Friday, Aug. 05, 1966
In a Merry Stereomobile
Destination: office. Driving time: Beethoven's Third Symphony, Tchaikovsky's First Piano Concerto, and, depending on traffic, two or three numbers by Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. Driver squiggles into bucket seat, straps on safety belt, injects stereotape cartridge into dashboard holder, and, to the engulfing strains of the 100-piece Boston Symphony, rolls away on wheels of song.
So it is in today's all-purpose stereo-mobiles. Thanks to its introduction into cars, the stereotape cartridge has become the most significant innovation in the $830 million-a-year record market since the advent of the LP in 1948. Four-track stereotape players for autos, sold mostly on the West Coast, have been available for about five years. Not until last September, when the Ford Motor Co. began offering a new eight-track player and cartridge--which crams up to 80 minutes of music on half the length of tape used in a four-track cartridge--did stereotapes begin booming. Lear Jet Corp. and RCA Victor developed the new cartridge and player. The eight-track sets sold so well (250,000 to date) that Chrysler recently introduced its own set, and General Motors and American Motors will follow with their units beginning with '67-model cars. Manufacturers expect to sell 630,000 eight-track sets this year, 1,500,000 next year.
Childproof. All this is rapidly changing the record business. The record companies theorize that once a motorist accumulates a stack of cartridges for his car, he will want to play them in his living room as well. Thus, the companies estimate that stereo cartridges will surpass today's sales of records within a few years. RCA Victor has so far sold 1,500,000 cartridges, and Columbia, Mercury, Decca and Capitol have recently brought out their eight-track-cartridge lines.
Unlike records, the cartridges are simple enough to be played by children without suffering scratches, dirt or bent needles. While an LP is designed to last for 75 playings, a tape will last five times that long. The new eight-track cartridge (price: from $4.95 to $10.95) is about the size and weight of a paperback book, requires no threading or rewinding. The driver can easily slip it into the dashboard player without taking his eyes off the road; it plays through four speakers--usually mounted in the front and rear doors--without interference from bumpy roads, tunnels, bridges or commercials. President Johnson has stereotape players in his airplane and most of his cars, favors dance music of the 1930s. Vice President Humphrey has one in his limousine, as does his wife Muriel in her auto. In Hollywood, you just aren't In unless your Rolls rolls to the tune of the tape.
Sonic Tonic. Since the enclosed interior of an auto serves as a kind of reverberating chamber, the sound envelops the listener as though he were sitting in the middle of the New York Philharmonic cello section. Indeed, the sound is so all-encompassing that, with the windows closed and the volume turned up to peak levels, it is difficult to tell if the horns are playing 1812 Overture or "Look out!" Though Safety Crusader Ralph Nader labels the tapes as "Just another step toward insulating the driver completely from the outside," the National Safety Council believes that stereo played at a normal volume is a tonic since "it helps keep the driver alert."
The recording companies are wide-awake to the marketing possibilities of the tapes. In December, RCA Victor will introduce "minimum concentration" language courses, plans later to bring out quiz games and storytelling tapes to pacify children on long trips. Doctors use the tapes to keep up with the medical news, traveling salesmen to hear pep talks from company executives. Editor William Buckley listens to Shakespeare's plays when driving to work; Jerry Lewis listens to scripts en route to the studio. Hundreds of players have been installed in powerboats and airplanes, as well as in funeral limousines, which broadcast hymns at the grave site. Meanwhile, back on the road, auto-tape buffs are happily decorating their windows with decals: "Ssh . . . I'm listening to stereo."
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