Whenever I visit my brother and we retreat to his basement lair to enjoy a few fine intoxicants, I'm always struck by how much I enjoy the music. It doesn't seem to matter that it's played through a cheap Sherwood AV receiver and a $200 pair of haphazardly aimed Athena towers; the left of which is shoved into one corner with a candle and nik-naks on top.
I get a similar effect listening to CD's on my Arcam Solo and Andrew Jones Pioneers out in my garage shop. It seems as if I give the music a little more respect for sounding better than I think should be possible.
Then, when I listen to my main system, I'm somehow expecting better than I perceive it to be and I'm back in hyper-critical mode once more. It's frustrating.