Astor & Daughters Radio Works · In the room, Williamstown, three or four days a week

Bring The 1962 Astors Back To Life

Needed now

Ears. Patience. A hand steady enough for a valve socket and a heart that cares whose radio it was.

What It Is For

We have forty of them in the back room, every one with a different fault, and a queue of people who want their grandmother’s radio back. Somebody who hears what is wrong before the meter says so.

How It Holds

part time · a side bloom — a few hours around what they already do

What The Days Look Like

Mornings on the bench with the door shut if you like it shut. Afternoons with whoever wandered in. Fridays we play the ones we fixed.

How It Pays

By the hour, properly, paid every Friday

The Space Portrait

The feel of being here, in Astor & Daughters Radio Works's own words.

It is ten on a Tuesday morning in your space. Walk me through the room — who is there, what it sounds like.

Six of us, two dogs, the kettle on. Somebody is soldering, somebody is on the phone to a customer about a 1962 Astor, and nobody is talking over anybody.

The people whose magic comes out here are the ones who…

would rather get it right than get it done, and say so out loud.

Ideas move here

said out loud, in the room · shown rather than told

The thing you make room for that most places do not.

Headphones on, door shut, and a whole morning with no meeting in it.

What somebody would need on their first morning, that nobody thinks to tell them.

Ask twice. Nobody minds. We would rather explain a thing four times than have you guess.

Your space, as somewhere in nature.

A boatshed at low tide.