Long ago, when I was readying for college, I drove to an audio store in Connecticut and bought a pair of good compact speakers to take with me. For some reason, at that time, when we needed to shop for music or audio gear, we went across the border to Danbury or Bridgeport to these huge locally owned superstores and haggled with salesmen on the floor. I picked up a pair of Baby Advents for $150, which was big money at the time. They served me well through college, following me from apartment to apartment and house to house. Now the foam on the driver cones has disintegrated and the speakers sound like shit.
I did a little looking online and found other folks have been having the same problems; there’s a repair kit on Ebay for my very speakers for $15. I also looked around to see if there are replacement drivers available. Apparently the OEM drivers are 6ohm, which is very unusual (most home speakers are 8ohm, while car speakers are generally 4ohm) but there are affordable 6.5″ 8ohm replacements available.
I think before I bite the bullet and buy new drivers, I’m going to give the foam replacement a shot and see how it works out. I’m also considering using a little of my vacation time to rebuild the boxes on my homemade speakers in the basement—but now that I’ve seen the Parts Express site, I’m thinking about designing a new set of smaller speakers for the living room. Hmmmm….
File this under IT’S ABOUT GODDAMN TIME: Flickr has introduced their new iPhone App. It’s much easier to see your friends’ photos, take and upload your own photos, integrate with Twitter and Facebook, and apply filters (if you so desire).
I had the pleasure of riding in a coworker’s Hyundai this afternoon on a trip to D.C. Her car is tricked out with all the modern amenities, including a nav system, Bluetooth connectivity, heated leather seats, and a backup camera. While I’d never buy a Hyundai myself (too many memories of first generation models in the repo lot with paper-tin sheet metal and medieval engineering) I was impressed by the integration of technology in this one. Maybe in ten years when I’m shopping for my next car, I’ll graduate up to the whiz-bang model like she has.
This looks like it would have been an awesome (if not ear-splitting) show: Dinosaur Jr. and many guests celebrated 'You're Living All Over Me' at Terminal 5. Just hearing that album front to back would have been awesome, but the guest list is amazing: Frank Black, Lee Ranaldo, Johnny Marr, Dale Crover…wow.
This represents what I’ve been up to for the past five days or so. Long nights, little sleep, and lots of coffee.
Monday I spent the morning at the Baltimore County courthouse as a witness against the fellow who broke into the Honda and stole my iPod. The subpoena said 8:30 so I got there on time, but then realized half the shit in my backpack would set every alarm in the building off, so I had to run back and empty it in my trunk. (in hindsight, I should have just left the whole thing there). The courtrooms have as much personality as a sheet of drywall. Apart from the judge’s perch, hard wooden pew-like benches, and all-weather carpeting, there is nothing else to look at; no windows, artwork, or embellishment. I sat and waited through a dozen or so cases: A father of three had been in jail for 40 days for stealing four newspapers. A kid from Essex was popped for driving on a suspended license for the fourth time. A confused man who spoke no english listened as the proceedings went on around him. As far as I could gather, he had touched a 15-year-old girl inappropriately. He muttered to the DA through an interpreter as the girl and her family glared at him from the far side of the room.
I spent the first half hour wondering which of the rough-looking gentlemen they brought in would be my nemesis. It turned out it was none of them; I had to wait until the third batch filed in sullenly before he was called. It turned out he is a schizophrenic who hasn’t had a job in twelve years, who lives with his mother, and who has a rap sheet longer than my arm. The judge patiently listened to the case, was made aware there was a witness in the room, and then offered him a choice: three years in prison or admittance to a program for mentally ill recidivists. While I wasn’t happy the guy had stolen stuff from my neighbors, I was glad they didn’t just throw him in the clink and forget about him. I hope he and his mother get some help.
Wow. is it ten years already? The Story of Interpol's Turn on the Bright Lights.