In the days before digital music, the primary medium for sound reproduction was vinyl records. Sure, there were some who preferred reel-to-reel tapes, but they were in the minority. The turntable was king, and it had to be properly set up. Any audiophile worth his (or her) salt owned at least one or two test records specifically designed for that task.
Over the years, I’ve collected a disproportionate number of such discs (it helped that I worked in record stores for much of my adult life, so I could obtain the ones I wanted at reasonable prices).
In the first part of this series (Issue 205), the focus was on test records issued by record labels themselves. In Part Two (Issue 206), albums from phono cartridge manufacturers were featured. Part Three (Issue 207) looked at records created by speaker companies. Part Four (Issue 208) included LPs from publications. Part Five (Issue 209) showcased a variety of sources, including some albums that weren’t even meant to be played! Part Six (Issue 211) featured Paul McGowan’s PS Audio setup disc, along with a few more unusual demo LPs.
After focusing on serious test records, I’m finishing this series on a much lighter note. (Audiophiles who can’t laugh at their obsession should skip to the next article.)
Official National Lampoon Stereo Test and Demonstration Record (1974)
National Lampoon magazine had its beginnings with the Harvard Lampoon. Founded in 1876 (!) by seven undergraduates, the Harvard Lampoon is the third longest-running continually published humor magazine in the world. It was inspired by other humor magazines of the time.
Around 1969, some alumni licensed the “Lampoon” name to create the National Lampoon, a very irreverent monthly publication that ran until the late 1990s. The list of comedians and writers whose resumés include stints with the magazine is impressive. At its height, the National Lampoon also created memorable parodies of other noted mainstream magazines, along with non-periodical spoofs of things such as high school yearbooks or popular novels. In addition, at least seven LPs of comedy and musical spoofs were issued under the National Lampoon name. One, a recording of their off-Broadway musical parody of Woodstock, Lemmings, included a cast that would go on to successful careers in movies and television. Christopher Guest (This is Spinal Tap and others), Chevy Chase and John Belushi (Saturday Night Live) were featured performers in Lemmings.
With that background, and the participation of Chase and Belushi, be prepared for a serious but hilarious skewering of audiophilia. The test record is accompanied by a 32-page booklet, the “Official National Lampoon Hi-Fi Primer” (by Ed Subitzky, who wrote and conceived of the album). The booklet contains a glossary of audio terminology that mixes humor with accurate information. Here’s are a couple of glossary entries: “Wow – What you hope people, and especially girls, will say when they hear your system. What they won’t say if your turntable or tape deck has this problem, which means that the motor suffers from slow variations in speed which can noticeably change the pith. Very rare now even on the low-cost equipment. Xenomonic – Combination of letters that sounds very technical and will probably be a true high fidelity term some day, although it hasn’t yet.” As a bonus, there are real ads for stereo equipment of the time.
Let’s begin. The album’s opening sets the mood: “This is the Official National Lampoon Stereo Test and Demonstration Record – it is not a tape. If you are playing it on a cassette tape recorder, a cartridge tape recorder, or a reel-to-reel tape recorder, take it off immediately and place it on your turntable.” The instructions go on to describe a turntable as having a rotating disc and a needle, which is not to be “confused with a sewing machine.”
(The entire album can be heard on the YouTube link below.)
The first test band purports to demonstrate the sound of male and female voices. The female voice is first, although the track was introduced as beginning with the male voice. This sets up an admonition that, if your stereo reversed the stated order of voices, it has “deep-seated problems that may require years of intensive repair shop analysis.”
The balance test involves a “game show clip” with voices at different points along the left/right stereo spread. On the next track, there’s a man-on-the-street type of interview followed by train sounds culminating in a collision. Following the impact, the narrator explains, using audiophile terminology, what you should have heard regarding tonal quality, stereo placement, etc.
The separation test presents a scenario at a doctor’s office. The doctor explains and performs the procedure of separation to a pair of Siamese twins, saying this hurts him more than them (hey, nobody ever accused the Lampoon folks of having good taste or sensitivity).
A mildly amusing rock song about frequency response (complete with introduced test tones that occasionally bleep out some sexual innuendo) provides a musical interlude.
The following track is introduced as an unmodulated (silent) groove which purports to demonstrate whether or not your stereo has evolved to think for itself. Of course, it doesn’t stay unmodulated for long, given the ensuing sound of explosions and chaos.
Up next is not a test track, but a “public service“ for those who like to enjoy playing their system at high volume in dense living environments to the detriment of their neighbors. In a very rough, working-class accent, your system tells off the neighbors in no uncertain terms.
The last track on Side One informs you that you have reached the end of the first side and will have to turn the record over. (On this YouTube clip, the needle sticks and repeats about 11 times before getting back on track. At first, I thought it was an intentional goof by the Lampooners, but, no, it is a problem with the LP used for the upload.)
Side Two begins with an admonition that if you did not flip the record over as instructed at the end of Side One, you must go back and listen again until you “pass the test.” This is followed by a test of your system’s realism, with such “familiar sounds” as “nails on a window pane and nails on a blackboard” presented at varying loudness levels.
Next up is a test of your balance control’s “resistance accuracy,” something that isn’t a “thing,” which the narrator ultimately admits after leading the listener on a wild goose chase.
The “phase test” track devolves into a contentious interchange between a man and woman before demonstrating the phase relationship between the channels. After (surprisingly accurate) instructions on changing the phase of the speakers, the couple returns to bickering before turning on the listener.
What follows is a discussion of tonal accuracy and the tendency of some equipment manufacturers to exaggerate portions of the frequency spectrum in order to impress the listener with boosted bass or treble. An “audio engineer” proceeds to describe an attempt to create an exceptionally awful recording, created with ridiculously substandard equipment that was deliberately abused. The recording is touted as sounding “far, far worse than anything you have heard in your life.” The listener is warned that if it doesn’t meet those expectations, their system is one that exaggerates frequencies. Of course, the track turns out to be a quite acceptable orchestral recording of the ending of “The Great Gate of Kiev,” from Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition.
A discussion of sources of unwelcome background noise and distractions leads to a test of whether the listener is able to tune out such annoyances. The right speaker is fed a “typical” musical number with a “typical amount of loud and low passages,” while the left speaker produces a recording of a steel mill that is gradually increasing in volume. The listener is instructed to use a stopwatch to determine the time at which it is no longer possible to ignore the steel mill sounds. If the distraction can be blocked out for 30 – 40 seconds, the listener is deemed to be capable of continuing to enjoy their system in an increasingly noisy environment. Anyone who lasted less than 30 seconds is told they have already suffered irreversible hearing loss, and are “in danger of losing their…“ (at which point the track goes silent).
The penultimate band is the “punishment track.” It is intended to be used any time “your stereo system misbehaves.” It is a particularly unpleasant bit of sound, during which the system’s “voice” apologizes for misbehaving and begs for mercy.
The album concludes with the narrator hoping that your system passed the tests with flying colors. If it didn’t, he says to remember that nobody’s perfect and “most people usually end up with what they deserve (click), what they deserve (click), what they deserve (click), what they deserve (click),” etc. The sound of an explosion follows an inordinate number of those repeats, continuing into the lead-out groove all the way to the label.
To be sure, the humor is often sophomoric, and some of the bits are dated and fall flat, but overall, it’s a fun listen.
(Special thanks to Gregory Morgan of The Audiophile Foundation for bringing this test record to my attention.)
