The Gawker

When I shopped for a motorized recliner, I rejected models with their own Internet Protocol address and built-in speakers. No need. I had already placed a smart speaker on an étagère beside the space where I had planned to put the chair. I’d have a smartphone in my hand and the room would be bathed in Wi-Fi.

After doing research online, I realized I must visit an actual showroom. Being able to kick the tires takes on added import when your butt and back are on the line for hours at a time. As I eased my body into the cushy firmness of one chair after another, I rejected models that were heated or came with massage settings. My goal wasn’t to be pampered as much as to acquire a comfortable piece of furniture on which to lean back and raise my feet. Once situated, I’d be able to read newspapers and magazines, listen to music, and watch TV. I might doze off, too, but that wasn’t my intent.

The model I chose came with a tail-like power cord and three pairs of buttons atop an armrest that raised or lowered the footrest and headrest and adjusted the lumbar support. The left armrest contained a three-position cupholder. When unoccupied by a beverage, it could accommodate a remote for my TV and another for the ceiling fan/light directly overhead. The chair contained two-way charging: wirelessly when the phone was inserted in the narrow charging well or by wire using the USB port. The latter might be used to charge earbuds. Raising the armrests revealed deep storage compartments. One side could be used to queue print sections; the other to save them for recycling.

The chair was delivered a week after purchase. It weighed as much as I did and was wide enough to accommodate a person of larger girth. My wife and I initially called it my “man” chair, but we stopped using the term since it wasn’t inclusive. Besides, the chair was equally appealing to dogs and cats. From daily use, I discovered the chair’s unstated ability to combine the best of the analog and digital worlds — the former epitomized by magazines, newspapers, and books, the latter by the wireless world. I loved clutching Sound & Vision in my hands rather than reading it on a screen. Similarly, I preferred the feel of The New York Times spread over my legs.

When coming across a worthy article, my habit was to find the same piece in the newspaper’s app on my phone, bookmark it, or email it to friends and colleagues who’d appreciate my thoughtfulness. I sometimes used my phone’s camera to lift a paragraph or blurb from the newsprint that would be otherwise lost on digital-only subscribers. I would upload the image to social media. “Look at how much ink the Times used to recreate the black orb that will be the sun during the coming eclipse,” I’d post.

Music critics in print almost always inspire me to talk to my smart speaker. Whether it’s reading their song picks of the year, a list of Grammy nominations, or Mike Mettler’s back-page Remaster Class column, I can’t help myself. I blurt out: “Hey, Google. Play ‘Out on the Weekend’ by Neil Young.” Drawing from a critic’s list in my hands, I voice-command song titles to perform out of thin air. My musical needs are met without stirring from the chair. A recliner in the 20th Century was never like this.

The obituary page is another reliable source for firing up the smart speaker. With so many band members from the classic rock era turning octogenarian, scarcely a week goes by without reading a headline like: “Mike Pinder, Founding Keyboardist of the Moody Blues, Dies at 82.” Without skipping a beat, I command my speaker to play the album Days of Future Passed. Next, I’m emailing the article link to Mettler with the comment: Who needed the London Festival Orchestra when you had Pinder playing the Mellotron? Tears are shed, never meaning to send.

If I were to review the chair in the serious manner that S&V appraises A/V products, I’d point out that in the matter of performance, the 11 seconds necessary to fully return the footrest to a position where I can stand up is much too long, especially if my ringing landline is out of reach. Also, for my mobile phone to charge wirelessly in the well, it must be placed with its speaker pointed downward, where the sound is muffled. That’s plain bad design. Also, my newest wallet case is a tad too thick to insert the phone in the well. Ouch.

Overall, the Signature Design by Ashley Power Recliner provides a very comfortable ride. But I must have been lulled into a dream state in the showroom because I went for the 5-year extended warranty — just in case I’d forgotten about a pen knife in my back pocket, and it slashed the upholstery. The one mishap, so far, has been knocking over a glass of red wine in the cupholder. Luckily, the liquid spilled onto the repelling surface of dark faux leather. The power buttons and dual charger were on the opposite armrest. That’s prudent design since the chair seat served as a buffer between beverage catastrophe and electricity.

Everyone needs a foundation upon which to indulge. A suitable recliner provides just that. Skeptics can see me in my chair and associate Archie Bunker in his. But I tend to think of myself more like James T. Kirk in his armchair on the deck of the Enterprise, commanding the galaxy. And only occasionally falling asleep.

The Author
Michael Antonoff is a freelance writer specializing in AV technology and industry trends. He was a senior editor for Popular Science, executive editor for Video magazine, technology editor for S&V, and a tech columnist for USA Today.