Mark Levinson: when he speaks, yes, he speaks of music, but he can't seem to separate music from so many other things, and why should he? Why would he? When he speaks of music, he speaks of how it relates to the human body and how it relates to technology and how all of this relates to love and to life. He can't help himself.
Is the Burwen Bobcat really the most important innovation in high-end audio I'll ever hear? Is it really going to change the world? Is this the cure to what is wrong with the high-end audio industry?
I don't know. But I am quite certain that it did something to the music. It made a difference, that's for sure. Is that difference something that will continue to bring long term listening pleasure? I can't say. But, in my brief time with it, that difference seemed to be for the better, giving music more drama and soul, and making poorly recorded material Big Bill Broonzy strumming and wailing from fifty years in the past more than just listenable, but lovely. Lovely. In fact, without Bobcat, that Big Bill Broonzy track sounded damn awful. Stop, please, turn it off now before my ears bleed awful. With Bobcat activated, we were all smiles and nodding heads and gentle sways and oh yeah gimme more go down sun we don't care we don't like sunshine we drink moonshine here gimme more.
"It's like with relationships. Are you in or are you out?"
Mark Levinson is in love. He is in love with music and life and with the way music and life sound through the Burwen Bobcat. That much, I believe, for sure.