Andrew Robinson Tag

The High Cost of High Expectations

The High Cost of High Expectations

photo by Tom Pumford

The other day I had the opportunity to work on a job using a camera system I had only heard stories about—that is to say, I had never personally used it for my paid professional work. Needless to say I was more than a little excited, struggling to contain my inner fanboy, as I began the shoot. After about an hour behind the lens, something became increasingly clear, something I wasn’t expecting . . . I hated the camera. Oh, I loathed it. It threw me for a complete loop, for how could I, after all these years of yearning, not only be disappointed by this machine but actually be upset by it?

 

I’ve seen the same happen to AV enthusiasts time and time again. The reason often has to do with many of our opinions being formed by the opinions of others rather than being based on firsthand knowledge. It took me all of an hour to realize I would never recommend this product to another despite it winning countless Best Of awards and being the IT product to have in a given year. More shocking still was that when I quietly shared my displeasure with a few of my colleagues, they instantly rushed to the defense of . . . the product! As if my personal opinions (that is what we’re talking about here) were invalid, and it was me who had the problem—not the product!

 

When we self-identify with a hobby, product, or group, we take offense when that something is called out or criticized. For if there is something wrong with our choice in whatever, that must mean there is something wrong with us . . . right? Better to attack what threatens us rather than reason with it, even if this means not being able to reason with our very selves. It is this latter point that I find especially prevalent among AV enthusiasts—especially older diehards (or dare I say, blowhards).

 

I have on numerous occasions been in the presence of individuals who have five- and six-figure AV systems that others heap praise upon for their drool-worthiness, and yet know that these same individuals spend nearly zero time enjoying their setups. I know that if many had to do it all over again, they would likely never have purchased much of the gear they currently own, opting for something less intrusive and cumbersome. They stick with it because of this notion of clout.

 

I’ve watched people listen intently to something they clearly do not like and still buy it anyway because it must be them—the customer—who is missing something. That with time they will see the light so to speak. Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we feel we are incapable of trusting our own judgement when it comes to AV equipment? Is the draw of an award, or the seemingly endless string of others who “believe,” that strong of a pull that we’re willing to lie to ourselves? Or is it because we build up so many products into “legend” that the mere idea they may be “mortal” is too much for us to take?

 

I don’t pretend to know the exact answers.Suffice to say that the phenomenon is very real and only growing stronger, as more and more people in this world are choosing to live vicariously through the actions and ideas of others. Don’t believe me? I recently produced a video entitled “Vinyl Sucks” for YouTube, and within three days it garnered over 100,000 views and over 

1,500 negative comments—mostly directed at me on a personal level for my opinion. The funny thing about this being, I don’t think vinyl sucks, and in the video I say as much. I even explain that despite its shortcomings, it has great value to me and others. But I opened with a critical—albeit humorous—jab, and as a result I was roasted for it.

Why is there a right way and a wrong way to enjoy your favorite music and movies? If there is, who decides? Have you lied to yourself about equipment you’ve purchased in the past, or maybe even currently own?

Andrew Robinson

Andrew Robinson is a photographer and videographer by trade, working on commercial
and branding projects all over the US. He has served as a managing editor and
freelance journalist in the AV space for nearly 20 years, writing technical articles,
product reviews, and guest speaking on behalf of several notable brands at functions
around the world.

Specs vs. User Experience

Specs vs. User Experience

Earlier today, I had a sponsored post from Samsung pop up on my Instagram feed. It was for an 80-some-inch 8K QLED display that could be mine for the paltry sum of $15,000.

 

On one hand, $15,000 could be seen as somewhat of a revelation, for it wasn’t too long ago that TVs of this ilk commanded price tags double that of what Samsung is asking. On the other, 4K is in its infancy, and here we are now having to debate over the need—dare I say relevance—of 8K. And yet, despite all my years in this business, the notion that an 80-inch 8K display exists does little to rev my proverbial engine. Samsung’s 8K display does little but make me spec drunk.

 

Many products over the years have made me spec drunk. That is to say, they’ve been beyond impressive on paper. Upon closer inspection or following first-hand experience, they proved no different than much that came before them. Specifications only tell half of a product’s story, and it’s the half that makes for a juicy Internet post, not so much what it’s actually like to live with and use said product.

 

For example, I am a photographer by day, and in that community the camera of the moment belongs to Sony and their A Series of mirrorless cameras. On paper (and on vlogs), the A Series cameras are without equal, and yet I don’t think you could give me one—again.

Yes, I once spent thousands of my own dollars chasing specs and joining the rest of the photographic world in switching from DSLR to mirrorless. I spent almost two years trying to convince myself of Sony’s superiority. I was desperate to fall in love with my camera’s specs and to see that love somehow manifest itself in the work I was creating.

 

Only I didn’t, and it didn’t. I became so frustrated with the user experience that I began to dread picking up the camera. Eventually I sold all my Sony gear and went back to the camera system that had served me well since Day One.

 

Specialty AV is no different, and the constant “noise”

Specs vs. User Experience

that specifications generate can be daunting, if not overwhelming. Moreover, specs are designed to create a sense of FOMO in consumers, for who wouldn’t want eight times more of something? Eight times more TV than the TV you’re likely watching, which was sold to you as being four times the TV of your last TV—and so it goes.

 

And yet, when pressed, my friends in and around this business rarely, if ever, speak fondly of the latest equipment adorning their racks or walls, but rather of equipment of systems past. Is this due to nostalgia? Is it because products of yesteryear were simpler, more straightforward? I don’t pretend to know. What I do know is that the user experience tells a lot more of a product’s story, and it’s the part of the story that resonates long after the newness of a billion more this and a trillion more that wears off.

Andrew Robinson

Andrew Robinson is a photographer and videographer by trade, working on commercial
and branding projects all over the US. He has served as a managing editor and
freelance journalist in the AV space for nearly 20 years, writing technical articles,
product reviews, and guest speaking on behalf of several notable brands at functions
around the world.

Luxury Isn’t About Price–It’s About Pride

I’ve written professionally about the consumer electronics industry since I was 20 years old, which in a few short years means I will have been lovingly doing this shit for half my life. When I first started out, I will admit I was all about the gear. I loved it. I wrote my ass off in hopes of impressing my editors enough to trust me with the truly blue chip products in the future—products such as loudspeakers from Wilson Audio, or electronics from Mark Levinson, and perhaps a projector from Barco. I rose through the ranks of this business, and before I knew it I was the managing editor of (arguably) the largest consumer electronics publication in the world. And I loved it . . .

 

Until I didn’t.

 

My falling out of love with the consumer electronics industry and all things specialty audio/video coincided with my departure from my other profession of nearly as long, advertising. It was 2008, everyone was in the throes of the housing crisis, and I’ll be the first to admit I was hit very, very hard. I lived in Southern California, and I saw my property value plummet and the neighborhood I had purchased a home in not two years prior become littered with foreclosure and auction signs. To say that my priorities shifted would be a massive understatement, for I (let alone anyone else) had little use for the bells and whistles of specialty AV that once warmed my heart.

Luxury Isn't About Price--It's About Pride

photo by Jens Kreuter

I downsized in an attempt to stay afloat, a tactic that worked for me, though it did cost me one very nice, very trick, custom whole-home audio/video installation. From its ashes arose a new type of setup, one that was neither trick, nor custom, but that consisted of a handful of 55-inch flat screens and an equal number of soundbars. Until recently, this barebones-type setup is what I called my reference, and to be honest I was never embarrassed by it, because it just worked. Sure I had seen and heard better in my travels, but I didn’t miss “better,” for I had grown accustomed to the simplicity of this new “world.”

 

About six months ago, I was in the market for a display as my last remaining HD display was a bit long in the tooth and I wanted to use my new-ish UltraHD living room display as its replacement. This meant needing to shop for a new TV. Initially, I thought I’d just go on Amazon and order up another 65-inch something or other that cost roughly a thousand dollars and wait for my Prime shipping to bring it to me in 48 hours or less. But then I thought, what if instead of doing what I always did, or had been doing for the past few years, I was a little more selective? Choosing to buy based on quality and perhaps longevity (if there is such a thing in technology) rather than purely on budget—what doors or options would that open for me?

 

It would be the quintessential question that would reunite me with the hobby I had left, and set me on a new path of discovery. A path that wasn’t about quantity—be it number of channels or features—but rather quality, for I knew if I was going to spend money, I only wanted to do it once if I could help it.

 

We’ve been brainwashed into thinking that because technology changes so rapidly, we must change in kind, when that’s not really realistic, nor even the truth. True, new products come out each and every year, or sometimes more frequently. Yet if you really stop and compare them, there is often little, if anything, that separates the old from the new. Conversely, buying solely on price doesn’t always go hand-in-hand with quality, or longevity. Which brings us to luxury goods.

 

To me, luxury isn’t about price, though the two often are interchangeable. Luxury is more about the ownership experience, for long after you’ve swiped your credit card, or emptied a portion of your bank account, you have to live with your buying decision. Some of the most financially painful things I’ve ever purchased, I still have to this day, no doubt due to their superior craftsmanship and usage of materials that, while expensive, have stood the test of time. And that fills me with a kind of pride. It doesn’t make me better, but it does feel good, and that’s worth something.

 

If there’s one thing I think Millennials get right, it’s that they seem to value an experience over superficial goods. They’d rather have one truly great, timeless experience than several mediocre ones. Maybe this has to do with their fiscal outlook, or perhaps it’s their form of silent rebellion—who knows. But I do think that as things progress, we’re going to begin to place higher and higher levels of importance upon getting more from less.

 

This is what I believe, and this is what I wish to explore as a writer and regular contributor to this publication going forward. So, stay tuned, I guess . . .

Andrew Robinson

Andrew Robinson is a photographer and videographer by trade, working on commercial
and branding projects all over the US. He has served as a managing editor and
freelance journalist in the AV space for nearly 20 years, writing technical articles,
product reviews, and guest speaking on behalf of several notable brands at functions
around the world.