Watt Do I Know? Memories of My First Stereo System

Not the system in question.

THE PICKLED PRIEST'S FIRST STEREO SYSTEM:

A TRIBUTE

My first stereo system consisted of the following components:

One Sherwood S-9600CP Stereo Receiver

One Scott PS 68 Direct Drive Turntable

Two JBL L56 Speakers

That’s it.

People in the know had equalizers, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t have known what to do with one anyway. Even now, it’s doubtful. I am not an audiophile, nor do I aspire to be, despite having multiple thousands of albums in my collection and a pretty damn good sound system, too. You’d think I might've caught the bug by now, but that never happened. I’ve significantly upgraded everything since I acquired my first system, of course, but I will always have a fondness for this specific set of components. Do you remember yours? Did you buy it, inherit it, steal it, thrift it? I remember the buying process for my first audio adventure like it was yesterday, in the same way a major leaguer might remember their first base hit or the way a teenage boy or girl might remember finally getting to first base. Things that mean something to you will live on in your brain for all eternity.

Back in high school, there was a decent amount of chatter around stereo systems. Everyone had a physical collection of music, all of it on vinyl or cassette, so you needed something to play them on, not just a streaming subscription, a phone, and some ear buds. Hence, a good sound system was somewhat of a status symbol back then. Loud music was everything in high school (and still is for me). I remember wattage being crucially important back then and any time someone spoke of buying a new receiver or speakers, the immediate response would be, “How many watts per channel?” Pumping wattage into your cottage was the end goal and the only goal. It was amazing how some dude’s excitement about their new system could be undercut after realizing he went with a disappointingly low wattage level. And no level of wattage was enough either. The most important part of belittling someone else’s new stereo was to have a story (true or not) about someone you know with a system twice the wattage of the one being discussed. That said, I did actually know a guy who ran his stereo through his guitar amp and it was friggin’ LOUD! It would blow your ears clean off if you stood directly in front of it. See what I mean? I got you, didn't I? In short, wattage mattered. If it didn’t, why would we all lie about it?       

When I walked out of Musicraft, the best neighborhood stereo store around, with my new stereo I remember being proud to join the “Component Club,” an elite group of music lovers who had graduated from those cheap “all-in-one” systems they sold at Sears, Wards, or Service Merchandise. Cheap plastic systems were for amateurs. This was the big time. Finally, my musical obsession had a worthy playmate. I would end up spending more time with this stereo system than any high school friend. It provided me everything a major introvert needed to exist happily for pretty much forever.

Ironically, I bought my new receiver without checking the wattage (50w, it turns out). I got caught up in the process, was intimidated, and lost track of what questions I was supposed to ask. A rookie mistake. In fact, the whole trip was a rookie mistake in retrospect. I got sold a system well above my budget by a skeevy sales guy who employed every trick in the book to influence my buying decisions. His recommendations weren't wrong, but he clearly knew a sucker when he saw one walk through the front door. And as a teenager, walking through the front door of a stereo store was the equivalent of a five-year-old walking through the gates at Disneyland. Fucking overwhelming, but also the most glorious spectacle imaginable. When faced with so many potential options, keeping your wherewithal is nearly impossible. The shark, sensing chum in the water, approached his prey with a hungry smile on his face.

First up, the receiver. The stereo's central nervous system. He showed me several similar-looking models, but ended the tour (by design, I'm sure) at a brand-new Sherwood model with a modern, bright blue digital readout. I knew I wanted it badly from the moment I saw it. It appealed to me in every way possible. It had a large, round tuning wheel that while heavy, seemed to rotate effortlessly with all the resistance of an air hockey puck. Another cool design feature was an ergonomic dimple in the tuning wheel, a perfect fit for an index finger or thumb, that would allow you to zip around the dial at warp speed. A thin row of buttons controlled its functionality and a series of smaller dials controlled its sound. I stood there entranced by the sleek look and feel of it even though I'd never heard the name Sherwood in my life prior to that moment. This was my receiver now and the salesman had a live one firmly on his hook. SOLD.

Next up, the turntable. I looked at a few others, but he recommended a new Scott model, which was a little pricey for me at the time. When I hemmed and hawed for a bit too long, he implemented the oldest sales tactic in the book. He walked me over to the shittiest turntable in the store, a generic used model with a faux wood-grain plinth that was half the price of the gleaming Scott on the other side of the room. He knew exactly what he was doing. He showed me something my dad might listen to his 78s on and I looked at it in horror. Looking back, I imagine him thinking to himself, "This is really too easy." In my head, these were my only two choices. My mom could see the disappointment on my face and said, “It’s your money.” Bless her heart. I walked over to the Scott (another brand I'd never heard of before), silently gazed at it for a while, and added it to my haul. From that point forward, I called it Scott for obvious reasons, as in "What should we play next, Scott?" A lasting relationship was born.

If you're wondering, I had money to spend on a new stereo because I had a summer job and was putting in about 40 hours a week at the time. Plus, I had zero dollars in my budget allocated to dating, so this investment was rock solid in my eyes. That said, I still didn’t want to spend all my earnings in one go. I needed some money leftover to buy records, too! Otherwise, what was the point? I did learn a valuable lesson that day, however: NEVER skimp on the turntable. You'll be happy you didn't. And this one was pretty cool, too, with an automatic eject button for the tonearm and an illuminated glass panel to ensure the speed was tracking properly (see below). I was young, so digital readouts and illuminated tracking lights captivated me in the same way the lights of New York City attract dreamers of all kinds.

Now for the hard part: speakers. Once again, Mr. Shifty takes me to the cleaners by luring me into spending more than I wanted to. He pushed a pair of JBL speakers that would again cost some serious coin for a young teen. Maybe he assumed my mom was buying it for me. I knew next to nothing about speakers and he sensed that right away. I didn't know what to ask or anything, so he put on some rock music and told me to walk back and forth in front of them for a few passes. I did as instructed, but I had no idea what I was supposed to be listening for specifically. “Do you hear how the music seems to follow you around as you walk?” he said. I didn’t know what he was talking about, so I said, “Yeah, that’s pretty cool” (or something close to that). I was literally buying everything he was selling. A walk in the park for him, a walk around a couple JBL speakers for me. When I hesitated, he added, “These are the [forms his fingers into an awkward Mercedes-Benz logo] of speakers.” The best you can get in other words; precision German engineering, but made in China for an American company. Not a whiff of Germany anywhere in the supply chain actually. That he came nowhere close to forming the actual logo—his fingers weren’t that dexterous—was irrelevant. I got the point. In for a penny, in for a pound as they say and I bought the speakers, too. The system as I envisioned it, albeit substantially more expensive, was now complete.

They're following you.

I finally had my own stereo. I wasn’t anywhere near as excited when I bought my first car or my first house. This was everything to me at the time and my mom was about to write a check for the whole bounty (she put my earnings in her account since I didn’t have my own yet). In moments, it would be on its way to its adopted home. But not before one of my fondest memories of my (late) mother played out at the sales counter.

Pretty effective ad copy, imho.

Upon hearing the unfortunate news that we’d be paying with a personal check, the salesman seemed a little nonplussed. It was an arduous process and he knew it. First, they took a photo of my mom against a blank wall, then they verified her driver's license number and home phone (standard in those days). After that, of all things, they needed a fingerprint, just like they do when they book you into central holding at the county jail. At the mere suggestion of this, my mom, normally civil and controlled, snapped back, “Do you need a urine sample, too?” The salesman, for once in the entire process, seemed at a loss for words. As was I. Where did this snark come from? It was totally new to me, but I was secretly delighted. I didn't want my transaction to break down either, so I kept my reaction on the down low. I’d never heard my mom say anything close to that in public in my entire life. And, I must say, her timing was impeccable. A real comedic pro. Only when she looked up smiling did we all breathe a sigh of relief. She got off a good one that day and I’ll never forget it as long as I live. When we finally finished the purchase, which seemed to take longer than closing on a house, we got assistance loading it in our car and I was off to set it up.  

Postscript: I must say, decades later, I wish I had kept that Sherwood receiver. I absolutely loved it. It was stainless steel, sleek, modern, and beautiful to me and I shouldn’t have parted with it. I have since found the exact model on eBay for about $150 bucks, but it just wouldn't be the same. The Scott turntable also worked out fine, although it seemed like the signal it was sending to the receiver was a bit weak and I didn't know why (I didn't know what a preamp was, either). Then, one day in my college dorm I noticed the cartridge looked loose, so I snapped it back in tight and dropped the needle on a record. The sound was almost twice as loud as before! I had been listening to it for over a year not connected properly. It’s embarrassing to admit, but we’re friends now, right? You won't judge me. The speakers were the most durable items I purchased that day. Those babies could really take some abuse and they handled loud music with gusto, which I took advantage of as often as possible. They soon became our central fraternity house speakers for parties and such and they put in some serious overtime for several years. I soon blew out a cone or two and they were never quite the same after that. They died valiantly in the line of duty (and spilled beer) and I thank them for their service.

As I sit here now fondly reminiscing about that stereo, I'd kill to put one more record on and let it blast. I wonder what I'd think of the sound quality now after gaining much more experience. I imagine I'd be a little disappointed. But back then, I was on cloud nine, playing my records all night long in my basement bedroom as if it were my religion.

______________________

Don't skimp on sound, my friends. But don't be stupid either. It's a fine line.

Cheers,

The Priest