The Sound of Silence

A couple of weeks ago I did something I hadn't done in a quarter of a century, and to be honest never thought I would do again. I bought a vinyl LP, or "record" as we used to call them.

In my youth, that would have been an inconsequential event, certainly nothing worth writing about.  But in this case it was one small step in what became an unexpectedly complicated and time consuming process, but one that brought back many memories. 

It all began when I was reunited with the turntable I had bought some thirty years back.  It's a venerable Pioneer PL-518 direct drive unit, which still seems to command quite a decent price on eBay.  Direct drive turntables were revolutionary in their day; because the motor drives the platen directly, no belts were required and this in theory eliminated the speed fluctuation that could occur with a belt drive turntable, especially as the belt became worn. 

But there were problems.  The first was that I needed to replace the spring loaded feet, because the rubber housings that attached to feet to the underside of the deck and held the springs in place had torn.  Finding a solution required several hours of Internet research.  But in the process, the memories started to return; it's essential to ensure that a turntable is acoustically isolated from any vibration (hence the original spring loaded feet).  For a few dollars I was able to buy some silicone rubber feet designed for just this purpose ("Vibrapods", they're called) and attached them to the original feet to replicate the effect of the springs.  I have to admit, I was pretty pleased with myself.

So now I'm ready to rediscover the sound that music buffs (and I make no pretense to be one) claim is "warmer" that the digital recordings of today.  But then came the next, and rather fundamental, problem.  Although I have been reunited with my turntable, I still don't have my old vinyl collection back.  Rather than wait, I decided a trip to the Princeton Record Exchange was in order.  It's a local institution that specializes in used albums and CDs, and it's a great place to pick up used vinyls for a few dollars.  As I browsed the shelves, I noticed several things that hadn't struck me on prior visits.  First, the vast majority of people in the store were looking exclusively at the vinyl racks.  Second, among the well worn album covers was a decent selection of brand new items - new releases, re-releases - selling in many cases at a premium over the price of a CD.  There were some bargains though. I was able to pick up a new re-release of a Coltrane collection for only $10 and headed home to try it out.

But then I began to have  doubts.  I had no idea what condition the stylus was in.  It had last been replaced about 20 years ago, and I hesitated to risk my brand new LP on a bad stylus.  I decided it prudent to invest in a new one.  But further Internet research revealed that my cartridge (the housing into which the stylus fits, and which transforms the vibrations from the stylus into an electro-magnetic signal) had long since been discontinued.  I found a company in Japan that made a replacement, but it was expensive and I wasn't sure about the quality.  Reluctantly, I decided I would have to get a new cartridge.  Well, I say "reluctantly", but truth to tell I was starting to enjoy what had become a voyage of re-discovery.  And then my luck turned.  I found a website specializing in everything to do with LP technology.  They were offering a "special" on a Shure cartridge (the same brand as the old one); the cost, including stylus, was less than the price of the Japanese stylus.  In addition, it had something called  a "dynamic stabilizer".  I have no idea what that a dynamic stabilizer is - my old cartridge didn't have it - but it sounded pretty nifty.  How could I resist?

Because I didn't spring for the express shipping, it took over 2 weeks for the new cartridge to arrive, but it was worth the wait.  Beautifully packaged in a metal case, with its toolkit of miniature screwdriver and brush, it bespoke quality, craftsmanship, even  (ironically) high tech.  So I set about installing it.  I changed a good many cartridges in my youth, but in my youth my eyesight was much better and my hand a lot steadier.  Mounting the cartridge in the head shell with the tiny mounting screws and nuts took me a long while, but eventually it was done.  Then I noticed something in the box I had previously missed - a small rectangular piece of cardboard covered with grid lines and a hole in one end.  It was the "cartridge alignment protractor".  This was a new one on me, and I searched the instructions in vain for any reference to it.  Again, I turned to the Internet and ascertained that the "cartridge alignment protractor" is designed to help align the cartridge head precisely with the groove in the record.  It seemed close enough.

Having mounted the new cartridge I had to re-set the tracking weight to comply with the specifications for the cartridge - I remembered how to do that  - and the anti-skate force.  I switched the turntable on, and with the aid of the stroboscope (see pic) I adjusted the speed to exactly (OK, more or less) 33.3 RPM.  Finally the PL-518 was ready to resume service.

Attaching the turntable to my entertainment system was no easy matter - it involved moving the unit all of the equipment is mounted on to access the rear of the receiver and untangling the spaghetti-like cables that connect all the components together.  My amplifier/receiver isn't exactly new - 20 years old maybe, but still functioning perfectly - but even a unit of that vintage was built for the post-LP era and it doesn't have a "Phono" jack.  No problem, I thought.  There were a couple of empty inputs, so I connected the turntable to one of those.  I then carefully placed the LP on the platen, delicately lowered the stylus onto the LP, sat back and began to enjoy . . . silence.

The sense of disappointment was almost overwhelming. Then I began to think logically about it and more memories began to emerge from the mists of time.  I recalled that a turntable using a magnetic cartridge transmits a lower signal than a CD player, tape deck or other audio device.  A "Phono" input amplifies the signal to levels comparable to that of the other devices, but if you connect a turntable directly to a standard input the signal is virtually inaudible.  In order to use a non-amplified input I needed to get a "pre-amp".  After a consultation with my son, who happens to be a sound engineer and musician as well as a vinyl aficionado, I returned to the Internet to check out the available equipment.  I was momentarily disconcerted to find that some pre-amps cost upwards of $2,000, but I was able to find something that seems to do exactly what I want for the more modest sum of $30.   I placed the order.   And that's where the story ends, at least for now.  I am waiting for the pre-amp to arrive, but with every confidence that it is the final piece in the jigsaw.

But that really isn't the point of the article.  This process (on one of those TV reality shows, they would probably call it a "journey") made me wonder why they're still even making vinyl recordings.   Apparently sales of LPs are actually increasing, whereas CDs are declining.  I find this encouraging because it's is an entirely consumer-driven trend.  When did you last see an add on TV for vinyl LPs or turntables?  (Turntables are still made, of course, though surprisingly some manufacturers have reverted to belt-driven technology.)  So what is the enduring appeal?  Many will say that vinyls just sound better - warmer, and truer to the original.  For the same reason, the true "high end" amplifiers these days seem to be "tube amps", which most of us thought had be rendered obsolete by the transistor.

But I think in a perverse way the enduring appeal of the vinyl medium lies in part in its sheer inconvenience.

I made the transition to CDs at an early stage and for a good many years enjoyed their convenience and durability, as well as the greater dynamic range that digital music provides. But, let's face it:  at the end of the day CDs are also a real hassle.  First, to obtain a CD you have to schlep over to the record store and buy it, which could take an hour or more, and that's assuming they actually have it in stock.  Alternatively, you could order on line but then you have to wait for 3 days, maybe longer, to get it.  When you want to play it you have to locate the correct plastic case, hope the CD is actually in it (rather than in the entertainment system in the car or a different case), then bend down to put it in the player, which in my case is at ankle height.   It's just too much trouble.  I now keep all my music in digital form on my computer and when I want something new I download it from the iTunes store.  They have my credit card information on file - it couldn't be simpler.  With a couple of taps on my laptop keypad I can send music from any computer in the house streaming wirelessly to my stereo system.  If I can't be bothered to think about which songs to play or in what order, no problem; the Mac will decide for me.  And if I can't be bothered to walk across the room to get my computer, I can open the app on my iPhone and accomplish the same thing.  Yes, it's all so easy; maybe too easy.  We tap the keyboard and forget about it.  Sometimes I don't even notice when the music has finished, or when Mac has moved on from Bowie to Beethoven.

Vinyl technology engages the listener from start to finish;  placing records on the turntable; lowering the stylus, flipping the record at the end of Side 1 and making sure the tone arm retracts properly at the end.  The fragility of the vinyl form demands that it be handled with care, even reference.  We can take pleasure not only in the music itself but also in the artistry of the album cover, the detail of the liner notes; even the sight of the LP rotating slowly on the turntable.  For me, tinkering with my old turntable also brought back memories of events long ago; like those earnest late-night discussions about which speakers or cartridge produced the best sound; or searching the racks at the cramped back-street record shop in Cambridge that sold wonderful and hard to find Supraphon recordings from Czechoslovakia.

The worst - or was it maybe the best? - thing about the old-fashioned "stereo system", as we called it in those days, was that it was only as good as its weakest link, whether it was the turntable, the cartridge, the amp or the speakers.  There was always a piece that had to be upgraded (which in turn created a new weakest link).  So there was always a reason to stay in touch with the the new products. That was part of the fun. I certainly wasn't an expert in he technology,  but I grasped the concepts.  I enjoyed that part of it.  But looking back, I realize that my interest in the technology ended with the purchase of my first CD player.  I never really figured out how shining a bright light at a plastic disk could produce sound, and the fact that it was all "digital" led me to conclude that a CD player was a CD player - period. It was much the same when I bought my first digital camera.

For those who want the convenience of digital music, downloads are the way to go.  MP3 is a better medium for storing digital music and if you ever need to have it on a disk, you can always "burn" one from the computer.  The medium really at risk is the CD.   My layman's prediction is that vinyl will live on, as a niche market for audiophiles and those who just appreciate all the "stuff" that goes with it, long after the last commercial CD has been pressed.  Twenty five years ago, who could ever have imagined it?