The word <I>chancellor</I> derives, believe it or not, from the Italian word for wooden latticework, <I>cancelli</I>. In the church architecture of sixth-century Rome, a latticework screen demarcated an area near the altar where deacons or priests would stand, waiting to assist the principal celebrant as needed. In English, this area became known as the <I>chancel</I>. In consequence, a trusted assistant came to be known as a <I>chancellor</I>. In the High Middle Ages, that title was given to the cleric who would correspond on behalf of and maintain the archives for an important churchman, such as a bishop.

The word <I>chancellor</I> derives, believe it or not, from the Italian word for wooden latticework, <I>cancelli</I>. In the church architecture of sixth-century Rome, a latticework screen demarcated an area near the altar where deacons or priests would stand, waiting to assist the principal celebrant as needed. In English, this area became known as the <I>chancel</I>. In consequence, a trusted assistant came to be known as a <I>chancellor</I>. In the High Middle Ages, that title was given to the cleric who would correspond on behalf of and maintain the archives for an important churchman, such as a bishop.

The word <I>chancellor</I> derives, believe it or not, from the Italian word for wooden latticework, <I>cancelli</I>. In the church architecture of sixth-century Rome, a latticework screen demarcated an area near the altar where deacons or priests would stand, waiting to assist the principal celebrant as needed. In English, this area became known as the <I>chancel</I>. In consequence, a trusted assistant came to be known as a <I>chancellor</I>. In the High Middle Ages, that title was given to the cleric who would correspond on behalf of and maintain the archives for an important churchman, such as a bishop.

The digital music market balances on at least five legs: software producers, technology developers, electronics manufacturers, consumers, and regulating bodies. So, can a two-legged agreement stand? That's the question industry watchers are asking as representatives of two groups, the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) and the technology sector, announced that they have reached agreement on a "core set of principles" to guide their public policy activities regarding the distribution of digital content.

With the February issue hitting newstands, it's time once again to honor those twirling discs that also made our heads spin, with "<A HREF="http://www.stereophile.com//records2die4/754/">2002 Records To Die For</A>." <I>Stereophile</I>'s staff and writers all check in with their eclectic batches of musical heaven.

People are often unaware that they might benefit from industry- or union-sponsored funds or participate in class-action settlements. In early January, we were notified of a fund for session musicians with over $3 million still unclaimed, and of a procedure enabling consumers to collect a small share of the payout from the "MAP" (minimum advertised price) <A HREF="http://www.stereophile.com/news/11461/">lawsuit</A&gt; that was settled by the music industry last year.

One of the more intriguing discussions we had at last week's Consumer Electronics Show (CES) was with Jim Weil of Berkeley, CA&ndash;based <A HREF="http://www.soundapplication.com">Sound Application</A>.

The past year has been a busy one for Hilary Rosen, CEO of the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). She suffered a <A HREF="http://tirian.magd.ox.ac.uk/~nick/UnionDebate/">humiliating defeat</A> at England's <A HREF="http://www.oxford-union.org">Oxford Union Debates</A>, celebrated <A HREF="http://www.stereophile.com/news/11548/">new agreements</A> with Silicon Valley companies, and led her organization in the attack on file-sharing service Kazaa. Rosen and the RIAA have also attacked college kids and put pressure on universities to police their students.

Despite my 26 years in audio journalism, the amount of stuff I need to know seems to increase faster than I can cope with it. Thus it didn't come as too much of a surprise for me to learn that speaker manufacturer Canton, the Teutonic equivalent of England's B&W, a) was 30 years old in 2002, and b) claims the dominant market share of the German market. Yes, I'd been peripherally aware of Canton through the years, but for various reasons had never auditioned any of their models. I was amenable, therefore, when Canton USA's Paul Madsen suggested to me last May, at Home Entertainment 2002 in New York City, that I review their flagship speaker.