December 7, 2011

  • Primare PRE30, Part 5

    Before I continue covering the Primare PRE30, I have a story to tell.  So let us go back 30 years, to late 1981.  One day after school, and perhaps after dinner, my family took me and my brother to the Record Factory, then located on Geary and Parker.  It was dark outside, which kind of matched the black album cover of The Police's Ghost In The Machine.  I kept staring at the modified segmented numeric display, meant to represent the three members of The Police.  My parents bought the LP for me. 

    When I got home, I kept playing "Spirits In The Material World" over and over again.  To this day, that is one of my all-time favorite songs.  While Ghost In The Machine is kind of an uneven album, its highlights do include "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic," "Invisible Sun," and "Too Much Information."

    Fast forward to 1994.  Ultimate Sound had moved out of the Sherman Clay Building basement, and into the second floor of 41 Grant Street.  Back then, people were juuuuuuuuuuuust getting into e-mail.  We had dial-up accounts, and frequently had to resort to AOL, in order to access the internet.  Via Ultimate Sound, I met a not-quite-elderly Japanese gentleman, who lived in the Berkeley hills.  I didn't have a car, then.  So I called my friend Margaret, who was attending UC Berkeley.

    One foggy Saturday morning, I took BART to Berkeley, and went over to Margaret's apartment.  I had some CDs with me, including The Police's compilation, Every Breath You Take: The Singles, which included "Spirits In The Material World."  We grabbed lunch near campus, then headed for the audiophile's house.  Remember, those were the days before Google Maps, so we did it old school, by using paper maps.  Anyway, I never remembered what the guy's name was, so I'll simply refer to him as "Mr. Yoshida."

    When we got to Mr. Yoshida's house, Margaret introduced herself as my girlfriend, which was weird, because, well, she wasn't.  Still, I liked it, and didn't argue with it   Regardless of what he thought of me and Margaret as a couple, Mr. Yoshida was probably sighing to himself, "Kids these days."  He let us in, and I noticed that he had hung pictures on the wall.  Those pictures included calligraphy and Kabuki-style characters.  I'm pretty sure that Mr. Yoshida caught Margaret enjoying and looking at a painting of a Meiji-era couple engaged in love-making.  Mr. Yoshida also had small sculptures here and there.  His living room windows faced the backyards.  His was nicely taken care of, whereas his neighbor's looked like wilderness.  Had the living room window faced west, Mr. Yoshida could have had a view of the Bay.  The room was typical of the Bay Area, roughly the same square footage as my parents' 15x15 living room.  And like my own home, Mr. Yoshida's was filled with seats, bookcases, pillows, lamps, and music.  I raised my eyebrows, when I noticed that his stereo consisted of physically small units.  For the life of me, I can't remember what they were.  But I do know that they were NOT from 47 Labs.  Maybe it was Micromega gear. 

    He was kind enough to let me and Margaret play my CDs.  She and I gayly danced to "Spirits In The Material World."  I swear, Mr. Yoshida had that Zen-like calm, but underneath, he was probably rolling his eyes at how immature and unrefined Margaret and I were.  And that's when he started to school us.  He put on some new-agey music.  Did he blast it, like at audio shows?  No.  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and advised, "Now, we listen."  Did he lock his head in a vise-like grip?  No.  He was relaxed, and his head swayed to the music.

    With the artwork around the house, it hit me.  While we common audiophiles treat music as its own entity, Mr. Yoshida understood that music is part of life and the arts.  So now you know why I keep telling you about the music I listen to, its history, and how it moves me.

    Man, I don't recall what speakers Mr. Yoshida had.  They were just kind of nondescript bookshelf jobbies, probably 14-16" tall.  Despite being placed close to walls, the speakers did not boom or otherwise overload the room.  As The Police's "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic" was on, Margaret and I found ourselves tapping each other to the beat. I think she used my thigh as a "keyboard."  Well, Mr. Yoshida's little system certainly had rhythm!

    The three of us [I neglected to ask Mr. Yoshida if he had immediate family, though I assumed from the photos that he had two adult offspring] had an early dinner at a nice Japanese restaurant.  Margaret made one of her off-hand flippant remarks about the cups being "irregular."  Mr. Yoshida corrected, "These are hand-made ceramic cups, very nice." 

    While Margaret and I wolfed down our teriyaki dinners, Mr. Yoshida ordered the omakase (chef's choice) sushi.  He slowly savored every bite.  Heck, he even savored the tea.  He even liked and appreciated the lacquered bowl.  I think Margaret insulted him by calling his meal a "bento box."  But the ever graceful Mr. Yoshida turned the other cheek, and let it slide.

    That particular trip to Berkeley was a life-altering event for me.  It all came together: BART, Margaret, gardens, art, love, sex, ceramics, lacquer, music, hi-fi, manners, fine dining [on other visits to Berkeley, I would go with Margaret to the Amoeba and Rasputin record stores].  Margaret continued to be a mile-a-minute, but I slowed down, and tried to enjoy life more.  And that is why, where possible, I take my time in investigating an audio product. 

    Hardly anyone flips a component over, and shows its underside.  IIRC, Mr. Yoshida had a beautiful throw rug, under a glass-topped coffee table.  It's not the same as a throw rug, but here is the Primare PRE30's bottom.  Note that it has three feet.  For those of you who like to use after-market footers, take note of the PRE30's feet positions.  They are the same as those on the CD31.  They have a textured rubber pad, which adheres nicely to shelves.

    Just like the CD31, the PRE30's on/off power switch is located under the unit.  I can just imagine Margaret cracking jokes about reaching under, to find an on/off switch.  In real life, your PRE30 will be sitting on a shelf.  You will have to reach under the front left side, and feel for the power switch.  I do have a couple audiophile friends, who complain that their "fat fingers" have a difficult time reaching under the Primare gear.