[aamefford]

Yes, but it's really nice wood!...

"That's what she said". (Hangs head in shame…)

 

[jimmers]

And don't forget the 9V batteries!

Are they included?

 

[Argo Duck]

FWIW one of my research topics - concerning how societies and communities change - found one of the most effective methods is just ordinary people talking to friends, family and acquaintances. It starts to be really effective when they hear something similar from someone else (preferably not connected to the first person they heard it from) in their social network.

This is provided there isn't an opposing group saying "high quality audio is nonsense". This group would be just as effective as the first. It shows that if you're a 'minority' the last thing you can afford is fighting amongst yourselves, a point Jason and others made.

And my cognitive colleagues strongly support the effectiveness of memorable names like "Schiit"

Latest part of the story is legit. I've been telling all sorts of people about the benefit of high quality audio without trying to be overly nerdy about it, and with a name like Schiit, I've had quite a few people ask what it was all about.

 

[rmullins08]

  Grado RA1, 50¢ IC in a block of wood for $350 

That might not be a great value but you can't argue with the SR60/80 for bang for the buck

 

[walfredo]

Amother great piece, @Jason Stoddard.  Thanks for sharing such insightful writing with us.
 
Regarding Pono, I am still surprised how much backlash it got right at head-fi.  Others DAPs similarly spec'ed and priced are mostly loved (e.g. Fiio X5. iBasso D90, D100).  Any idea why even among audiophiles Pono is hated?

 

[OddE]

 
Regarding Pono, I am still surprised how much backlash it got right at head-fi.  Others DAPs similarly spec'ed and priced are mostly loved (e.g. Fiio X5. iBasso D90, D100).  Any idea why even among audiophiles Pono is hated?

 
-If I were to guess, I would say the incredible hyperbole from NY and associates has to take a significant part of the blame - seriously, it was marketed almost as if going from a conventional system to the Pono was as big a transition as going from wax cylinders to CD. Obviously, the Pono fell a bit short of this when it was finally released.
 
However, that is probably a discussion best left for another thread; I am sure it will be possible to find a Pono thread somewhere in the forums...

 

[Jason Stoddard]

2015 Chapter 5:
A Life in the Day Of…
 
So, this is how it goes on a typical day, circa March 2015, at Schiit Audio. It’s a long way from the garage operation we were only a few years ago, but it’s still a small, lean company, with lots of day-to-day, well, schtuff…
 
“Hey, everyone, I’m here,” I say, as I come in the door, usually around nine o’clock.
 
Alex’s sitting at his desk, literally right next to the door. “Hey, did you order the transformers for the Valhalla 2s? The boardhouse says they don’t have any.”
 
I frown. “The boardhouse is smoking their lawn.”
 
 “I’ll have them look again,” Alex says, through a groan. “Oh, and they got back to us with some Yggdrasil shortages on the first run, but I don’t know if we can use alts to Mike’s BOM.”
 
“Send him an email.”
 
“It’d be better to get an answer before he looks at his email at 2,” Alex says.
 
I sigh. “I’ll look at the BOM, but Mike’s the final word on anything critical.”
 
Alex nods. He sends the BOM to me as I head upstairs to my office. Rina’s already in the bullpen area, in a jumbled mess of a workspace separated from Schiit proper by alterating teal- and blue-colored trade show drapery. Above her desk is a big banner that reads, “Twilight’s Fancy.” She subleases space from Schiit—most of the completely useless upstairs section of the company (imagine carting, say, Ragnaroks up and down the stairs all day.)
 
All around her are racks, piles, desks, and drawers full of billions of shiny ribbon clamp ends, bits of ribbon, half-done experiments, finished products waiting to be boxed, and she’s already cursing at Amazon.
 
“Look at this! They lost my shipment again! And on the other one they’re saying that I had eight 10mm velvet and two satin, but there was 20 of each, gawd, it’s like shipping it into the cornfield!”
 
“Have you talked to them?” I ask.
 
Rina rolls her eyes. “It’s like talking to the wall.”
 
“But have you?”
 
“Of course! It doesn’t help.”
 
“But they pay you for lost stuff, right?” I ask, trying to calm her down.
 
“Eventually,” Alex calls, from downstairs. He and Rina commiserate quite a bit about Amazon craziness.
 
“I gotta check and see if I ordered Valhalla 2 transformers,” I say, heading for my office.
 
“You just told Alex you did,” Rina says, accusingly.
 
“Best to be sure.” So I duck in my office and check to see if I ordered the transformers.
 
I did. I breathe a sigh of relief. Alex does a lot of the ordering, but both Mike and I do a lot of the more critical parts, like transformers and chassis and boards. And yeah, we miss things. Most of the time running a small company is about a pile of details. Eventually, the theory is that you can move most of the detail-y, day-to-day stuff on to more focused and competent people, but it always seems like that day is perpetually “another hire or two away.”
 
And, you know what? This isn’t a bad thing. I’ve seen more companies destroyed by growing too fast than almost anything else. You gotcher venture fundin here, so it’s time to go out and get a fancy office and three hunnert employees and everything will work itself out, right? Everyone just needs to follow your brilliant leadership, and presto, it’s a money machine! Except it usually doesn’t happen that way.
 
But enough yammering about that. Let’s go back a few hours, because my Schiit day actually starts a bit earlier than 9.
 
 
Erase, Rewind
 
I get up around 6 every morning and walk—a fairly vigorous walk, about a half mile down a steep hill to the Chuys by our house, then back up to the house again.
 
I could use the typical rah-rah CEO excuse about how walking clears my mind, allows me to think about what’s ahead, plan and strategerize and all that jazz. And sometimes I do. But it isn’t really about that. It’s about an overall lifestyle change, one that started about a year ago, when I discovered I had high blood pressure.
 
Yeah, I know, probably not surprising. But it did get me off my ass. And I’m getting near to being able to discontinue my blood pressure meds, due to ongoing lifestyle change.
 
Yes, you do have choices in your life. This is one of mine.
 
Anyway, after my walk, the first thing I do is really what you’d call a “survey of the universe.” I check in on customer service emails, I drop in at Head-Fi and some other forums, and generally see what’s going on in the very small and focused world of high-end desktop audio. Most of the time, I don’t have to really act on anything, though sometimes I respond to threads.
 
Fun fact: If you see a response from me at this time, you can be guaranteed I’m sober, which may not be entirely true in the evening.
 
Why is this the first thing I do in the morning?
 
Because it’s important.
 
Because I have to know what’s going on in our market.
 
Me.
 
Not “the marketing manager,” or “the operations guy.” Me. That’s the reality of a small business. You don’t have many people to push things down on.
 
This morning, the threads about the switches on the back of Schiit gear have reached a fever pitch. Now some people are accusing us of being incompetent engineers again and saying it’s a safety hazard.
 
So I step in and post why, although it seems simple to armchair engineers, switches really ain’t gonna be happening on our products anytime soon. Of course, I’m polite, because, you know what, front switches are more convenient, and in some far distant future, they may happen, but when my first thought is “how the hell you gonna get that damn switch in there with the transformer’s fat ass sitting right where it needs to be,” well, there’s reality for you.
 
Then it’s some emails—order confirmations from new vendors, requests for wire transfers for some parts, a couple of personal notes, stuff like that.
 
On this morning, there’s an email from a big-name sound engineer—I mean, really astoundingly big, you’d know the studio he works for—asking if he could come by and give Yggdrasil a listen.
 
Inwardly, I groan. Yggys are at a premium. We have two 0.96 versions, two 0.99 versions, and neither Mike nor Dave nor I want to give them up. And two are going out to early listeners posthaste.
 
But…the guy was very nice, and not assuming anything. So I send him an email that goes something like:
 
Wow, I wish we could, but we really only have two final engineering samples, and they’re going out to reviewers shortly.
 
But if you can come by sometime in the next couple of days, we may be able to do something.
 
I’m copying Mike to see if we can make it happen.
 
After that, I do a little engineering at the home workstation—just a final tweak on a new prototype board. The big-time board work really needs hours of uninterrupted time. Mornings ain’t that. But you are fresh, and that makes it easier to see mistakes.
 
From there, it’s the proverbial schiit-shower-shave-shinola, then into work…
 
 
Back to My Office
 
On one wall of my office, I have a large whiteboard. On that whiteboard is a list of every product we have planned for the year, and condensed notes about what we need to do for each product to make it happen.
 
This morning, I start by erasing the Yggdrasil Owner’s Manual part of the list. Then I groan as I see the Yggdrasil Photos item. Yeah. We still need photos. And if Big-Name-Audio-Engineer-Guy stops by, that makes the logistics of getting photos even worse.
 
I add that to my current paper list, with a note: urgent.
 
Yes, I still do paper lists. In some ways, I am quite dinosauric.
 
On the desk is the latest prototype for the Schiit (redacted). It’s one of two prototypes, and a real “production qualifier candidate.” It had been working yesterday before I took it home. When I turned it on, though, it wouldn’t unmute, and one transformer got very hot (never a good sign).
 
So I had to fix that prototype…as well as the other, earlier prototype, which had developed a nasty DC offset problem after running it for a few weeks with no issues.
 
Sigh. Engineering really is about a lot of little things, too.
 
First, I start working on the later prototype. It had been working, so it was probably something wrong with the solder. 4-layer, thick copper boards really, really suck when it comes to hand-soldering surface-mount parts, and sometimes you don’t get everything stuck down to ground…and if that happens to be a bias reference, well, things can really really suck.
 
And yep, that’s it…a couple of diodes had never really been soldered down to ground. They’d made good enough contact so that the thing worked on the bench, then had come unstuck during the trip back to the house. Boom. That had taken out some other parts as well.
 
After some disassembly, reassembly, and more persuasive soldering, the latest prototype was done and working…just in time for Mike to come in.
 
“Hey, is that the (redacted?)” Mike asks, plopping himself down on one of the damn-uncomfortable guest chairs in my office. Hey, they were free.
 
“Yep, it is.”
 
“Does it work?”
 
“Yep!”
 
Mike brightens. “Cool! I want something new to listen to.”
 
“Hey, I haven’t even heard it yet!”
 
“You’ve been listening to two prototypes of this for the last three months,” Mike grumped.
 
“Two prototypes that were either supremely messed up, or only kinda messed up, not something we’re actually gonna think about making,” I tell him.
 
And they had been very screwed up. One had whole sections that didn’t work, and about a half pound of parts stuck randomly on the board. The second one only had a few tacks, but had a transformer that was too weak to get things into regulation.
 
“Come on, hook a fella up!” Mike says.
 
I sigh. “Okay. Take it. But I’ll need it back. The new transformer is a bit weak.”
 
“I thought you fixed that?”
 
“I did. The latest version—the one that doesn’t buzz—un-fixed it.”
 
Aside: take nothing for granted. Nothing.
 
“Argh,” Mike groans. “When does it come out of regulation?”
 
“About one-ten.”
 
Mike nods. “That’s fine, we’re actually a little high on the AC side.” He grabs the (redacted) to take it out to the car.
 
“I want it back!” I yell after him.
 
And groan, realizing I still have the earlier proto to fix.
 
 
Downstairs Rounds
 
I’m isolated upstairs, with only Rina and Tyler nearby, so I make it a point to go downstairs several times a day.
 
Aside: I also have a desk downstairs in the tech area that I use for tweaking, repairs, and collaboration with Mike and Dave—though most of the Mike and Dave stuff is moving to Mike’s new downstairs office. I am envious of his desks, because they’re big heavy industrial stuff you could set engine blocks on.
 
Before I can go downstairs, Tyler stops me. “I need your hand.”
 
 “That could be a really scary statement,” I tell him.
 
Tyler rattles a stack of checks and hands me a pen.
 
“What, you can’t forge my signature yet?” I ask.
 
Tyler smirks, probably thinking, Anyone can forge that lame scribble.
 
I sign the checks and head downstairs before Tyler can come up with something interesting to talk about. That’s the problem with (very scary smart) philosophy guys—you can get started talking about the whys of stuff…and get very deep, very quickly.
 
Tony’s at his desk in the tech area, a barely-controlled chaos of boards in static wrappers and stacks and stacks of boxes with more boards piled to the ceiling. On his monitor is a video of some tech chick talking about the latest Android phones.  On the desk is a Microchip programming puck.
 
“What’s it today, Tony?” I ask.
 
“Ubers,” Tony says, gesturing at the puck. Modi 2 Ubers have an onboard microprocessor that needs programming. “About a billion of them.”
 
“That’s a good thing,” I say. We’d just narrowly averted backorder on the Ubers a few days before. There are certain products we simply can’t let go out of stock.
 
“I’ve been thinking,” Tony said. “We could plug in an external drive to our show router and use that at CanJam.”
 
“With the tablets as clients?”
 
“Right.”
 
I frown. “If the hotel doesn’t block it, like the last show.”
 
Tony nodded. “Uh-huh. We still have the SD cards. But if we can add a drive, we can have a lot more music.”
 
“Let’s set it up here,” I say. “See if it works with all 8 clients running uncompressed. If that works, we take it to the show as ‘plan A.’ If it doesn’t work at the show, the SD cards are ‘plan B.’”
 
“Will do,” Tony says, and goes back to programming Modis.
 
And, you know what? Tony will do it. He—and Denise on the Centric side—make sure our shows go flawlessly. And that’s in addition to doing first test on every board that comes through our doors—and many of the repairs.
 
Yep, everyone wears a lot of hats.
 
The thing is, Tony really, really enjoys the tech stuff…and he really enjoys shows. Maybe the whole tech thing is really just to fill the time in-between.
 
I head over to the other side, where Jesse is working on Ragnaroks, and cursing. Behind him are the burn-in racks, full of Bifrosts at the moment. To his side are Eddie and Miles’ desks—our two main assemblers for the majority of our products. They aren’t there, of course. They usually only come in at night. Maybe they’re vampires. I don’t care. They make good stuff.
 
Eddie’s desk is clean and orderly, with only boxes of boards to assemble on its surface. All around the desk is customized with tiki heads, little weird figurines, old coffee makers, vintage prints, and a hundred other little nicknacks that make it like home. The walls are painted black, because Eddie wanted it that way…and did it himself. Miles’ desk is similarly bare, the only ornamentation an ancient Silvertone guitar amp and a vintage Fender. Miles and Eddie both play, sometimes, at night. Miles once asked me if it was OK, and I just laughed and told him, “We’re an audio company, someone should be a musician around here.”
 
“How goes it?” I ask Jesse.
 
“Ragnarok,” Jesse says, shaking his head.
 
“Yeah, they are a pain,” I agree. And they are. They are our hardest product to build. Which is why Jesse, our Quality Manager, oversees it—and does a ton of the hands-on work. They have to be right.
 
“When’s the next run coming in?” Jesse asks. “We’re getting thin.”
 
“Soon,” I say. “I know they’re running some of the boards right now, and they have all the kits.”
 
“Tell ‘em to hurry,” Jesse says.
 
I go forward into the sound check area, where Chris and Olivia are assembling Fullas. Eddie and Miles hate the tiny screws and fiddly assembly, so they do it. Behind them are carts of Magni 2s for sound check and another cart of various returns that need to be re-qualified for B-stock sale.
 
“How go the wars?” I ask.
 
“Great,” Olivia says brightly. She always seems happy to be here. Alex found her through Chris—she’s his girlfriend. Despite this, or maybe because of this, they work really well together.
 
“Can’t complain,” Chris says. “But when do the new Fullas come in.”
 
“Soon,” I say. “Maybe. Ask Alex. It’s not my fault.”
 
The pair laugh, and I go to the quietest office in the building—Bill’s Zone of Silence. Bill is our original sound check guy, and also perhaps the pickiest human being on the planet. If there’s something wrong, he’ll hear it. If there’s a ding or a scratch, he’ll mark it as B-stock unmercifully. He listens to damn near everything we make at Asgard 2 level and above—and much of the Magnis, Modis, Manis, and whatnot. His office is a maze of sources—phono, CD, computer, portable, etc. On either side of his desk are Emotiva Stealth 8s. Above him is a rack of headphones. On the desk are stickers showing headphones killed by defective products. Beyond him is a wall of shame—a rack of B-stock that needs to be sold. I groan inwardly, knowing I need to make some listings for it on the Schiit site. We don’t have everything set up for B-stock yet. Blame me.
 
(And, now that I’ve said it, I’ll have it up this week. Promise.)
 
“Hey Bill, how’s it sounding?”
 
“Good,” Bill says, taking off his headphones. “Do you need me to do something?”
 
I shake my head. “Nope, just saying hi.”
 
“Hi.” Bill slips the headphones back on.
 
And that’s the way it should be. Bill’s our resident Card-Carrying Audiophile, really really serious about gear. He’s the best guy to be listening. By far.
 
From there, I circle back to the finished goods area. Alex and Amy are packing the orders for the day. Since it’s a Monday, it’s an insane time—all the orders over the weekend fill up several large rollable racks, a couple of which are dedicated to FedEx, and a couple more for USPS. During December and January, it’s even crazier, but even in February and March, the pace is pretty brisk…in fact, this year, we’re up over 40% to date, even with limited product that makes stocking everything at Amazon problematic. On some days, Laura comes in to help, but usually she’s a remote employee, silently taking care of returns, exchanges, and other order-related stuff, so Alex and Amy can focus on shipping.
 
“So, we have a new possible deal,” Alex tells me, before I can say anything. “There’s a new FedEx aggregator, part of the SCV economic development corp, that says they have great rates, better than ours.”
 
“And?” I ask.
 
“And they are better.” Alex says, looking a little uncomfortable.
 
“But?”
 
“But I don’t know what we give up if we go with them. Like, what happens with lost packages? Returns?”
 
“Do we have to ship from their warehouse?”
 
“No, but—“
 
“—But you gotta look into it a bit more,” I finish for him.
 
“Right.”
 
“No worries,” I say. “If it makes sense, do it. If it doesn’t, don’t.”
 
Alex sighs and looks relieved. I don’t know why. He’s the Director of Operations. Without Alex, things won’t happen. It would be a very bad day. He has carte blanche to do what’s right. And I have total confidence in his decisions.
 
Aside: David Ogilvy, the ad magnate, used to give his management a gift of Russian nesting dolls, to make the point that if you hire people who aren’t as capable as yourself, your prospects will only get smaller and smaller—but if you hire people more capable than yourself, the company grows and grows. Alex is a lot better at I am at the things that keep the company running.
 
“Alex,” Amy interrupts. “Shipping.”
 
“Yeah, yeah,” Alex says, looking at me apologetically. “It’s Monday.”
 
I grin. “Go do what you gotta do.”
 
Again, the theme remains: everyone wears a lot of hats. And everyone at Schiit I have complete confidence in. This is the only formula that makes sense, when you’re not a 20,000-employee juggernaut.
 
Hell, I’d argue it’s the only formula that makes sense, period…it’s just that in big organizations, it’s a lot easier to hide in the team. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen situations where 2 people do all the work of a 10-person department. I’ve seen it so many times that I believe it’s the norm. Hopefully someone will prove me wrong.
 
Mo is sitting silently, listening to music as he’s packing Modi 2s. He doesn’t say much, but he’s a critical part of the whole…silently making sure things go in boxes, a necessary part of a company, well, making things.
 
This is how it works.
 
 
Back To Broken Schiit
 
One round downstairs complete, I go back upstairs and cross my arms, looking at the broken (redacted.) Mike has gone on an errand somewhere with the production qualifier, and might not be back. It doesn’t matter. He does a lot of his work out of his house, where he won’t be bothered by distractions like high-speed internet access. And he and Dave might be back for one of their night-owl sessions working on firmware. Schiit is really a round-the-clock kinda deal.
 
Now, my broken (redacted) had been working just fine…until I’d put it in the first article chassis. Had I shorted something in the process? Or had I just jostled something out of place? It was entirely possible I had the same kind of solder problem as the production qualifier.
 
But no. A quick disassembly and some prods with a screwdriver proved that everything was sound.
 
And yet…it would sit and bounce from half a volt of offset to minus a half a volt, and go on like that for several minutes. When it was warm, it was fine.
 
It didn’t make any sense. I resoldered a few things, kinda at random, hoping for some change. No dice. I went over the whole thing with a 10x magnifier. Nothing. I ran it on the FLIR. Nothing strange. No dead devices, no crazy temps.
 
What had changed? Nothing but the case…
 
…but had I used the same (redacted?)
 
No. That had changed. I swapped the (redacted) out, and boom, it worked! I fired up the Stanford and checked performance against the stored values. It was running a bit better than before.
 
Cool. I now had a working (redacted.) Mike still had the latest one, but I had one with a working transformer…other than the hum. Ah well. I added a note to my list: send an email to the transfo guys and let them know we need another prototype.
 
 
And So It Goes
 
Another trip downstairs. Some weird repairs that Tony can’t figure out. Tweaking of a production step on the Ragnarok. A quick change to a new chassis. That’s what most of what I do at Schiit…
 
…well, that is, in addition to chassis drawings, silkscreen artwork, manuals, product descriptions (fun fact: they’re usually written before the product is real, and frequently before there’s a working prototype—and then revised to reality, of course, if the product comes to light), sending stuff for photography, laying out ads and brochures, and the general marketing-y stuff like that.
 
It sounds simple. Something needs done, you do it. Or find someone who can do it better. And if they’re not available, you pick it up. Or if you’re not available, they pick it up. This is the rhythm of a small business, totally different than the structured world of a large corporation.
 
I was once speaking at a marketing forum in a fancy venue, where they put you up in a fancy room and feed you fancy food and have fancy things like formal nights and stuff like that, and met a woman who worked for a large pharmaceutical company. When she heard that I was a speaker and learned I had an agency, her eyes lit up.
 
“That’s what I’ve always wanted to do,” she said, breathily. “I’ve always wanted to have my own company.”
 
I laughed. “It’s not so much about having your own company, as your company having you.”
 
“What do you mean?” she asked.
 
“I mean, well, let’s put it this way. You’re the head of marketing, right?”
 
“Right.”
 
“So if you need to send a logo to a trade show company—“
 
She shook her head. “The staff does that.”
 
“Or if you need to print up a bunch of brochures—“
 
“Staff.”
 
“Changes to the website?”
 
She crossed her arms. “I’m mostly strategy, really.”
 
I nodded. I knew how this would go. I could be polite and say, yeah, you get the right people, you’ll be fine. But I’d already started going down the honest path, so why not keep on going?
 
“The thing is, when you’re in a small company, there’s nobody to fall back on. Everything lands on your shoulders.”
 
“But if I set it up right…”
 
“No. That doesn’t work. Do it. Learn it. Then hand it off. Maybe. Maybe you still want to keep some of it.”
 
She frowned, clearly thinking I was crazy. “And that’s what you did?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“But…what if I don’t want to do all the work?”
 
I smiled. “You have an excellent career. It sounds like you have a great support network. Why would you want to give all that up?”
 
“But…” she stopped herself, looking nonplussed. “The freedom...?”
 
I laughed, long and hard. “Yes. And that freedom is hard, hard work.”
 
To this day, I don’t know if she ever started her own business. If she did, I hope it worked out…and that she was very successful. But there are really no shortcuts. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
 
Now, of course this isn’t a complete story. I didn’t go into the rest of the day, or into the geek audio engineering in-jokes and good-natured ribbing that accompany Mike and Dave’s time at the shop, nor into my evening at home, which usually has me sitting in front of the computer, working on one of the latest boards, or tweaking ones that aren’t quite done yet, or showing off the latest prototypes for Rina when we’re home—and having her shake her head or give me the thumbs-up, or waking up at 5AM with a great idea for a new ad direction for Schiit, or answering some more emails and posts before I go to bed (and may have been drinking…), or the sketches of new ideas I make, or the long talks I have with Mike about future product plans and company direction, or the ongoing discussions I’ve had with some industry guys about some ideas to really shake things up. But I think you get the picture.
 
I hope you enjoyed this little tale…of a life in the day of Schiit.

 

[Mr Rick]

Thanks for the view of life in the fast lane. Now...........................don't you have Schiit to do??  LOL

 

[tonykaz]

One typical Day in your life,
 
Lucky you.  
  I say this because you aren't having to visit some distant place while trying to keep all those plates in the air, you get to live close by the shop, you might even be able to bicycle to work and most important: you don't have to answer to some higher-up that has a box filled with hand-cuffs limiting your solution options.
  Still, I'll bet you live a 7 Day operation, there never will be a vacation for you unless you do a Show in Europe where they will treat you like a King ( they believe in respect ) but after a few Days it's back to work and the Salt Mine ( the workshop ) .  
 I have lived your life for Decades, reading your words had me feeling like I was in the shop with you, working on things, the day to day work life of freeing up the jammed-gears.
 
 Tony in Michigan
 
 
 
ps. thanks for mentioning the Power switch, again!   

 

[GloryUprising]

Re: The switches.
 
Have you considered a long mechanical rod/lever connecting the back switch to the front... Kinda like what Senn does with their amps?
 
Literally what it sounds like; the actual switch is solder on near the back where it currently is, but have some kind of mechanical way of activating it that near the front?

 

[Mr Rick]

  Re: The switches.
 
Have you considered a long mechanical rod/lever connecting the back switch to the front... Kinda like what Senn does with their amps?
 
Literally what it sounds like; the actual switch is solder on near the back where it currently is, but have some kind of mechanical way of activating it that near the front?

 

[GloryUprising]

 

  Re: The switches.
 
Have you considered a long mechanical rod/lever connecting the back switch to the front... Kinda like what Senn does with their amps?
 
Literally what it sounds like; the actual switch is solder on near the back where it currently is, but have some kind of mechanical way of activating it that near the front?

 
Really? Sorry didn't feel like digging thru 371 pages.

 

[jodgey4]

We don’t have everything set up for B-stock yet. Blame me.
 
(And, now that I’ve said it, I’ll have it up this week. Promise.)

Sure, we believe you.

 

[StanD]

  Re: The switches.
 
Have you considered a long mechanical rod/lever connecting the back switch to the front... Kinda like what Senn does with their amps?
 
Literally what it sounds like; the actual switch is solder on near the back where it currently is, but have some kind of mechanical way of activating it that near the front?

You can always activate it by hand, just as I do. 

 

[bearFNF]

Switch-gate continues....