Stephen Mejias

It started as a joke. I told my uncle, also a huge Mets fan, that if the Mets didn't make it to the playoffs, I'd get rid of my television. What would I need a television for anyway? All I ever watch are Mets games, and I can get my news from the internet or the radio. The idea became more attractive as I thought of how much easier it would be to swap audio components without an enormous, old 27" Sharp television set getting in the way. I might even be able to hock the television for a sweet pair of bongos, or something similarly musical and pretty. They've got some nice rhythm sticks over there at Jemma Loan on Newark Avenue. A trumpet? A few harmonicas? Who knows? Plus, without the easy distraction of television, I'd inevitably read and write more, listen to more music, maybe even exercise a bit. All good things.

I never cared much for Santana. (The band, not Johan. Johan, I love.) You know, there was always "Evil Ways" and "Oye Como Va"—fine songs for a stretch of highway when there's nothing else on the radio, but, eh: So what? I shrug my shoulders.

Because John is visiting manufacturers in Montreal, he missed this morning's rock awakening. We're gathered in my office, huddled round the sound, listening. "I'm glad John isn't here," says Elizabeth. "I need to break this in slowly."

A gorgeous family of Shindo gear makes its home on a Box Furniture Co. rack ($3700), handmade in Brooklyn, New York.

Tomorrow, music editor Robert Baird is off to Austin, Texas, for the South By Southwest Music, Film, and Interactive Fest. He attends year after year.

1. My system, with the Moscode in it, seems to achieve greater soundstage width. In Ryan Adams' "Mockingbird," a tambourine rattles away far in the righthand corner of my room. It startles and impresses me every time.