“If it is too loud, you are too old.”
That line has been shouted by more than a few rock musicians over the years, and I have seen it splashed across plenty of black concert T-shirts. It is most often credited to the Motor City Madman himself, Ted Nugent.
Well, Ted, it is too loud, and I am too old.
It was not always that way. There was a time when the volume knob on my stereo simply did not turn far enough. Every song sounded better louder. At least I thought so. I suspect the neighbors at my childhood home had a slightly different opinion.
Back then, my teenage buddies and I could spend hours flipping through the pages of Crutchfield catalogs, drooling over receivers, equalizers, dual cassette decks and, eventually, CD players. There was no Amazon app to scroll through and no next-day delivery. Even if there had been, I doubt we would have used it. Stereo shopping was an experience.
The best part was visiting an electronics store where you could actually hear the equipment. Walking into one of those showrooms was like entering the promised land. Rows of gleaming components. Towering speakers. Buttons, switches and flashing lights everywhere. It was impossible not to imagine how much better your favorite cassette tapes would sound through gear you absolutely could not afford.
Each of us had our favorite brand. Some swore by Yamaha. Others insisted Sony was king. I was firmly in the Pioneer camp. We could not afford the truly high-end equipment, but we also were not about to settle for something from Radio Shack. We had standards, after all.
My speakers were roughly the size of coffee tables. They featured woofers, midrange drivers and tweeters that could rattle the windows without much effort. They sounded fantastic until one of the woofers finally gave up. After that, every song sounded as if it were being performed through a kazoo and a paper towel tube.
I also cranked up my Sony Walkman whenever I went for a run. Def Leppard was practically a performance-enhancing drug. The louder the music, the faster my legs moved — or at least the less I noticed my lungs begging for mercy.
That Walkman eventually died, but my Pioneer stereo survived move after move before my wife convinced me it was time to sell it at a garage sale. I hope whoever bought it occasionally gives the volume knob a healthy twist in my honor.
These days, I am more likely to spin a classic vinyl record or ask Alexa to play my favorite songs. Somewhere along the way, I discovered that music really can be too loud.
Of course, I still know every word to those old rock songs. I just prefer hearing them without my ears ringing for the next two days.
Have a fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading.
Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707