Here is a two-minute video clip of me running through the Caprice, the objectives, a quick ride through the Westchester countryside…
Thank you to The Collectors Car Garage in Bedford Hills, NY for the use of their beautiful space for this shoot…
Here is a two-minute video clip of me running through the Caprice, the objectives, a quick ride through the Westchester countryside…
Thank you to The Collectors Car Garage in Bedford Hills, NY for the use of their beautiful space for this shoot…
The band Boston’s self-titled debut LP from 1976 ranks as the second best-selling debut album in U.S. history (after Guns N’ Roses’ Appetite for Destruction) with over 17 million copies sold according to Wikipedia. Yet despite this historical achievement, the record did not make Rolling Stone’s top 500.
Sure, lots of garbage pop music has generated inflated sales numbers in the past, however with Boston this is simply not the case. I’ll agree that the songs don’t speak of world peace or make deep Shakespearian references, however the sound of that record heavily influenced future artists and producers because of its end-to-end polish, magnetic song arrangements—every track on the LP was compelling. Engineer/guitarist Tom Scholz created his own guitar processing technology that was used throughout the record—and even marketed that technology in a portable device called the Rockman.
And furthermore—every performance on that album is stellar. From the insanely perfect lead vocal performances (and harmonies) of Brad Delp (RIP), to the beautifully played B3 organ parts, the song arrangements, sonic quality and the fervor with which this record was embraced upon its release—in my view it should have made any sensible list of top 500 rock recordings.
No question some folks burned out from over exposure as the LP went from being played all the time as a hit to being played all the time as a classic and it has been unquestionably difficult to escape Boston on the airwaves. But approached with a fresh outlook, there is no arguing the gloriousness of that record.
Some time ago, I acquired a CBS ½ speed master LP version of Boston’s debut (see blue label at top of image), and it is just a rich, dynamic version, although these LP’s can get pricey—I have seen them sell for between $50 and $100. But they are a less noisy and more realistic representation of the recording. I played the LP at home, burning a copy to CD so I could listen in the Caprice. It knocks you dead—what a killer record.
I always tell people that all I miss being gluten-free is New Haven pizza. There are enough breads, muffins, cookies—my friend Nancy just made a killer ice cream cake using crushed GF cookies and York Peppermint Patties. I am not suffering…but for the most part, GF pizza is awful. Being in New York City frequently for work, I did a little Internet research and discovered a joint called Pala Pizza on the edge of Soho (Allen and Houston streets). My first trip there was after a long day of work, it was raining and they set me up outside under an awning—I love the atmosphere of a rainstorm from a dry seat. The service was outstanding, cheerful, welcoming. The menu was creative and catered to the gluten-free, vegetarians, and traditional carnivorous wheat-eaters as well. The GF crust is homemade and totally amazing—best I have ever had by a long shot.
So after recently seeing The Heights (a matinee) with the family on Broadway, I headed back. Round two at Pala Pizza was as wonderful or better than my first trip. I had chopped leaks and Italian sausage on my GF pie. The service was again outstanding—now I need to be careful not to get in there too frequently and put on serious pounds. If you are in lower Manhattan and want outstanding pizza (traditional or gluten-free), Pala Pizza is a winner.
Suddenly I find myself with VIP’s coming to audition some brand new THIEL speakers at my home, so I called upon Kathy, my dear friend and neighbor, for advice on catering a light lunch. Kathy hooked me up with an authentic Italian specialty shop called Liuzzi’s in North Haven, CT. I bought glorious meats, cheeses, bread, olives, peppers, fresh bread and made up a nice spread.
Stereophile Magazine is one of several respected, well crafted publications covering the always passionate hobby of high-performance audio and musical recordings. Based in Manhattan, I invited them up I-95 to my home in Connecticut to hear THIEL’s new SCS4T’s and thanks to Bryston, some wonderful electronics. Both Stephen Mejias and John Atkinson spent about 4 hours listening (we ate too) and the experience was (from my perspective at least), what the hobby is all about. I played a vast mix of styles, some older, some more modern. Stephen’s blog post on our afternoon pretty well sums it up here: My additional comments follow:
Both Surf’s Up and Holland are two of the most interesting, beautiful and unusual LP’s. They mix a sense of “Flower Power” mentality with fearless song craftsmanship ideas and stupendous harmonies. I happen to adore the recording style of the day; to me they sound so organic, so unedited. Music made by humans. And they highlight the very real contributions that The Beach Boys made to popular music from a slightly different angle than the legendary LP, Pet Sounds.
Another point: Listening to music that moves you on powerful, accurate and dynamic equipment never fails…it is an entirely different experience than using my MP3 player and noise-cancelling headphones to drown out jet engines and crying infants on transatlantic junkets.
If you want to explore an innovative and gifted jazz guitarist, check out Tony Purrone.
I am reminded by all of this how fortunate I am to be part of the high-performance audio community, and to have a career based on promoting the art of music and great sound…things that I love. There are often juicy debates: This gear is better than that, this singer is better than three others, and so on. In truth, its all about what reaches you, its deeply personal. The THIEL speakers and Bryston CD player, preamp, and amplifier made beautiful music that day for my guests and I am eternally grateful to have enjoyed our time together.
A recent business trip to beautiful Lexington, Kentucky had me hopping from Connecticut’s Bradley Field to Baltimore and then Louisville, where I rented an anemic but reliable Nissan Versa and zipped the 70 miles to Lexington—it worked out to be the most efficient plan based on schedule and airfares. The key to effortlessly stowing a carry-on bag with Southwest is to invest in EarlyBird check-in so that you can be assured of overhead bin space.
Traveling music for me is all about the mood and head space of the moment. Currently, I use an iPod classic and transfer my music to iTunes in Apple Lossless. Certainly adequate resolution for travel and when combined with my mid-fi Bose noise cancelling headphones, it gives me respite from any unsettled ankle-biters howling at their guardians for more chocolate milk.
One record I had on my listening agenda was Jamie Cullum’s The Pursuit. I had caught pieces of a few tracks on satellite radio and decided to buy the CD. I like this kid—I have no idea how old he is, but he seems youthful. As a pianist, I appreciate his tasteful and stylish blend of magnetic pop songs with bursts of Connick Jr.-like flare. The CD opens with a track called Just One of Those Things, a jazz/pop number in which you can hear the glee—this guy is just so happy to be making records. The band, the horns, this is a throwback that could have been yanked from just about any era of popular music.
Tracks 2 and 3 are great pop songs with sprinklings of intriguing melodies and delicious piano ornamentation. There is a breakdown and the second track (I’m All Over It Now) where the vocal hook alternates with some honky tonk riffs that add levity and attitude (sneer) to the music that I wholeheartedly appreciate. The third track (Wheels) is one that I heard in the car and motivated me to buy the disc. It is a simple pop song with all kinds of subtle layers and a great hook. During the verses, the bass line (in B) is root-5th, root-6th, root-7th and back to root-6th underneath Cullum’s totally tasty piano work. When the bass player hits the 7th (A-sharp in this case) the piano matches it two octaves higher as part of a riff that is repeated over and over, the combination of tones produces a warm, fat, happy, rich foundation for the verse vocal. Cullum comes across to me as an intelligent composer and lyricist with style. Really good record, and one which I will certainly explore on a better playback system!!
One little dose of Brian Wilson before the trip lands me back in Connecticut. There is a track from the Imagination CD called Cry—I love the huge Brian Wilson harmonies and clever chord changes, but there are two moments in the song that slay me: The first is simply the bass line in the choruses—the opening chord is C-minor, followed by a G 7th with a huge low F in the bass that resolves back to C-minor inverted (with an G in the bottom). I just love that!! The song’s second moment comes about two minutes into the song where three-part harmonies singing “ah” paint four consecutive chords, with the first being C-major and the second being C-minor. It just strikes me as so powerful to take a major triad and drop the third to go minor with human voices. The third chord is B-flat major and the final chord is back to the C-minor, all over a pedal C bass. Wilson’s roots are in religious music and this moment is all about hymns and choirs. Beautiful.
I did actually work—the trip was productive and generally positive. Lexington, KY is stunning in spring and I am blessed to be surrounded by wonderful, smart people in my professional life. Nothing like getting home though… footnote: My return flight included a bird strike to the nose of the 737 on climb out of Baltimore, just above the windscreen. We returned to BWI for inspection and were cleared to resume the flight.
My Father is hangin it up after teaching musicology at Boston University for 46 years—let’s just say I grew up surrounded by an eclectic group of people. So as he prepares to vacate his digs on Commonwealth Ave, they asked him to make a presentation about a German composer from the Romantic Period (mid to late 19th century) named Johannes Brahms prior to a Brahms performance by the BU orchestra and chorus at Boston Symphony Hall.
The venue makes it a bigger deal, so we drove up from Connecticut, dropped my aunt with the folks, and zagged like Barry Sanders from Burlington, through Lexington, into Arlington Heights, to Belmont, onto Route 2, into Fresh Pond, past the Buckingham Browne & Nichols School and onto Storrow Drive to Boston. I had us down there way early because one: it was a beautiful day and two: Sox/Yankees was happening at Fenway Park less than a mile from Symphony Hall—I wanted no part of that mayhem. I got lucky and found a metered spot by the Cheesecake Factory on the backside of Copley Square. We grabbed dinner (salads, guacamole, grilled eggplant sandwich) and had a three minute walk to the Symphony.
Professor Joel Sheveloff is no small man. The Big Guy’s got a knack for public speaking, and he was presented with a bound book of comments and well wishes from colleagues and students past and present upon introduction on the big stage. He spoke for half and hour about Brahms and how he was perceived around the world and how people were slowly starting to appreciate his great works. All well said with some pointed humor mixed in.
I was sitting with family and friends—people I have known since the 1960’s. We had seats in front and whether you appreciate classical music or not, hearing a full orchestra in a great building like that is a privilege. Conductor is center stage, violins right and left, cellos center just aft of the conductor, with brass toward the back and timpani and harps back/right and double bass/back left with the bassoons. The chorus was standing up against the back wall of the stage on risers.
It is striking to hear the instruments interact within the space and how intricate the overall arrangement is (called orchestration). I was most taken by how physically demanding the playing is—and how monstrous a role the cellos played as the music unfolded. You just can’t possibly take this all in from any recording—to watch the players concentrate as they observe their master (the conductor), and execute complex parts at both loud and soft and VERY soft volumes. Totally amazing.
The cellists bow their instruments, they play staccato notes, and they stop and start in minute amounts of time. It seems almost not possible. And the violins to the right play different parts than the violins on the left—the imagery from all of that is quite something.
Then there were the voices. When the orchestra backs off the throttle just a bit to allow the singers command of the melody, and then things build and both the orchestra and the chorus swell larger and larger—and this is all without any Fender amps—and then back to a hush in an instant so the violins or the woodwinds have their moment…Hearing acoustic live music gives one the ultimate perspective. It all seems miles away from corporate pop and Milli Vanilli.
One more point about the Red Sox—I vowed to focus on the positive in this humble scrawl, but if I may just vent a little mild frustration: I strongly dislike Sweet Caroline—the infantile, dull nature of that plodding ditty and its apparent reverence at hallowed Fenway Park (and other places) makes me cringe. Maybe Neil Diamond is a nice guy, I have no idea. But that song sucks!
After a Saturday morning trip in the Subaru wagon with my trash barrel to the dump, I took a little road trip in the Caprice that started out auspiciously with a speeding ticket. It was way too beautiful a day to let a little infraction spoil the fun, so my daughter and I resumed our journey to the Waterbury-Oxford Airport. This is a tiny little strip with a cool restaurant on one side and just a great little spot to watch planes about the size of the Caprice doing touch-and-go’s.
On the trip out, we rocked a little Weezer—Ilana had heard the band on Guitar Hero and she also thought the song Buddy Holly sounded familiar. Weezer fascinates me. They have a unique blend of gentle pop flavors mixed into hard alternative gritty noise that keeps my interest. I don’t absorb their songs as if they were nutrients for my creative side, but I am always interested to hear what they’re up to…and I admire their ability to be different. I guess when you add it up, I like Weezer. They remind me a little of a talented band from my home town called The Bags.
We rolled up to the airfield and took in the sunshine for a bit, watching student pilots and just hangin. No tunes, just a little peace and scenery on a beautiful day.
On the way back (trying to keep an interesting mix of music in my kid’s face); I cued up 1977’s Simple Dreams by Linda Ronstadt. This record is all over the place, and one thing I like about a great car stereo is the ability to maintain a high level of detail above the ambient noise of road and motor. We could follow the bass guitar and the tasty drumming through each track whether it was raucous or mellow. I was getting into it and at one point Ilana backed the volume down. That’s cool—dad was a little exuberant, maybe…
I like the whole Simple Dreams record (this was an LP from my collection burned to CD), but the popular tracks just crush: “It’s So easy,” “Blue Bayou,” “Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me,” and “Tumbling Dice.” As a collector of vinyl, I strongly recommend this record to anyone who likes great songs, great performances, and excellent production (Peter Asher). Featured tracks were composed by Warren Zevon, Jagger/Richards, Buddy Holly and Roy Orbison—that’s a pretty strong overall selection. The playing is believable and real, with dynamics and a range of tones from silky strings to biting electric guitar. Superb drums sounds, too.
We made it back to the Bat Cave without getting pulled over and I decided to celebrate by cooking up an egg-white omelet mixed with some leftover Beef Brisket. Lots of excitement for one Saturday!!
Boy, talk about the ultimate marriage of horsepower and great car audio—my first ride in Rich’s ’57 Chevy seemed mellow enough—I tucked under the leather wrapped roll bar and we pulled out of his shop and onto Dexter Ave. and stopped. The car was an outrageous black paint that was miles deep, purple flames on the fiberglass nose if you caught them at the right angle. The 900-plus HP blown 427 was idling like cows were kicking at the sides of the car, my torso strapped into the right leather bucket seat. As we sat warming the motor, Rich hit the command button on the lower right side of the Nakamichi TD-1200 and the archaic microprocessor (by today’s standards) did some pondering, some light flashing, and then ejected the tape drawer, revealing an empty slot for a cassette. Rich dropped a tape into the TD-1200, pushed the drawer back into place, and we waited…
This was about 1983—I was living in Boston playing music and working as a car stereo/alarm installer before migrating to Burlington, VT for three years. Rich’s Car Tunes had a legendary reputation for quality workmanship and delivering great sounding cars. The showpiece of the business (besides its charismatic owner) was the much customized ’57 Chevy. People came to the store from all over the place with absolutely no intention of buying anything—just to see and hear the ’57—and very often left shaking with excitement—and a new car audio system.
Back in the car on Dexter Ave.—this would be my very first exposure to the album “Holland” by The Beach Boys. Rich dialed up a long track called California Saga, which is to this day one of my most sacred demos. This is the record that brought us the single, Sail on Sailor. If you have never heard Holland, it is a treat. We sat still and took it in for awhile, and then Rich chugged the ’57 forward to the STOP sign at School St. From that point, most of my visual memory is a blur. Rich nailed the throttle, working hard to keep the car pointed straight ahead while working the car through the gears. The force of the motor shoved me back into the Recaro’s so hard that I couldn’t easily see where we were headed. Through all of this, the stereo gracefully presented Holland with impressive volume and clarity thanks to five of the original A/D/S Power Plate amplifiers, although under hard acceleration, all I could hear was the car.
We came up to the rear of some innocent motorist (really no such thing in greater Boston) and Rich glided up inches behind them, the 427 horrifically pounding away. Right up to the back bumper, waiting for daylight, into the oncoming lane to pass under hard throttle, back into the proper lane and off the gas. I caught glimpses of people looking at us from their porches, from their businesses, from inside other vehicles. There was no conversation, no friendly casual banter while Rich was driving—it took serious focus to move the car around this way and he was all business about it.
Just a quick note about the Nakamichi TD-1200. During the 1990’s when I had my store (Audio Coupe, Fairfield, CT), I had the occasion to take a working TD-1200 out of an Aston Martin. I was selling various high-end CD players at the time, and although the cassette medium was all but dead to consumers, I thought it would be fun to put the old Nakamichi on my display, almost like an antique. Well, that didn’t last long—everyone who saw it wanted to hear it, and the old TD-1200 so utterly and completely blew away the sound of every CD player I had at every price, I had to take it down in the interests of self preservation. It had an outstanding preamp section, and the tonal balance and extended, natural sounding low frequencies were reminiscent of high-end home audio. The TD-1200 looked nor sounded like any other car radio—it is simply the best ever.
Next, I remember pulling up alongside a Ground Round restaurant at a light (one of these places that fed you free salted pop corn to drive beer sales)—once green, Rich launched the ’57, compensating with the wheel to keep the car headed in the right direction. I saw people cheering and waving as the car hurtled past them. I was beginning to realize that the car was well known in these parts, the ’57 was the local “hot chick” and I was just along for one hell of a ride…
I remember it was the kind of sweltering day that only us kids could put up with. Sticky, hot, City-of-Boston summer Sunday. It must have been 1981 or 1982. At the age I am now, I’m sure I would have been hiding in the comfort of some air conditioned shelter. We pulled into “Southie”, over the little metal bridge behind South Station, hung a right onto a cobblestone street in an industrial neighborhood, and right again into The Channel parking Lot. The Blonde expertly wheeled her red Chevy wagon into a space and we hopped out. I always loved when she drove places (although I navigated). She had the aggressiveness and the skill of a cocky guy behind the wheel, yet she was charming, graceful and tomboyishly pretty. She was a great package.
I had lured The Blonde as my guest to the Channel club to see the Stompers that Sunday. I have no doubt that The Channel had fallen from the sky like Dorothy’s cabin and just landed amongst overgrown weeds and tossed beverage containers in a parking lot overlooking Boston Harbor. It had a certain charm about it though, especially for daytime shows where you could see just how precariously close the place was to collapsing into the water. Weathered pillars supported the entire structure, and they disappeared at odd angles into the harbor like weary old legs. Inside, The Channel was a big square room sectioned off with a few flimsy walls. The old wooden floorboards had grown dark over the years from heavy foot traffic marching through an ocean of spilled cocktails. There was a video game room, a little snack stand, and rows of beer taps and barstools everywhere. In the rear most corner was the great stage with its lights and speaker columns, and to its left was a cheesy dance floor made of translucent tile, glowing with colored “disco” lights mounted from below. The Channel hosted some great performers in its day (Roy Orbison’s final performance was on the Channel stage; and the club once appeared in an episode of Spenser for Hire). I played there numerous times with two different bands. It was a little filthy second home for me, and I felt very comfortable dragging my date from the calm of New Hampshire down Interstate 93 for a show.
The Stompers’ front man Sal Baglio was a slightly puffy, in your face type of performer. He had a wonderful rock’n roll demeanor complete with battered fender guitars and an excellent band. Sal would attack the microphone as he sang, passionately delivering his lines and hacking at his instrument. The piano player looked a little like Barry Manilow, and the drummer “Coooch” we called him, (RIP) was non-stop action. They wrote great story-telling pop songs and I could imagine the buzz that Sunday was not too unlike that of an early Southside Johnny performance at The Stone Pony. I don’t think The Blonde had ever seen anything like this before. A big city club on a hot Sunday and a band at their peak in the local scene. The Channel was loud and it literally shook when it rocked. I remember that we hung out and waited impatiently through the opening act, just being sweaty inside the dirty old club. I was very glad to be there and even happier she was with me. Nearing show time, I started herding her towards the stage to get a good spot in the standing room crowd.
Finally, after an eternity of faceless music through the house sound system, The Stompers shuffled on stage and took to their instruments. Sal was yelling right out of the gate, seemingly covered with sweat in an instant. My date and I were right in front of him, elbow to elbow with the world and staring upward at his energetic performance. Everyone loved the band because they wrote great American pop songs and they had that magical on-stage charisma. They put on a real show. The Stompers sound was Sal’s melodic voice and rhythmic guitar riffs, supported by smooth bass lines and the pounding of Cooch’s drums. They played crowd favorites like Shut Down Girl, You’re The One, and American Fun. I clearly remember my girl in front of me, hands on her shoulders bouncing up and down to the songs in unison with the crowd. The floor quaked as though The Channel would just tear loose of its moorings and be swallowed by the water around it. I felt completely content. I really liked this girl a lot, and I knew she was having a great time with me that day. There was a certain simplicity (I think they call it innocence) to romance back then, and I was enjoying it to the fullest at that moment.
I reflect back on that day sometimes, sadly aware of the passing of my own youth. That Sunday with The Blonde was about as good as it got. I can still hear it, smell it, and feel the heat of that day although the images are a bit faded after nearly thirty years. The experience serves as a reminder to me of just how powerful great live music is, and what an awesome role it played in my life as I was growing up. I now fully appreciate how blessed I was to have had numerous colorful episodes like this one make up the fabric of my younger years. I treasure them all, and the excitement and mayhem I lived through with my close friends. There was just something extra special about that girl, that band, on that Sunday afternoon. Lucky me!!
With the torrential winds and rain having moved out of the area and several days of sunshine in the forecast, I decided to yank the bulky Caprice out of storage and burn unreasonable quantities of fossil fuel. Every year it amazes me—I use my rubber-insulated Snap-on wrench to reconnect the negative cable to the battery and the car fires right up. I let it run for awhile and then head out to the dairy farm.
So to be clear, the music system in this car was originally built in 1996 when I acquired the vehicle. Installer extraordinaire Jason Venne integrated an Alpine CD tuner from the mid-1990’s that was made specifically to physically fit in place of General Motors OEM (original equipment manufacturer) radios. My car made that chore difficult because the heater controls are integrated in to the same faux-wood plastic panel, but Venne showed why he is The King and made it work beautifully.
Now there were other rules of engagement regarding this system build—I bought this car because I liked its almost laughably antiquated interior design, including Art Deco-like door panels with plastic trim and crank window handles. So all loudspeakers had to be integrated into their factory locations. I didn’t want any “new holes” in the car. I happen to have always liked dashboard speaker locations sonically—This car had OEM 4X6 ovals in front, 6X9 ovals under the rear parcel shelf. Venne set up back of the car for an infinite baffle subwoofer (another technique I favored when I had my facility) including carefully applied heat-activated sound deadening material called V-BLOK.
Fast forward (from 1996) to present—I decided to remove the infinite baffle woofers and have old friend George Briscoe, currently employed at High Fidelity Autosport in Newington, CT design me an optimized enclosure for a pair of Focal woofers I had fallen in love with years ago. I handed George parameters for the drivers that I had extracted by good friend Tom Holmes, who tested and measured them for me. Additionally, I had George relocate the amplifiers and electronic crossover from the center/rear of the trunk to the right/rear quarter. I bought a new JL Audio HD600/4 (with remote subwoofer level control—a must for all of my systems) to run the rear speakers and the woofers, and I used my all-time second favorite car amplifier to run the fronts—an Audison HV Sedici (built about 16 years ago). The Audison HR-100 is my favorite car amp ever made—but I don’t own one…
So no holes in the car, no EQ, a new subwoofer enclosure (built from ultra-lite MDF to keep weight down) and an amp rack that allows me full access to all amp and crossover adjustments. Tuning the system has progressed nicely, but I expect it to be a month-long project as I get acclimated to the sound and carefully massage away bumps and dips in frequency response. This is a simple, clean, invisible music system (to quote the legendary Rich Inferrera) that maintains the integrity of the car but delivers detailed, dynamic, accurate sound with enough power to help overcome the rage of the not-so-quiet Caprice 9C1.
So its August, 2009 and I have based this nifty BLOG on the premise of taking people on virtual adventures in the Caprice 9C1—but the reference audio system is still being constructed and so I find myself with the first volume sans the Chevy.
I shared a fantastic lunch recently with renowned Stereophile columnist Sam Tellig—this is someone with whom I have had many pleasant communications but no face-to-face meetings. Finally, we got to break bread! (http://www.stereophile.com/)
I motored from the gym in New Haven, CT through torrential rain down I-95 south, connected to the Merritt Parkway and exited in New Canaan, CT where I wound my way past mansions and overwhelming quaintness over the border into New York and to the charming town of Pound Ridge.
North Star restaurant doesn’t serve lunch, but they were more than accommodating by letting us in, seating us at their spacious and totally hip bar and making us primo burgers and fries. Of course being gluten-free, I passed on the bun. This place has great food and a really fun bar atmosphere featuring wonderful performers several nights each week. http://www.northstarny.com/
Sam and I sat and chatted—he related an old story of a Bryston integrated amp that he still owns—totally blown to bits years ago by a lightening strike—but Bryston fixed it no charge and he had it back and working flawlessly a week later (http://www.bryston.com/). Sam told stories of Russian clubs in Brooklyn, travels all around the world, his favorite olive oils (some Spanish and Turkish varieties are worth checking out)…
Sam likes classical music, some jazz, and popular music of the 1920’s and 1930’s. I told Sam The Legend about my Caprice and the reference sound system I was trying to complete—and such an idea I had!!
Sam, I said—would you be willing to check out a few of your favorite CD’s in the Caprice once its done—you know, offer a few comments on how I have done designing and tweaking the system?
It seems likely that the great Sam Tellig might well do just that—stay tuned!!
Jason Spiewak, JLS Management
jason (at) jlsmgmt.com
Nick Ferrara (212) 245-5733
Mike James or Meaghan Muir - wirc2 [at] wircmedia.com