[O]nce upon a time a man was judged by the sheer bulk of his speakers you'd walk into a single guy's apartment and find these giant wood-and-fabric monoliths. Tombstones by Dior. The guys who had these fancy systems usually had exquisitely hip tastes (Steely Dan!
Weather Report!), but sometimes they were just headbangers who wanted brute force. These were also known as the guys who lived upstairs.
The ones who'd start the REO Speedwagon the moment they got up which, thankfully, was usually around one PM. I'm sure lots of people still have speakers the size of Sub Zero industrial refrigerators, but I'd prefer to trade size for that incremental fraction of audio fidelity. This is, of course, why God, or Henry Kloss, or somebody around that level invented subwoofers.
Unfortunately, you're advised to put them on the floor, and that advice also applies to the guys who lived upstairs with the REO Speedwagon box set. (Yes, I know, I don't have any upstairs anymore. However, I will keep on hating them.
)
I still have a brace of wood-and-fabric monoliths (stereolith?), but they're more the size of a microwave oven rotated 90 degrees. They are, however, in your face, if only because they're mounted at eye level, unless you're an NBA player other than .
