Duke Ellington's death 50 years ago was a massive loss for American music. Elegantly attired, beautifully spoken, and always the picture of sophistication, the African-American icon was one of the greatest composers of American music ever, regardless of genre.

Edward Kennedy Ellington led the Duke Ellington Orchestra (pointedly not a band) from the piano for more than 40 years, using hands and facial gestures instead of a baton. He used charm, flattery, and a deep understanding of human psychology to bind his virtuosos to the orchestra and get the sounds he wanted. Often in collaboration with arranger/composer Billy Strayhorn, the great unsung hero of Ellington's story, Ellington composed music of all lengths and for all occasions for the orchestra he toured the world with from the 1920s into the 1970s.

Detroit became a destination for migrating African Americans early, starting with the Underground Railroad; the city's proximity to Canada was convenient for those seeking to escape Southern slavery. The mass human movement accelerated with the Great Migration, which started about 1910, when millions of African Americans left the Jim Crow South for northern cities. The same human movement that brought the blues to Chicago and jazz to New York City took both to Detroit.

In all those cities, the 1920s was a time of ballrooms and big music halls. In Detroit, "society bands" black and white played through-composed, jazz-inflected music, according to a narrative put together by Cliff Coleman and Jim Ruffner for the local jazz museum. The proliferation of orchestra chairs meant that skilled musicians familiar with a range of musical styles could find work, especially if they read music. It also meant that Detroit was ready when, in 1927, Don Redman, who had been the chief arranger for Fletcher Henderson's band, moved to the city to lead William McKinney's Cotton Pickers, the resident Black jazz orchestra at Detroit's Graystone Ballroom. The Pickers soon became an important touring band, with a national reputation. Big-name orchestras like Duke Ellington's and Fletcher Henderson's started to visit the city; on Monday nights, the national bands would "battle" local bands.

In the e-commerce era, brick-and-mortar dealerships must give customers compelling reasons to stop by. Los Angeles hi-fi dealership Common Wave's owner Wesley Katzir keeps customers coming through the door with a simple idea: that music matters in our everyday lives and that what he enjoys, other people will enjoy, too. That extends not just to music but also design, which is a particular preoccupation of Katzir and his business.

"I wanted to create a hi-fi space for people who were interested in the same sorts of musical and listening experiences as I am, which is much more communal," Katzir told me in a recent phone conversation. "We have enough screens in our face. I'm trying to get people away from that to a more meditative, peaceful experience with music."

It's funny how we discover some music in unexpected, twisting ways. A friend recently sent me the real estate listing for a beautiful home in Deer Isle, Maine, about an hour from where I live. I gawked at the pictures and calculated I'd need to work for Stereophile for another 127 years before I'd have enough dough to buy it. Then I noticed something unusual on one of the walls of the place: lots of gold records. Google helped me figure out that the house had belonged to the late singer-songwriter Dan Fogelberg. I knew the name but was unfamiliar with his music. Minutes later, I was playing the studio version of "Nether Lands," seemingly named after my country of birth. A beautifully orchestrated piece with restrained woodwinds and soaring strings, it reminded me of the best of Van Dyke Parks and of some post–Pet Sounds Brian Wilson songs. I played it straight through three times.

Part of the reason I was so smitten with the recording lay in the engaging, naturalistic presentation it received from the handmade-in-Switzerland Piega Gen2 811 floorstanders ($30,000/pair) that had just made their way to my listening room.