There are many quite superb things about The Hardline, of course, but there is one thing that is absolutely perfect. One thing that should never, ever be changed. One thing that represents the ideal marriage of performance, design, architecture, engineering, construction, and feng shui. What is this paragon of that which cannot be improved?
Because The Hardline custom studios are possessed of exactly that combination of soundproofing, fiberglass wall stuffing, glass, sheetrock, wall posters, and discarded I Fratelli pizza boxes so arranged that when something amusing takes place, during those moments of precious on-air silence, originating in some distant room, pitched at a decibel level that could not be any more perfect if Glyn Johns were twiddlin' and tweakin', one can detect, just barely, the irresistible chortling of Michael Gruber.
There is no jollier sound in the universe than Grubes's throaty larfing, but it would not be nearly so jolly if it were one VU meter tick one way or the other. Bleeding through the exquisitely-composed walls of The Hardline custom studio, it's one of those sounds, like a bull's-eye fart drop, that one cannot hear without laughing. Absolutely. Dead. Solid. Perfect.