Hi-Fi and the Folly of Perfection
I wonder whether at a certain point the pursuit of absolute hi-fi is in danger of blending into a folly of perfection. As I sit listening to my--frankly madly expensive-- set up, my enjoyment of the music I should be listening to becomes plagued with doubts - should I shift my chair a few inches left or right to get a better focus on the stereo image? Should I toe the speakers in a little more? Should I move my wife closer to the corner of the room to improve bass response?
I sometimes philosophize that the audiophile bug is a special--pleasantly harmless--form of nostalgia; a thankfully less embarrassing analogue of the hankering certain middle-aged men have for absurdly inappropriate sports cars, motorbikes, or even second wives. . . .
I would illustrate what I mean with a personal story. The summer before I went off to university in 1982, I bought my first "system," an Amstrad 8080 stereo tuner and cassette player with detachable speakers that cost me about £30 from my local Woolworth:
This was the system I discovered music on; discovered my own musical tastes, and I suppose it's what set me on the path to where I am today with a set-up whose speaker wires could buy me fifteen or more Amstrads.
I know that, without question, the sound I hear coming from my speakers today is "better" in all sorts of ways than what I heard back in the 80's. But I do, in my more self-analytic moments, wonder if "better" is, well, better. How much is one's endless quest for audio perfection (a quest I adore and wouldn't give up for anything) actually a quest to listen again with the ears of that young man diligently respooling mangles cassettes with a pencil and a lot of patience?
I wonder if anyone else indulges in such lugubrious ruminations?
I get what the OP is describing. My first playback system wasn’t really even a proper hi-fi. It was a suitcase stereo with an RCA jack for a detachable speaker (that latched onto the case). Figure this was early ’60s. I jacked the thing into a musical instrument amp and a PA column and cranked it. I was in bliss! I’m sure in reality it was terrible, but it gave me great joy. And now, more than 50 years later, after obsessing, tweaking, hauling equipment in and out, various set ups over the years, maybe I’m just trying to recapture the excitement of those early days. It almost has nothing to do with SQ and more to do with the enthusiasm I had as a kid being able to blast "my" music-- early hard rock at the time. Do you still get excited? Frankly, I go through phases of ambivalence. I’m still interested in the recordings, the history, the players, but there are times when I’m not using the system. And that’s sad, given what it is meant for. I’ve been kicking around the idea of going back to school for archival practices and library or information science. I have access to a very good university here (UT Austin) where I already teach part-time and if they had the facilities for me to put together a program-- between their archive (Ransom Center) and Information Sciences program, I might do it. I need to keep my head in the game even if I’m not listening as much as I’d like for enjoyment. Maybe it is just a phase- I’ve been through this ennui before. Buying new gear doesn’t do it for me-- I’m pretty happy with what I have, though I may have one more big speaker system in me before they cart me off to the nursing home. Then, it’s Slim Whitman time! |
I suspect that reading Pirzig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance would be perfect for you right now. We have two sides to our personalities -- a classic/analytical and a romantic/sensual side. The question Pirsig raises is your question -- Why are these sides of us in tension and how to we make them complementary, again. Perhaps you'll like his attempts to answer it. |
@hilde45 - there's a book called The Perfect Wrong Note which is sort of Zen and the art of playing an instrument (in this case, the piano). It advocates learning from mistakes, not by repeatedly practicing to overcome the mistake, but by "going with it" to reach your inner musical soul. Sounds a little hippie-dippy, but it was an enjoyable read for me. |
