LATEST ADDITIONS

Friday—opening day—was crazy. I've never visited so many rooms in one day at an audio show—14, to be exact. That's a lot of rooms to cover. As a show reporter, you must take the time to listen to the gear, evaluate its sound, jot down legible impressions, make sense of exhibitors' explanations, get product names and prices, take photos of the gear, and ask for business cards so you can contact someone later if you're missing information. Then, despite my best efforts, I often must make a repeat visit because I forgot to take a particular photo or pick up a price list or ask for the exhibitor's business card. It's time-consuming.

Sunny? Springy? Even more bizarre: No snow is predicted for the entire weekend, during the 34th Montreal Audiofest, which runs from March 24 to March 26.

Got plans for Saturday afternoon? How 'bout a visit to the dark side of the moon—or, rather, the Dark Side of the Moon?

Younger people (post-Boomer generations) listen to a ton of music—but are they really listening? Are they paying close attention, or, as the cliché goes, is it, for them, all background music? Generational clichés are rarely accurate. Of course they actually listen. Enough of them are, anyway. And they hear more; their hearing is better.

In the articles on hi-fi that he contributed to the Japanese magazine MJ, Sakuma-san also wrote about film, fishing, karaoke, and pachinko machines, and he usually began and ended his contributions with a poem. He considered himself an evangelist for emotional sound and demonstrated his audio systems in homes, at conferences, and on concert stages around the world. Though he passed in 2018, his fan club, called Direct Heating, remains a happening concern. Sakuma-san was fond of coining mottos—one was "farewell to theory"—but what has stuck with me most is his description of an ideal sound: "endless energy with sorrow."

This phrase came to mind often during the months I spent living with the Klipsch La Scala speakers, which imbued my musical life with unprecedented amounts of sound and emotion, and which I believe Sakuma-san would have enjoyed.

I've been bringing home too many records from the record store, or too many CDs from the CD shop, for decades—so many that it's difficult to focus on just one, to listen to it again and again, to give it the attention it deserves. In the era of streaming—of having a sizeable fraction of the history of recorded music at your fingertips for $10–$20/month—the temptation is especially acute. It's too easy to move among favorite bits of our favorite music—especially when, as is too often true of audiophiles, we're so eager to hear how a favorite moment in this or that piece of music sounds on our system, now that we've added in that new component.