Although LPs remain, for me, the high-end medium of choice, I'm not terribly interested in today's high-end record <I>players</I>. Most of them, from the 1980s through the present, have been soulless, uninspired, me-too products that utterly fail to communicate the presence, momentum, and punch of recorded music. And in certain ways&#151;expense, complexity, size, cosmetics&#151;some have been, quite simply, ridiculous.

Although LPs remain, for me, the high-end medium of choice, I'm not terribly interested in today's high-end record <I>players</I>. Most of them, from the 1980s through the present, have been soulless, uninspired, me-too products that utterly fail to communicate the presence, momentum, and punch of recorded music. And in certain ways&#151;expense, complexity, size, cosmetics&#151;some have been, quite simply, ridiculous.

Although LPs remain, for me, the high-end medium of choice, I'm not terribly interested in today's high-end record <I>players</I>. Most of them, from the 1980s through the present, have been soulless, uninspired, me-too products that utterly fail to communicate the presence, momentum, and punch of recorded music. And in certain ways&#151;expense, complexity, size, cosmetics&#151;some have been, quite simply, ridiculous.

Although LPs remain, for me, the high-end medium of choice, I'm not terribly interested in today's high-end record <I>players</I>. Most of them, from the 1980s through the present, have been soulless, uninspired, me-too products that utterly fail to communicate the presence, momentum, and punch of recorded music. And in certain ways&#151;expense, complexity, size, cosmetics&#151;some have been, quite simply, ridiculous.

Although LPs remain, for me, the high-end medium of choice, I'm not terribly interested in today's high-end record <I>players</I>. Most of them, from the 1980s through the present, have been soulless, uninspired, me-too products that utterly fail to communicate the presence, momentum, and punch of recorded music. And in certain ways&#151;expense, complexity, size, cosmetics&#151;some have been, quite simply, ridiculous.

I’ve been digging Dexter Gordon’s 1963 album, <i>Our Man In Paris</i>, featuring Bud Powell on piano, Pierre Michelot (a JA fave) on bass, and Kenny Clarke on drums. Look at how deep and cool Dexter Gordon looks on the cover, balancing a smoke between his fingers, lost in thought.