Spec
A language I long to speak.
“They’re Willans, custom made in British racing green,” enthused my dear friend as he gazed admiringly upon the limp seat harnesses resting upon the black leather interior of a vintage red Alfa Romeo, the one he built from scratch with a friend. “They make them in [name of the place I forgot as soon as he said it], so you know that hue is legit.”
“That’s awesome,” I offered (because it was fucking awesome), which landed with a dumb thud on the garage floor.
With palpable pride, he popped the hood to show me the engine his hands built. I tensed a bit, sensing what was likely to come next: a string of specifications, all very impressive sounding, connoting some meaning of the power of the steel and tubes coiled on the chassis before me, in a special and rare language I could not decode. And I would have two choices: nod solemnly at this incantation with feigned deep understanding, or ask inane questions groping for credibility but betraying only ignorance. Luckily, besides pointing out a few interesting details, my friend was more inclined to silently extol than explain. He then offered me another beer. One brewed at the brewery where he works part-time, having undergone a chemical and mechanical process I knew he could explain from start to finish, beginning with the selection of grain and hops, veering into a discussion of the best machinery to use for a particular brew, and ending at the point where the machine thingy (yup) errs and fills the glass bottle now in my hand with a little less beer than it should’ve, rendering that bottle untenderable and thus free for the brewery staff to take home and share with their noob friends.
Specification. It’s a language, a family of tongues with common features but splintered into innumerable dialects. It’s characterized by technical descriptors of mostly human-made things, heavy use of numbers, trademarks, and acronyms, and an enthusiastic embrace of pretension. And as I watched my friend shut the hood of his, again, hand-assembled car and took a swig of my beer, I realized despite being an adult American man with many hobbies and interests, I speak no spec.
I play the guitar. I’m a good enough autodidact by most ears’ measure, but kinda shit for someone who’s been playing for over twenty years. The deficiencies in my playing ability are matched by my utter lack of knowledge of the language of Guitar Player. I’m not just talking about music theory or knowing the difference between a Asus4 and an Adim7 (I probably couldn’t hit those chords without either a prolonged struggle or a chord diagram). I’m talking about guitar specs. I know the barest. The same is true for everything that surrounds the instrument: amplifiers, pedals, pickups, audio interfaces, recording software (I know the acronym DAW but struggle to remember what it stands for), hell even the strings. I couldn’t tell you the gauge of strings I prefer playing. I just buy what feels right. I own two guitars, a Gretsch electric and an Alvarez acoustic. I’ll try to describe the former without cheating: it’s a 5220 Electrojet with a single cutaway (Answer revealed: it’s a G5220 Electromatic Jet single-cut with V-stop tail and Dual Black Top Broad'Tron pickups. Sure). This despite not only playing for two decades but also watching hours and hours of footage of guitarists describing their “rigs.” Like this video featuring one of my favorite guitarists, the guy who inspired me to pick up the instrument, Mark Tremonti:
I understand fifteen percent of that at best.
I admire watches. I own a few great pieces, mostly by my dad’s hand-me-down generosity. I follow r/watches to ogle at beautiful pieces and read enthusiasts describe their “action” and other specifications. I know the brand name of the watches I wear and can probably tell you where they’re from, but that’s about it. I love watches. I have a Seiko. I love Seikos. I want to collect more. I pine for them. I cannot describe them with any measure of expertise.
I’m good enough with computers to root around in their digital guts and troubleshoot a minor problem, with a degree of proficiency slightly above the average person. I have no idea how to describe my computer to you, other than to say it’s *glances to the side* a Dell desktop computer. I’m a pretty excellent cook, and handy enough with a knife, but couldn’t tell you the difference between a German knife and a Japanese one, or which is best for which…style of…chopping?
I qualified on a Glock 9mm before deploying, learning how to disassemble, reassemble, load, aim, fire, and clear it. That was seven years ago. I can’t tell you much about guns, including the model of the gun I qual’d on.
The same is true for nearly anything I have an interest in. Cameras. Pianos and synthesizers. Speakers. Record Players. Pens. Bicycles and motorcycles. Woodworking. Suits and shoes.
Lest you think I’m an incurious bore, believe me when I say I can hold down plenty of conversations about myriad topics. Interested in learning more about composting? How much time do you have? I can teach you what you need to know to be a knowledgeable fan of the sport of hockey, which I’ve been watching since I’ve been alive. I’ve recently taken to studying the discipline of heraldry, and I’m designing a custom achievement. I can hold court on cinema, music, poetry, books, podcasts, television shows, all manner of art both high and pop. I write the most interesting Substack in the world. But no matter how much I can tell you about the ideal conditions for successful vermicompost, or how best to establish the forecheck, or what a “torse and mantle” are, these pursuits either don’t lend themselves to spec, or else I don’t speak their spec dialects. Composting is a biochemical process that doesn’t really require the kind of gear one can spec out about. As the dialogue around hockey dives deeper and deeper into advanced stats (PDO, GxA, etc.) (to say nothing of inscrutable gambling odds), I start to feel not like a guru but a shallowender. I have no idea how to blazon a coat of arms, an ancient spec dialect.
I really wonder if I ever will learn spec. It seems to require a level of patience and focus my attention-deficient brain can’t muster. I’m supremely bummed by this. I see the way someone’s eyes light up when they get the chance to converse in their preferred, secret language with a fellow enthusiast. I want that. I don’t want to be content to dabble. I want to signal I have expertise, in something, and that I’ve invested loads of time and energy to earn it. I want to share it with someone else, not in a mansplainy way, but in a way that conveys both a passion for the subject matter and for teaching it.
There are reasons to be wary of spec speakers (specers?). The mansplain caveat above is, I realize, a big tell. Spec can be a gatekeeper. (I should know about using language to gatekeep: I’m a lawyer. To read most legal documents is to discover how well lawyers justify their own existence. Still, I don’t consider “legalese” a spec dialect). In particular, spec tends to be male-coded, even if plenty of women speak it. I reckon that’s in large part due to men shutting women out of spaces where they can talk spec, or undermining them or trying to outdo them when they do speak spec. But spec seems, to me at least, so formative to many male friendships. Although my car guy/beer guy friend (who also had a career in automobile photojournalism and knows things about guns) and I are close, my ability to speak spec about cars or beer or guns would surely bring us even closer (thankfully though, he’s the kind of self-aware, multi-faceted person who has plenty else to talk about—like bass guitars).
Some spec speakers are imposters compensating for a lack of deep knowledge. We’ve all encountered the kind of person who decides to pick up a new hobby like photography, learns everything they can about the specifications of cameras, speaks spec fluently and incessantly, and yet can’t take one decent picture. So I don’t suggest fluency in spec equates to talent or wisdom. Still, it sounds cool. Sometimes even sexy. And really, what other reason is there to learn another language?
What spec dialects do you speak? How much time did you invest to learn it? What has the ability to speak it given you?
