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<B>FM Antennae</B>

It's not just Katrina and Rita that have devastated the lives of musicians in the Gulf Coast area. The state of the economy, a decrease in services for the poor and marginally employed, the shorter attention span of those weaned on TV and computers, and an ever-increasing emphasis on image and effect over substance have all taken a huge toll on Gulf Coast musicians.

For years, I thought of Simaudio gear as good-sounding, attractive, and modestly priced, often describing it to friends as "really good for the money." The $5500 <A HREF="http://www.stereophile.com/cdplayers/343">Moon Eclipse</A> CD player, which I reviewed in our April 2001 and April 2003 issues, stretched the "modestly priced" descriptor a bit, but its sound was still, I thought, really good for what it cost, and I adopted it as a reference. Simaudio expanded the Moon series and eventually discontinued its older, less expensive Celeste brand, but, I thought, its products could still be described as "really good for the money."

I'm beginning to understand why some people enjoy writing about crazy tweaks like electron counseling and magic listening trousers: When an idea is that new, it brings with it the chance for some gifted but heretofore unappreciated journalist to rise through the ranks and describe it to an anxious world. By contrast, when a defeated and baggy old establishment writer sets out to describe a CD player or amplifier, the product is surely the millionth such thing to come down the pike, and before long the readers complain: We used to like you, but you don't try very hard to excite us anymore.

Looking back to see which of the multichannel discs I've reported on that have made a splash in the market, I detect an ominous trend. Most are reissues of classic performances, including all the RCA Living Stereo and the Mercury Living Presence SACDs, as well as a number of classic jazz and rock albums (including yet more editions of <I>Kind of Blue</I>, <I>Dark Side of the Moon</I>, and <I>Brothers in Arms</I>).

In the conference room, where I have lunch each day with two of my favorite people in the world (I am very lucky), I found myself tapping my fingers in constant rhythm against the long, veneered table. Why was I doing this?

Melissa is safe inside now. I just walked her home.