LATEST ADDITIONS

Back when gasoline had lead in it and amplifiers came with circuit diagrams in the back of the manual, there was an unspoken understanding that power meant weight. A professional camera was a Graflex Speed Graphic or a Hasselblad 1000F, built like a small battleship and nearly as heavy. Powerful car engines were cast-iron V8s with cylinders you could stick a fist in. And of course, serious amps had transformers that could double as boat anchors.

These days, amplifier design often emphasizes efficiency. Class-D amps in particular have come a long way. Many are terrific, and they're undeniably practical. But there's still something uniquely satisfying about a design that prioritizes timeless expression over economy of electricity or space.

The Pathos InPoL Legacy, a class-A design, is unapologetically massive and so gloriously overbuilt that moving it requires a tactical plan and a chiropractor.

Just when I thought my equipment reviewing schedule was locked in for many months, an unavoidable last-minute cancellation sent me scrambling for an alternative.

Jim Austin to the rescue. To his query, "How would you like to review a tube preamp from Canor, of Slovakia?" I answered with an enthusiastic "yes!"

In addition to the exciting prospect of reviewing the first tubed preamplifier to come my way in a long time, hearing the Canor Hyperion P1 preamplifier ($12,500) in my system would enable me to get a handle on the sound of gear I'd only encountered once, at High End Munich 2024. As is often the case at shows, I left without a clear sense of the preamp's contribution to the system's sound, let alone its ultimate potential.

Does anyone use the term "record man" these days? In an earlier era, it would have been used in the same way the term "ad man" was used, as a particularly American job description. People who spend their careers in and around the music business. Some of these record men are known by the public—some of it anyway—whereas others may be familiar only to colleagues.

I met Steve Berkowitz under the best of circumstances: sitting in a basement listening room hearing beautiful recordings made in 1958 that I'd never heard before, by the Miles Davis Quintet. It was the recently issued Miles Davis—Birth of the Blue (Analogue Productions APJ 172). The album was, the credits state, "Supervised by Steve Berkowitz." The name rang a bell, though prior to this meeting, I didn't have a face to go with the name.

Launched in 1967, Quad's highly original, elegantly styled 33 preamplifier and 303 power amplifier were Quad's first all–solid state designs and among the first solid state separates. The 303 may have been one of the first "vertical" amplifiers. Together with the 405 stereo amplifier, which came out in 1975, and the FM2 and FM3 tuners, these products proved to be enduring, widely feted successes from their launch until they were discontinued, the 33 in 1982, the 303 in 1985. Meanwhile, they enjoyed massive production runs, were marketed worldwide, and were much admired for their modern industrial design. It's said that Quad sold 120,000 33 preamps and 100,000 303 amplifiers. Across two versions, the 405 sold even more.

Quad introduced new versions of the 33 and 303 (each component $1599) in 2024, apparently moved to do so by the continuing hot market for originals.

Vinyl is more than sound—it’s a visual ritual. That’s where the Petru Visualizer steps in. Handcrafted with precision and built to react to your music, this unique piece of audio art transforms every spin into a show.

There are things that make me feel so unpleasantly lightheaded that some days I worry my cranium might float away like a helium balloon. Like baby animals generated by AI that I can no longer distinguish from real ones. Skin care for tweens. Headlines about American politics that read like headlines about Turkmenistan. The music of Charli XCX.

And being middle aged. Even the term is a con. At 54, I'm not in the middle of anything, and given the way my back feels in the mornings, the thought of living to 108 fills me with terror. There are things about this stage of life that arrive imperceptibly, and not just the physical frailties. Chief among them is the way one's time on earth begins to feel unsettling and sometimes poignant in its suddenly tangible brevity. Now, when I speak to people in their early 20s, I find myself amazed by their belief that life is brimming with endless possibility and lasts nearly forever. I suppose I might envy them, but I remember being their age and wouldn't relish being that person again.

Fortunately, there's more to middle age than bewilderment at cottagecore and one's worsening nocturia.

In 2010, the funky-eclectic New Orleans band Galactic—known today as much for being the owners of the city's storied Tipitina's club as for their music—cut their song "Heart of Steel" with singer Irma Thomas for their album, Ya-Ka-May. The band noticed that Thomas soon included the same tune in the sets that she played with her band. In 2022, Galactic decided to revisit the Thomas connection and came up with the idea of collaborating with her on an entire album of new music.