Found, forgotten and dusty in an oft-overlooked secret alcove of Time Traveler last night, my good pal Scott straight up gave me this incredible beast: A Pioneer Laserdisc player, model number LD-V6000A from 1989. It’s admittedly not in sell-able condition (I’ll show why in a moment), or I would have cleaned it up, slapped a price tag on it for Scott and put it out for the world to admire. I certainly don’t need another Laserdisc player, but this is the exact kind of electronic I’m a sucker for.
The remote is loooong gone, and there doesn’t seem to be any way to fast-forward or rewind from the unit itself. I’d think those would be standard features for a player manufactured as late as 1989, but hell, I don’t know. Compared to VHS and Betamax VCRs, I don’t quite know the history of Laserdisc players as backwards and forwards as I probably should. Which is puzzling, because I’ve got mounds of useless information on pretty much everything else.
A quick internet search on the LD-V6000A brings up multiple mentions of it being an “industrial unit.” Is that a code word for “enormous SOB?” Because that’s what this thing is. Granted, Laserdisc players were never the smallest things in the world, but compared to my other LD units, this guy is somewhat bigger and considerably heavier, undoubtedly because those are consumer models. There go my hopes of using the LD-V6000A as a kite. It’s not as hernia-inducing as my Quasar VCR, but it’s certainly not something you’d want to juggle, either (supposing you were interested in having the world’s most-moronic circus act, that is.)
See, manufactured in 1989! Did you think I was lying? I wasn’t.
Somehow I didn’t notice the mention of “industrial” on the back until I was looking at this picture. How did I miss that? I should pay more attention to these things. So, what exactly constitutes an “industrial” Laserdisc player? Is it all the additional doo-dads on the back, heavier casing, A cord you’d need bolt cutters in order to sever? I assume this sort of thing was generally more available to businesses and schools, as opposed to what you could buy at your local electronics store? This is new territory for me, so please explain with patience and understanding, kindly reader.
(That last sentence just may be the most idiotic thing I’ve ever written on this blog.)
Cosmetically, the LD-V6000A isn’t in bad shape at all. A little cleaning and this sucker would be loaded, cocked and ready to rock. So, why wasn’t it suitable to be placed before a hungry public that you just know would be fighting tooth and nail over it?
Because upon pressing the appropriate button, the disc tray refuses to slide out. Now, I’ve had plenty of vintage electronics with motorized disc trays that nowadays require a little prompting on the user’s part to get movin’. It comes with the territory, and indeed, my second Laserdisc player (which was also my first actual working one) needed a little help to get going in that area. So, the fact that the LD-V6000A’s motorized disc tray isn’t operating at optimal performance isn’t that big of a detriment. A little prying should do the trick…
…Except that isn’t remotely enough. Nope, this disc tray won’t come out for anyone or anything. I mean, it really doesn’t want to work. Something in the mechanism must be full-on broken.
I’m not about to let a mere Laserdisc player dictate what I can and can’t do. So…
Throwing caution to the wind, I yanked on the tray with all mah might, negligible though my strength may be. And I tell ya, you’ve got to REALLY pull on the tray door before it’ll give up the ghost. Nevertheless, from the picture above, you can see I was successful. Me: 1, LD:
0. Makes me feel like a big man.
In all fairness, I knew all this before I even brought the thing home. We tried it out in the store, ripped the tray out of it’s residence, and so on and so on. And we did put an LD in it, and it did indeed sound as if it ran. So, taxation of my muscles aside, that was a good sign, I guess. Then again, you never really know for sure until you hook it up proper.
The problem there is that I don’t have the right cables to hook it up proper. Scroll back up and look at that pic of the back of the unit. I have AV cables for the audio outputs, but the picture output doesn’t use those. I wasn’t prepared to invest any more time or effort in this thing other than what was immediately available to me. So, I plugged the audio cables into the front of my VCR, figuring that if I heard sound, I’d call it a success.
There was a good chance that even if the player didn’t work properly beforehand, the sweet, sweet voice of Phil Collins would snap it back into shape right quick. Ideally, I would have busted out my Bruce Springsteen Video Anthology 1978-1988 disc for this purpose, but that would have required back-breakin’ disc diggin’, and my interest in this whole thing was waning far too seriously for that.
Against all odds (get it?! BWAHAWHAWHAW!!!) and to the shock of
millions dozens, I did indeed hear the appropriate sounds one would expect from a live Phil Collins Laserdisc. True, I couldn’t see the picture, but it didn’t sound like it was skipping or anything. Cautiously, I’ll file this one under “Workin’, yo.” I’d have never expected it to work, especially considering the motorized tray is all kinds of out-o’-order, but I guess it wasn’t an industrial strength LD player for nothing, huh?
There it be. It’s kind of a regal beast, ain’t it? Well, maybe “regal” isn’t the right description. I think “imposing” fits better. And what’s more imposing than a Laserdisc player that could easily flatten a car? I think next heavy snow, I’ll find a hill and use this thing as a sled.
Off in the distance, you’ll notice a portrait of Elvis, his visage watching over the LD-V6000A. It’s his birthday today, you know. I promise you I didn’t plan it that way, either. Twas just a happy coincidence.