Today one of my computer speakers either committed electronic suicide or passed out from exhaustion. True, my factory issued Altec Lansing towers were not made to serve someone like me. I forced the latest and greatest albums as well as perennial favorites through them for about 18 hours a day...for three and a half years.
Tomorrow I will set out to replace them with a new set, so I don't hear half of every album. I'll miss you speakers, and I feel that I should bury you next to Blackbeard or Luna as another victim of life in Manchester. You may not have been an anorexic snake or a beta that doubled as a therapist, but you guys have provided me with countless hours of musical comfort and discovery.
It was through you that I first encountered M. Ward and Death Cab. You listened patiently as I played "My Favourite Chords" 800 times. You came with me on trips and showed just as much love to my iPod as my iTunes. You didn't judge me as I danced spastically to "Down on the Corner" and "Let the Poison Spill from Your Throat," and you never questioned my flippant musical nights where I couldn't seem to listen to a song all the way through.
You played Sigur Ros as I stayed up to ungodly hours studying for biochem tests. You let Damien Jurado and Nick Drake's voices resonate through my room as I slept blissfully. You helped me drown out the sound of the batting cages or the landscapers.
I will miss your crisp sound, and although I probably will forget you years down the road, we'll always have our hours together.
R.I.P.
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