Zen and the art of receiver repair Part 1 (Digressions)
Recently, I had an epiphany that vintage amps/receivers were a thing, and that they were a thing for a reason. I don't know why I never really thought of it. I had a vintage amp and it was thirty-some years old. I just never thought it was vintage because I'm the person who bought it.
I decided to move my main stereo into the garage and put together a small bedroom stereo for the master bedroom. I didn't want something huge so I first started with a Class D amp and no matter what I did I could not get it to sound how I wanted. This is when that epiphany happened.
So started scouring FBM/Craigslist and ended up purchasing another NAD amp (my amp in the garage was a NAD 214) and was happy with the results. During this scouring, I was exposed to the vintage amps of the 70s and it was likely nostalgia (or the quest for something authentic) that lead to me looking into it in earnest. It became a quest for sound. How would an amp from this time period affect the sound of modern music? Would music from the seventies sound better on it? How would it compare to modern amplifiers and the NAD receivers/amps I already owned.
The first thing I realized is that if I wanted an affordable vintage amp, I was going to have to take chances. Meaning I would have to buy as is, otherwise a tested/fully serviced receiver was quite expensive. Also, half the fun is finding a receiver at a good price and hoping for the best. Hoping for the best in this case is fully working or its not too difficult to repair (difficulty is in the eye of the beholder).
The first receiver I purchased was a Toshiba SA-725 (circa 1978) and it was as is. I thought I was in luck because it appeared it just needed a new fuse. That was wholly incorrect and required a lot more (including some tricky soldering). So now I had a broken a receiver and it was up to me to troubleshoot/repair (or be out the money). Little did I know I was about to start a new hobby that has taught me that needing help is OK, that the experience is often worth more than the cost and that imperfect is fine/desired.
Needing Help
I recently had a cervical fusion and it has not been smooth (see previous posts). One of the outcomes (so far) are that my hands are very shaky and/or in pain (especially when trying to use fine motor skills). Outside of daily life (and work) this affected an already established hobby of fishing and this new hobby of repairing (and listening to) vintage receivers. For fishing, this meant tying a knot was more difficult but for receivers, it was a full stop. I could troubleshoot the devices and determine their issues but if soldering was required, it wasn't going to happen. I knew I would have to learn to solder (and I had no issue with that) but with shaky hands that wasn't going to be possible.
The plan originally was for my friend Dave to teach me how to solder but clearly that wasn't going to happen and so it shifted to Dave just doing the soldering while I did the diagnosing. At first, I felt bad about this. Like somehow I was taking advantage of the situation. This was my fools errand after all.
With some introspection, I realized that I didn't like the idea of help because it meant I wasn't capable. It wasn't that Dave was doing it for me, it was that even if I wanted to I couldn't. Further, these thoughts were keeping me out of the moment and I was failing to appreciate the experience.
Yes I needed help and yes, it was because I wasn't capable. But instead of looking at the negative, what did this actually afford me? What did I lose? What did I gain? And was the gain more than the loss? In the end I was gaining time with my friend that fulfilled both of us. Both are need to tinker and more importantly our need to connect.
I could have just said I can't do this and so this hobby isn't for me . I would have probably then bought an over priced serviced vintage receiver that I would like but not fully appreciate.
For example, Dave and I recently serviced a Sansui G-4500 and whenever I use it, I think of that experience. Which adds a special quality to it and somehow makes it sound better. In short, I appreciate it beyond its physicality and instead appreciate what it represents. A receiver simply purchased just wouldn't have this kind of impact.
Which is brings us to part 2: The experience is often worth more than the cost (forthcoming)
Photo by Daniel De Los Santos, Surf Side Texas