Top 30 Stereo Quotes

An action film can have too much action; picture an equaliser on a stereo, with all the knobs pegged at 10. It becomes a cacophony and is, ultimately, quite boring.

If something doesn’t work in my house – TV, phone, stereo, anything – I just call my dad, and he knows the answer.

Without Metallica, I wouldn’t be doing what I am doing. I have every Metallica record, of course, and I would spend hours on drums in my parents’ basement with the stereo behind me, cranking those records and learning Lars’ drum beats, beat by beat.

I grew up watching Gregory Hines banging out rhythms like drum beats, and Jimmy Slyde dancing these melodies, you know, bop-bah-be-do-bap, not just tap-tap-tap. Everyone else was dancing in monotone, but I could hear the hoofers in stereo, and they influenced me to have this musical approach towards tap.

I was a kid who was born and raised on Johnny Cash. My father played ‘At Folsom Prison’ constantly. Cash was the only thing I remember coming from our big, warm stereo console. Even then, I knew Cash was uncool. I knew he was an unhip Republican.

For live you need a microphone for the snare and the high hat, the kick drum, a nice stereo overhead and one for the toms – you can get away with using four mikes.

There’s a room in my house where my stereo, records, CDs, and books are housed. I spend a lot of time in that room, sitting in my chair beside the fireplace, reading and listening to music. Sometimes I just stand before the shelves and look at my books, because every single one of them means something to me.

Sometimes I have to run and hide. What I do at home sometimes is, I listen to a CD of the roughness of the ocean. I turn every light off, and I turn the stereo on, and I just go in my mind, cry, talk to God, tell him, ‘I’m your child, too.’ And I stay in my little solitude until I can get the strength to go outdoors.

I decided to design and build my own stereo amplifier system at age 13.

I was 5 years old when I first broke into my mother’s records and played Nat King Cole, and sat alongside the stereo and listened to Nat’s music.

There are certain things that you can blast through a stereo. You can blast hip-hop. You can blast heavy metal. You can’t blast ‘All Things Considered.’

I wanted to play drums, and I got a set when I was 14 and just started to play in the house, to the stereo. I liked Ringo Starr, of course. And Sandy Nelson. I had his record, ‘Let There Be Drums,’ and I’d play along with it.

When I received my first paycheck from my now known day job, I spent it on a period Craftsman chair and a Frank Lloyd Wright-wannabe lamp. With my second paycheck, I bought a stereo.

I wasn’t one to go out and buy a new car and stereo system and expensive clothes. My mom helped keep me grounded.

The worst time for me is in the final few hours of taking a track that you’ve worked on for two years and bouncing it down to the final stereo mix. The overwhelming emotion for me is complete and utter fear that I’ve made a mistake. I’m scared. Afterward, I obsess endlessly about it.

Your head is a stereo input. The density and cartilage of your ears embed certain extra characteristics into stereo sound sources. Your brain decodes that and gives you sound plus conscious directions.

Somehow, since I became a family, every minute in which I am alone and not listening to two kids screaming in stereo feels like a vacation.

After the release of ‘Ashta Chemm,’ several producers and directors came with similar roles in their films. But I doesn’t want to do stereo type roles and do something different for each film, and refused them.

When you listen to stereo on your home system, your both ears hear both speakers. Turn on the left speaker sometime and notice you’re hearing it also in your right ear.

I grew up in St. Louis in a tiny house full of large music – Mahalia Jackson and Marian Anderson singing majestically on the stereo, my German-American mother fingering ‘The Lost Chord’ on the piano as golden light sank through trees, my Palestinian father trilling in Arabic in the shower each dawn.

I also mixed David Bowie’s Young Americans album in 5.1 earlier this year and it will be available very soon. Even the original stereo mixes have been re-mastered and sound amazingly good, better than ever, in fact!

Most people have stereo vision, so why belittle that very, very important element of our existence?

I listen to KCRW in the car and Pandora radio, which I stream through the stereo from my iPhone. I’ve been listening to everything from Caribou to Conway Twitty. If I’m going on a longer car ride, I’ll download some podcasts.

Film has lost something in the translation to high tech. It’s become so super-real. It’s with digital this and stereo that, and everything’s like a CD.

Here’s something I probably shouldn’t be saying: I never listen to my soundtrack albums because I can’t stand it. It’s just stereo. When I write, I write in surround. My life is in surround.

This is not the first time in my life where you know going into a job that you’re going to hear in stereo what was wrong with what you did.

I think movies lost a lot when they went to stereo and five-track sound.

My first car, I got it in an auction at my temple. It was an ’86 Volvo that I got for 500 bucks, and then wound up throwing $10,000 into the stereo system and put TVs in the foot rests. It was the most ridiculous Volvo you’d ever seen, but I had never had money before and I was out of my mind.

Sometimes in films it’s nice to have violins on either side, rather than on one side, so you’ve got more of a stereo picture with the violins. Sometimes it’s good to have the basses in the middle.

I begged and begged, and my uncle gave me his old turntables. It was one hi-fi and one old Stereo Lab turntable and a rusty mixer. I was really chuffed. I kept that for five years – that’s where I learned to mix.