Improved Version
Actually, it's the "Improved Version." The original manual told us so.
Actually, it's the "Improved Version." The original manual told us so.
I was totally into Sumiko's old-school logo. Bring it back, Sumiko!
The Sumiko needs a cartridge. Any recommendations? It should be relatively affordable (I'm thinking $300 or less) and look good with wood.
Eden's Sapphire was born in Oakland, California. It owns serial number 15002.
Last time in "Music in the Round," I wrote about the fading presence of SACD in the hardware and software markets. However, the enduring interest in LPs seems to tell us that where there is a demand for high quality by discerning audiophiles, there will be a supply.
Janet watched the record spin wildly, mildly awestruck. She nodded its way—a gesture that took in all the other 78rpm discs piled nearby—and asked, "How long have you had those?"
There's good news on the download front. Two sites, one in the UK and the other in the US, are gearing up for major expansions of their catalogs. Both offer DRM-free files in both lossless and high-quality (320kbps) MP3 formats.
Audiophiles probably know Steve Guttenberg for his writing about hi-fi and home theater in numerous publications, as well as his blog <I>The Audiophiliac</I>. What only a handful of folks know, however, is that Steve is a talented graphic artist, manipulating photographic images to express the world as he (sort of) sees it.
Spending $10,000 for a machine that spins CDs and SACDs may seem extravagant in an age when the latter format is pretty much dried up and the former seems headed there. But hold on—there are reasons for the Krell Evolution 505's five-figure price, and a payoff, too.
During some 1970's summer, in the housing projects of Newark, NJ, a young Puerto Rican girl would listen as the bold, brassy sounds of New York City's salsa wafted from open windows, like the unmistakable scent of chuletas fritas. (No, that's too obvious.) The bold, brassy sounds of New York City's salsa fell from open windows like newborn babies. (Oh, god, too gruesome.) The bold, brassy sounds erupted like gunfire, falling into rhythm with police sirens and train whistles. (Whatever.) The music was everywhere. Our young Puerto Rican girl listened to it, and fell in love with it. She (very innocently) plastered the walls of her virginal bedroom with the colorful artwork of her favorite album covers.