Imagine, for a moment, a physicist’s daydream in the early 1920s. Surrounded by the era’s gramophones, with their hefty mechanics and resonant horns, our physicist …
The air in the control room was thick with concentration, smelling faintly of warm electronics and stale coffee. It was 1995. On the other side …
There’s a nervous tic that any sound recordist over a certain age will recognize. It’s the ghost of a finger, twitching to ride a fader …
I remember the heft. The sheer, unapologetic weight of a 1980s boombox on my shoulder, a mountain of eight D-cell batteries rattling inside like captured …