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.
Recent Comments