They say that with age comes wisdom, and judging by some of my younger self's misguided choices, that adage could be true, at least for me. In 1984, after graduating from college with a degree in audio production, I moved back to England, where I had spent most of my teen years as a boarding school inmate. I had friends and connections there, and despite being a US citizen, I had some kind of sketchy work authorization that allowed me to work legally in the UK for up to six months. I connected with my old school friend Morris Gould, and we found a flat in South London to share as I looked for work.

Morris had been the de facto leader of my high school punk band, The Ripchords. Six years later, he was getting started with a career as ambient chill-out deejay Mixmaster Morris, releasing records as The Irresistible Force. Our apartment became a kind of hub in the South London music scene, with musicians and industry people circling through. Eventually, I found a job working at Music and Video Exchange, the gear-focused branch of the popular Record and Tape Exchange chain of secondhand record shops. At M&VE, the staff had first dibs on any cool gear that came in, and I remember being intensely envious when colleague Andy snagged a rare EMS VCS 3 synthesizer for almost nothing.

Back in the '90s, when I was young and marginally employed, one of the things I looked forward to most was going downstairs to my mailbox and finding a copy of Audiomart. The booklet arrived every two weeks, sometimes monthly, and was filled with classified ads for audio gear typeset in tiny, difficult-to-read print. In those pre-internet days, you needed a reference from a subscriber to sign up for Audiomart, which fostered a sense of community and safety, and if you wanted to respond to an ad, you had to call someone. Mostly I just enjoyed perusing the ads, but the prices for some of the vintage gear, particularly the less legendary stuff, were low enough that from time to time I could afford them.

Lucca Chesky’s LC1 bookshelf speaker was a hit at AXPONA and Capital Audiofest, so it made sense to see Chesky’s stand positioned prominently outside one of High End Munich’s large halls.

Two well-known French high-end audio brands, Kora and Diptyque Audio, debuted new products together at High End Munich.

By this stage of the Munich show, I was frazzled but still hungry for more. The Thrax/Ramar room delivered, with Thrax's Rumen Artarski and Ramar's Rangel Vasev presenting a compact, well-executed system and a set of ingenious vinyl accessories.

Advance Paris. The name might evoke images of WWII’s French Resistance or even the cold suspense of The Day of the Jackal. But for audiophiles, Advance Paris has a different, equally compelling meaning: it’s a 30-year-old French hi-fi company that manufactures integrated amplifiers, stereo and mono power amps, preamps, and CD/network players.

The Spin Doctor, Michael Trei, and I visited the booth of Korf Audio’s Alexey Kornienkov, who showed two new products: the TA-CF9 monocrystallic sapphire arm tube/reference tonearm ($5600), and an updated version of his HS-A03 ceramic headshell ($215; all prices approximate when converted from Euros).

Robert Auer of Auer Acoustics isn’t just selling loudspeakers—he’s curating a lifestyle. A shrewd furniture designer, Auer showcased his holistic vision at the Munich show, integrating his Mr. Auer Chair ($110, prices approximate when converted from Euros) and Auer Acoustics Panzerholz Rack ($5700) into his sound system. His website [robertauer.com] further blurs the lines, offering everything from recipes to kitchen solutions and even a custom trolley for his signature chair. This approach transcends audio, offering an entire, well-appointed existence.