Herculodge

The King of the Kitchen: How a $75 Radio Humiliated My High-End Obsession

Three months ago, I went on a radio bender. A dozen high-performance units—sleek, nostalgic, gloriously over-engineered—marched into my home like contestants in an RF beauty pageant. I was smitten, especially with the moody charm of the Tecsun PL-660 and its sibling, the PL-680. These were radios with pedigree, radios that whispered to my inner Cold War romantic. For a while, I was in a haze of knobs, bands, and signal strength meters.

But then, like a post-honeymoon couple stuck in IKEA on a Sunday, reality set in. The signal that won my heart, that actually delivered, didn’t come from one of my beloved Tecsuns. It came from the unassuming, utilitarian, tragically affordable Sangean PR-D12—a $75 plastic rectangle that now sits with smug superiority on my kitchen window sill, lording over its pricier cousins like a budget Caesar.

This thing grabs FM like it owes it money. No hiss, no dance of antenna acrobatics—just clean, full, gloriously consistent reception. Even plugged into AC, where other radios develop mysterious hums and hiccups, the PR-D12 remains unbothered, as if to say, “Try me, I’m built different.” Case in point: I tossed it into the master bathroom—aka The RF Dead Zone—and it casually pulled in 89.3 without even extending its antenna. That was the moment I knew: this wasn't luck. It was shielding. Engineering. Quiet confidence.

So now, while the high-performance fleet gathers dust like retired astronauts, the PR-D12 plays NPR in my kitchen with the humble grace of a champion. It didn’t arrive with fanfare, but it won the war where it mattered—between the toast and the coffee maker, where fidelity meets function.

Why I Prefer the Tecsun PL-330 Over the Tecsun PL-680

I’ve come to a shocking conclusion: the humble, compact Tecsun PL-330 runs circles around its puffed-up, pricier cousin, the PL-680. Despite the 680’s larger frame and swaggering presence, the 330 delivers far superior FM reception, whether plugged in or running on battery. It offers clearer, crisper talk radio, doesn’t hiccup or waver, or suffer volume fluctuations on those elusive fringe stations, and generally behaves like a well-trained butler—discreet, competent, and always where it needs to be.

In fact, I’ve promoted the 330 to the piano room, where it serenades me during office typing marathons or lulls me into a nap on the living room couch. It’s the ultimate armchair companion: sonically polite, RFI-resistant, and clear as a bell when it comes to voices. While it can’t quite match the Qodosen DX-286 for musical richness, especially on vocals or instrumentation, I still gravitate toward the 330 for one simple reason—it’s just better at talking to me.

That said, no radio is flawless. Each has its quirks. So yes, I’m keeping both the 330 and the Qodosen. Like children with different talents, they each deserve their moment to shine.

The 680, meanwhile, has been unceremoniously reassigned to garage duty, where it now plays background noise for kettlebell workouts. I finally found a RFI-free corner where it can sweat it out in peace. The Qodosen has taken over the kitchen, where it fills the air with music while I destroy pans and recipes.

What About the 680 Vs. the 660?

People say these radios are virtually the same and they are similar, but I actually prefer the speaker sound of the PL-660 and the 660 receives tough signals without volume fluctuation unlike the 680, so on those two counts the 660 is the better radio. 

Return to Sender: My 150-Minute Love-Hate Tragedy with the XHDATA D-808

Blame it on a weak moment and an $86 Amazon sale, but I made a reckless, passionless purchase: the XHDATA D-808, a shortwave radio that seduced me with specs and betrayed me with vibes. I’m no radio novice—I cherish high-performance radios the way some people cherish vintage wines or custom fountain pens. So, naturally, I assumed the D-808 would be a kindred spirit.

It wasn’t.

From the moment I liberated it from its box, I felt… nothing. Worse than nothing—annoyance. Yes, it performed decently across the bands. Sure, the sound was crisp. But the overall aesthetic was cold, the interface clunky, and the ergonomics so off it felt like I was trying to operate a microwave built by a committee of sleep-deprived engineers in 1997. The instruction manual read like it had been machine-translated from Mandarin to Esperanto and then dunked in bong water.

The D-808’s memory and page system was the final straw—confusing, counterintuitive, and emotionally unavailable. Every time I clicked through its labyrinth of presets, I felt like I was in a doomed relationship with a partner who couldn’t remember my birthday or where we parked the car.

And so, two hours into our lifeless courtship—at precisely 6:30 p.m., just 150 minutes after unboxing it—I did the honorable thing: I dumped it. I printed the Amazon return slip, sprinted to the UPS Store, and dropped that thing off like it was a cursed amulet. The clerk took it without judgment, as if he’d seen this heartbreak before. And just like that, I walked out lighter, freer, and with a newfound appreciation for objects that don’t give me the emotional equivalent of sunburn.

Back home, I powered on my trusty Tecsun PL-330—a humble "open box" rescue bought for a mere $50, and worth every penny. The display glowed like an old friend waving from across the room. The buttons made sense. The ergonomics cradled my hands. The joy was real. The Tecsun and I? We speak the same language.

The XHDATA D-808? Not for me.

The Qodosen DX-286 Is the New King in the Workout Cave

My once-beloved Sangean PR-D12 has been unceremoniously exiled from the sanctum of sweat—my hallowed Kettlebell Cave—and replaced by the upstart Qodosen DX-286, a radio so surprisingly competent it might as well have strutted in wearing a crown and flexing its antenna.

Now, let’s get one thing straight: the Kettlebell Cave is no place for static. Between goblet squats, gritted teeth, and the satisfying clang of iron, the last thing I want is to be fiddling with a dial like I’m cracking a safe in a spy movie. The PR-D12, noble though it was, just couldn’t hack it with the finicky FM reception in my subterranean temple of torment. Enter the DX-286—clear as a confession and stable as a Russian powerlifter on his fifth espresso. It handled the reception gauntlet like a champ and, for that, it earns permanent residence in the Muscle Cave.

The PR-D12, meanwhile, has been reassigned to diplomatic duty in the master bathroom. It now serenades shaving rituals and toothpaste gargles with NPR and weather updates. Not exactly a warrior’s task, but a noble station nonetheless. Everyone has a place in the empire.

Comparing the Qodosen DX-286 with the Tecsun PL-330 (Which I Absolutely Did Not Need)

Let’s get one thing straight: I had no business buying the Tecsun PL-330. None. I already own the Tecsun Four Horsemen—660, 680, 880, and 990—all brilliant in their own right, all lovingly hoarded. I even own the Qodosen DX-286, a small-footprint miracle that punches above its weight with a speaker that sounds like it’s packing 3 watts of sonic muscle, though the specs remain elusive. That radio even beats the Tecsuns on AM shielding, filtering out the urban electrical swamp that makes most radios wheeze and crackle like they’re being exorcised.

And yet... the PL-330, a compact, .25-watt whisper of a radio, somehow seduced me. Maybe it was the open-box discount—$50 for a radio with a good reputation and a slightly rumpled box? Resistance was futile. I hit “Buy Now” faster than a dopamine junkie in a Black Friday frenzy.

I didn't even need the manual. Owning this many Tecsuns means I'm essentially fluent in Tecsunese. Clock setting? Presets? I could do it blindfolded while flossing.

But let me be honest: The PL-330 is sleek. It has the crisp, militaristic geometry of something NASA might issue to interns. The buttons are snug and precise, unlike the Qodosen’s oversized, Playskool-style layout that screams “Designed by someone who just discovered ergonomics last Tuesday.”

That said, Qodosen wins on practicality—it has a kickstand. The PL-330, bafflingly, does not. A design oversight or a cruel joke? We may never know.

I don’t dabble in shortwave, but word on the street is that the 330 handles it like a champ. For FM, both radios are impressively sensitive, but I give a hair-thin edge to the Qodosen. On AM, the Qodosen’s clarity and noise control make it the better choice. For music, the Qodosen delivers a richer, more textured experience. But for talk radio, the PL-330 is sharper and cleaner—great for absorbing Madeleine Brand or NPR in the quiet of dawn.

Verdict? The Qodosen stays bedside, loyal and boomy. The PL-330 earns a home in the master bath or kitchen, a quiet companion for 5 a.m. when the world still sleeps.

Did I need it? Absolutely not. Am I keeping it? Absolutely.

DSP on the Qodosen DX-286 Compromises Voice Quality But Music Mode Seems to Help

For a brief, shining moment, the Qodosen DX-286 reigned supreme as my official “Bedroom Radio.” Its speaker sound outclassed my Tecsun PL-660, and for three glorious days, it performed like a champ—pulling in FM stations with ease, flexing its signal-grabbing muscles, and making me question why I hadn’t promoted it sooner.

Then, the cracks started to show.

While listening to Madeleine Brand on KCRW’s Press Play, I noticed something unsettling: her voice sounded garbled, like a bad cell phone connection from 2007. The station itself was booming in loud and clear, so naturally, I blamed KCRW—surely the problem was on their end, not my radio’s.

But today, history repeated itself: same show, same station, same digital distortion. My curiosity piqued, I conducted an impromptu radio showdown. The Tecsun PL-680—blessedly DSP-free—rendered Brand’s voice in perfect clarity. The Tecsun PL-880, which does use DSP, produced a mild warbling effect, but nothing egregious. The Qodosen? It still sounded like an AI-generated voicemail.

My verdict? The Qodosen’s DSP is so aggressive in its filtering that it mangles human speech, rendering talk radio unlistenable. But give it music, and it performs beautifully—rich, warm, and clear. In other words, it’s a great DJ but a terrible journalist.

So, while my Qodosen remains a capable FM warrior, it has been unceremoniously demoted. The Bedroom Radio Throne is currently the Tecsun PL-680.

Update:

I toggled from Voice to Music mode and the garbling effect is so diminished that I can put the Qodosen back on my bedside table. Sorry, Tecsun PL-680. 

State of the Radio Collection, March 2025

If you don’t know me, I’m the guy who loves radios too much—an absurd, undying devotion that borders on the ecclesiastical. Whenever I spot a radio in one of my rooms, I freeze, eyes locked in reverence, momentarily transported back to being an eight-year-old astronaut, marveling at the dials and switches of my imaginary rocketship. Some men rotate their tires; I rotate my radios. At any given week, the landscape of my home shifts—a new lineup of signal-catching sentinels, each assigned its specific mission.

This week, the kitchen command center is anchored by the Tecsun PL-880, reigning above the sink, battling the unholy cacophony of the ice machine, air fryer, and garbage disposal. It pumps out enough sound to keep me from feeling like I’m living inside a steel foundry. The kitchen’s understudy? The Qodosen DX-286—a competent performer, though its design makes me wince. I’d rather be gazing at the Tecsun PL-330, but reports claim the Qodosen has superior FM, AM, and speaker quality, so for now, it begrudgingly holds its position.

Over in the office, where classical and jazz hold court, the Tecsun PL-990 is the maestro. Nearby, its understudy, the venerable Tecsun PL-680, perches atop the Yamaha piano like an old professor, dignified and always ready to lecture.

The guest bathroom is graced by the C. Crane Solar, a pocket-sized powerhouse that delivers a surprisingly rich sound, ensuring visitors don’t suffer in monastic silence.

In my bedroom, the silver Tecsun PL-660 holds fort, tuned for maximum bass, cutting the edge off any shrillness in music or talk. Like its cousin, the 680, it proves that while fidelity is king, warmth is what makes a radio worth keeping.

While the PL-880 and PL-990 offer the best sound in my collection, my heart belongs to the PL-660 and PL-680. Their only flaw? A lack of robust AM reception and speakers with a mere one measly watt when they deserve at least three. Yet, despite their imperfections, they remain the radios that stop me in my tracks, locking me in that childhood trance—the same one that once had me spending hours in rapt fascination with my G.I. Joes. Some things never change.

My 2 Favorite Radios: The Tecsun PL-680 and PL-660

Something was messing with my usual crisp reception of 88.1 FM KJAZZ, and for a brief, panicked moment, I suspected rogue RFI had infiltrated my house. My trusty Tecsun PL-880, usually a fortress against interference, was coughing up static like an asthmatic saxophonist. I switched to my Tecsun PL-680—same sputtering disaster. After a round of troubleshooting that felt like an exorcism, I moved both radios away from the wall and onto a small table. Just like that, KJAZZ returned in all its smooth, undistorted glory. Lesson learned: walls are the enemy.

This minor fiasco led me to re-evaluate the much-hyped DSP-enhanced reception. I hate to say it, but my so-called cutting-edge DSP radios—Qodosen DX-286, Tecsun PL-880, and Tecsun PL-990—aren’t doing anything special on FM. My old-school PLL receivers, the Tecsun PL-680 and PL-660, hold their own just fine. The fancy digital signal processing? Overrated.

Speaking of things that need fixing, the shrill, ear-piercing speaker sound on the 660 and 680 had been plaguing me for too long—until I discovered that a simple flick of the Treble to Bass setting transformed their audio from "tin can torture" to something much warmer, even pleasant. A revelation, really.

Still, there’s something I can’t quite explain: despite their objectively better speaker quality, the 880 and 990 don’t captivate me the way the 660 and 680 do. Maybe it’s nostalgia, or maybe it’s a longing for a simpler, pre-DSP era—when radios didn’t try so hard to be smart, and all you needed was a decent tuner, a good antenna, and a quiet room.

Enjoying the Tecsun PL-680 and PL-660 a Lot More on the Bass Setting

I've discovered that my almost-identical Tecsun PL-680 and PL-660 sound more pleasing to the ears when I set the tone to Bass instead of Treble. With Treble, the audio can be shrill; with Bass, it’s smoother, richer, and far less likely to make my ears bleed—especially for talk radio. Music? Either setting works.

Now, I also own the much pricier Tecsun PL-880 and PL-990, both of which offer far superior speaker sound. And yet, bizarrely, I still prefer my 680 and 660—and I haven’t entirely figured out why.

Maybe it’s their pre-DSP magic, less prone to the infuriating interference that plagues modern radios. Or maybe it’s pure sentimentality. Whatever the case, these two remain my favorites, and when I finally crack the code on why, I’ll report back. 

The Love of Radios and the Power of Gezelligheid

The Love of Radios and the Power of Gezelligheid

I’m fully aware that my love for radios borders on the irrational. When I see a certain type—say, the Tecsun PL-680 or PL-660—something in my brain short-circuits. I’m instantly enchanted, as if I’ve just glimpsed an old friend across a crowded room, and at the same time, I’m comforted, as if that friend just handed me a warm cup of coffee and told me everything was going to be alright.

A radio isn’t just a device; it’s a symbol, though I haven’t quite worked out of what exactly. Maybe it represents the art of slowing down—of sitting in a quiet room, wrapped in a cocoon of music or in the company of voices so familiar they feel like beloved houseguests. Or maybe it’s something more primal, a sanctuary against the chaos of the world, a frequency through which I can tune out the profane and tune into something sacred.

The word that comes to mind when I hold a radio is cozy—but not in the kitschy, scented-candle, novelty-mug kind of way. This is deeper than that, more akin to the Dutch word gezelligheid—a term that encompasses coziness, warmth, companionship, and the ineffable comfort of simply being. Radios don’t just play sound; they create atmosphere. They transport me back to Hollywood, Florida, sitting on the porch with my grandfather, the air thick with the scent of an impending tropical storm, the crackle of a ball game playing in the background like a heartbeat of another era.

Many have abandoned radio for the cold efficiency of streaming devices and smartphones. I tried to do the same for over a decade. I failed. Because gezelligheid—that feeling of simple, enduring pleasure—isn’t something you can replace with an algorithm. Some things, no matter how old-fashioned, still hum with life.