Featured Essay: Mike Rastiello on Building His Record Set Up

by Mike Rastiello

Early on, when my now-wife and I started living together, I told her in no uncertain terms that she should allow me to buy a record player.

I knew who I was and what I was like (and still am), and I knew I’d go off the deep end. Quickly. 

Ali laughed at my comment, and life went on.

Then, one day in June of 2011, I was at Half Priced Books, waiting for them to tell me how many pennies they’d give me for a few boxes of books and DVDs, and I was pursuing the used record section. They had a copy of Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen. 

There are a few music things people generally know about me:

1. I unapologetically love ska.
2. The Red Hot Chili Peppers are terrible.
3. Bruce Springsteen is king.

I bought the record. I didn’t have a record player. I bought it as “art” to display in my home office.

Fast forward to 2013, another favorite band of mine, Queens of the Stone Age, released …Like Clockwork, and a deluxe vinyl version was announced. I still didn’t have a record player, but I needed to have this record.

In late 2014, my wife and I moved into a brand-new house we had built. As we settled into the house over those first few months, I realized that we had room for a record player setup, and I began stalking Craigslist for record players, receivers, and speakers for sale. This time was slightly before the big vinyl boom, but only by a little. However, finding quality used gear for a decent price was still possible.

I was working from home at the time, so it was easy to check listings a few times a day, and seeing as we lived in between San Antonio and Austin, I had a relatively equal drive to either city, so I was checking both locations.

I had an idea of what I wanted. Something vintage. The brand didn’t matter, but I wanted something previously loved. Something that I could continue showing love towards.

I scoured Craigslist. A friend who had just gotten his set up running was helping me look, advising me on what to look for.

It was a waiting game now. Wait for a listing. Read through it quickly - did it meet my barest of requirements? Did it have a counterweight and anti-skate? Was it cool looking? Was it clean enough? And that was just for the record player. I also had searches going for speakers and a receiver.

If the answer to most of those was “yes,” I emailed the lister about it.

Sometimes, I wasn’t fast enough, and someone got dibs before me. Sometimes, the person never emailed me back.

I thought I’d have something built within a week or two.The universe had other plans.

A month later, I got lucky on a late 1970s Yamaha receiver. The seller gave me their address, and I drove to probably the sketchiest apartment in San Antonio. It was a dark, damp room; oh man, there was the receiver. They still had speakers set up to it to show me that it worked. I plugged in my iPod into the AUX in port, a hilarious meeting of technology decades apart.

I scrolled to Mr. Bungle’s Disco Volante. Track 4.

I don’t know when or why, but “Desert Search for Techno Allah” became the song with which I tested speakers and audio setups.

Press play.

Sound emerges from the speakers. The receiver works. I unplugged everything, handed the guy $20, and left there as quickly as possible.

I now have a third of my setup complete.

A week later, my friend sent me a link for speakers. Really good speakers. I emailed the guy, and he responded immediately. He wanted to meet in 20 minutes in a parking lot immediately off the interstate. 

When I pulled up, I thought, “How the hell am I going to listen to these speakers and decide if I want to buy them with all this highway noise?”

Well, this guy was a pro. He bought old gear, fixed them up, and flipped them on Craigslist. He had a van with so much gear and had the speakers hooked up to test for me. I climbed in and was able to plug my iPod in and blasted “Desert Search for Techno Allah.” It’s a wonder I wasn’t kidnapped as a child.

The speakers sounded terrific. He told me that he bought them from a Japanese kid who was selling his dad’s stuff after his dad died. The kid told the old man that his father was a huge music fan, and when he moved to the United States from Japan, he brought his setup over with him, including two AKAI ST-201 speakers that were “only available for sale in Japan”. “That dead Japanese guy and you,” the guy said, “you’ll be the only owners of these speakers.”

This is what I wanted. Stuff that was previously owned. Previously loved. This mystery-dead Japanese guy and I enjoying the sweet sounds of music on the same set of speakers.

I don’t know if that story is even a tiny bit true, but I don’t care. I love it. I think about that dead Japanese guy regularly when I’m listening to my records. I hope he appreciates that the music is still playing.

I paid the guy $25 and took the speakers home.

Now I had two-thirds of my setup complete.

There have been close calls on record players during this time, but I knew the record player was going to take a while. I dug in.

Weeks of scouring. Record players are sold as quickly as they are getting posted. 

Then, someone emailed me. It was a guy who was a reseller. He’d hit up estate sales, garage sales, whatever. He bought and sold just about everything. I had emailed him about a record player that didn’t end up working out, but he said he’d email me as soon as he got something in. He sent me some photos. It looked okay, but it needed some work and needed to be cleaned. I ended up passing.

Two weeks later, he emailed me again. He still had the record player and was looking to offload it, so he dropped the price. I agreed to look at it. It didn’t have a belt, so he couldn’t play anything, but if it spun, it would work.

When I arrived, he took the plate off and showed me the motor worked. The cleaning that the record player needed? It was cleaning off the previous belt, which had melted all over the inside under the plate. 

But it didn’t look like that hard of a job.

I paid him $40 and left.

I now had all of the components of my record player set up. I was so excited.

As soon as I got home, I started taking the top pieces off of the record player. Armed with paper towels, Goo Gone, and a scraper, I cleaned up the melted belt. It took a few hours, but I had successfully removed most of the old belt from the record player.

I ordered a new stylus and belt for the record player. Good speaker wire. I had a small bookcase with my setup and my small collection of records. I got everything plugged in, put it back together, and cleaned.

I was about to play my first record.

I knew what my first spin would be. Born to Run. When I bought it, I knew it was going to be the thing that would crack open Pandora’s Box and send me down a costly rabbit hole and hobby.

I pull the record out of the sleeve. Put it on the mat. Pull the lever to drop the tone arm.

And… Nothing happened. The tonearm won’t lower no matter what I do.

I tried reaching back out to the guy I bought it from, but like anything with Craigslist, it was buyer beware.

After a few days, I saw someone on a local forum posting about a guy near me who fixes busted stereo equipment. I got his contact info and fired off an email. To my surprise, he responded immediately and told me to stop by that weekend. I asked him what I could expect to pay for his help. He said, “Hey man, a case of Shiner Bock beer would be clutch.”

That Saturday, I loaded my record player and a case of Shiner in my car and drove out to Chad’s house in the middle of the woods in Canyon Lake. 

Right from the drop, he seemed like a Chad. He had a huge house, and there was old stereo equipment to repair or salvage for parts all over the main living area of the house.

He removed the dust cover, showed me how to clean off the scuff with a three-part cleaning system, and disappeared with the rest of the turntable while I did my best Karate Kid - wipe on, wipe off, cleaning the dust cover.

After about 15 minutes, he reemerged with the record player, hooked it up to a receiver and speakers, and put on an album to test. The tonearm lowered and raised as it should. I was beyond ecstatic.

He helped me fix a few other things, and as I was about to leave, I asked again if I could give him some money for his time and trouble. He said, “Nah, the beer is great, and it’ll give me something to drink for the rest of the weekend.” He went on to say that he likes helping young “kids” (I was 34) from the nearby college get into the hobby and help them repair old gear.

We need a lot more people like Chad in the world.

I rushed home, hooked everything back up, and put Born to Run. I sat down in my chair and let the opening piano and harmonica of “Thunder Road” fill the room and envelop me in sound.

That was it. I was hooked.

Almost ten years and over 1,000 records later, it’s part of my identity. My music room (what should be a formal dining room) is one of the first things that people see when they come to our house. I love seeing people browse through my collection, pull out a record, and ask with big eyes if I can play it for them. My friend, me, and that dead Japanese guy, listening to records.

Mike has been a lifelong music fanatic since the ripe old age of 4 when he took his parents’ cassette of Billy Joel’s Greatest Hits—Volume I & Volume II and claimed it as his own. Forty years later, Mike remains a moody and opinionated music lover. His favorite bands include Bruce Springsteen, Queens of the Stone Age, The National, and Deftones. Mike lives in Austin, Texas, with his wife Ali, his dog Poppy, and his record collection.

He writes and curates a monthly newsletter and playlist that can be found at www.downbeat.fm. He is @mikerastiello on Bluesky, and his other socials can be found at mike.fail.

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