Standing on the Shoulders of Audio Giants

When he arrived in Canada, he didn’t arrive with a workshop, a reference system, or even a proper chassis to build on. He arrived with a box of parts, a CD player with a volume control, and decades of curiosity.

This wasn’t his first amplifier build. Back home, he had already built serious designs, including a Nelson Pass’s, Class A, A40 amplifier project. But this was the first time he was starting from nothing in a new country. No tools. No money for finished equipment. Just experience, persistence, and a deep respect for the people who came before him.

At the time, buying a full hi-fi system wasn’t an option. So he did what he had always done—he built his own.

He had brought transistors and MOSFETs with him, carefully packed away. He had an old heatsink salvaged from an Adcom amplifier. What he didn’t have was something most people would consider essential: a chassis. No aluminum plate. No enclosure. No proper platform to mount anything on.

One day, walking down the street, he noticed an old refrigerator sitting on the curb, put out for disposal. Older fridges had solid metal doors, thick and rigid. He knocked on their door and asked a simple question: could he take the top door?

The neighbor was happy to help and replied, “Of course you can!”

That fridge door became the foundation of his first amplifier in Canada.

He brought it home, stripped out the insulation, cut it down with a jigsaw, bent the metal by hand, and mounted the heatsink. He cut openings, mounted the parts, and built a 10-watt single-ended Class A amplifier based on one of Nelson Pass’s designs. No shortcuts. No compromises. Just careful assembly and respect for the original circuit.

The system was simple. A CD player straight into the amplifier. A pair of modest Pioneer speakers that he modified with a Motorola horn tweeter. Everything was set up on the dining table.

And it sounded incredible.

The speakers were around 90 dB efficient, and with just 10 watts, the system filled the room effortlessly. It wasn’t loud for the sake of being loud—it was alive. Musical. Honest. So convincing, in fact, our neighbour downstairs came up to ask if he was playing live instruments.

That moment mattered.

It wasn’t about validation. It was confirmation that good sound doesn’t come from price tags or polished cases. It comes from understanding, care, and intention.

That amplifier marked the beginning of his hi-fi journey in Canada. From there, he went on to build many more Nelson Pass designs—balanced amplifiers, higher-power variants, even modified versions tailored to drive difficult speakers like Magnepans. In every case, the approach was the same: learn deeply, listen carefully, and never lose respect for the original designer.

Nelson Pass wasn’t just a circuit designer to him. He was a mentor. A guide. Someone willing to share ideas openly and encourage exploration. When modifications were needed, they were discussed openly. When questions arose, conversations lasted hours.

And when Nelson later removed some DIY schematics because people began selling copies of his work: he still shared everything with Rohan because he respected the boundary. Some things aren’t meant to be commercialized. Some knowledge is meant to be shared responsibly.

That philosophy stuck.

Looking back, that fridge-door amplifier represents more than a clever solution. It represents an approach to audio that still guides us today. Work with what you have. Learn from those who came before. Don’t chase prestige—chase understanding. And never forget that great sound has always come from passion first, not convenience.

Every speaker and amplifier we design today carries a piece of that mindset. The uphill climb. The resourcefulness. The belief that music deserves more than shortcuts.

We are, after all, standing on the shoulders of audio giants.