in the coal mines, cocaine, opioids, poverty, and unemployment. He’s carrying me along when BAM! The music shuts down.
     I get a message on the receiver: Caution, Speaker Protection Mode.
     What the…?
     I start 'er up again. I raise the volume above 5, and boom, the receiver shuts down. I check the manual. There is no manual. I go online to fetch it. I learn, after a little testing, one of my beloved JBLs is on the blink. The receiver has detected it and shuts down as a form of protection. Maybe it’s the wiring. I climb up on the shelves and check the speaker wires. I crank her up again and let the music rip. The same thing happens, again and again.
     I call the Denon guys. They tell me that only happens if my speakers, or one of them, are shot. Those speakers have been with me longer than the entire system. I follow their instruction and find the handicapped speaker. I disconnect the wire to the bad speaker and let the good speaker fly solo, like Polyphemus, one of Homer’s cyclopes.
     I let the Denon Bluetooth flail through a myriad of songs, like a real concert. But, after some time, I miss the companion speaker, the true surround sound stereo. What to do, repair the bad speaker or put it into hospice with the Kenwood receiver? Then what? I’m still left with Polyphemus.
     Maybe I’ll get back on FB and see what my friends think. Are there even places that repair old bookshelf speakers? I’ll need to research the new, hipper, designer speakers. So much work--and expense. Maybe I’ll find something at the segunda, bring back the old and take out the new, or is it the other way around?
     But, man, do those shiny new speakers up on the shelves at Best Buy look cool. I just don’t know if they’ll sound as full and rich as the viejo JBLs. Do I stay mired in the past, accept the future, or maybe blend the two together?