The day I visited Stereophile Senior Contributing Editor Kalman Rubinson, I arrived back home with a headful of new understandings, but before I could ponder those things, I made a cup of tea and sat down to read a few New York Times obituaries.

While Kal and I sat chatting on his couch, he told me that reading obituaries was not only fascinating but had actually helped him find out what happened to a few people he had lost touch with. I told him I hadn't read Times obits in years but when I did, I did it to enjoy the quality of writing. We agreed that the Times's obituaries (as well as their Sports, Food, and Arts & Leisure pages) are good places to find inspired bits of pure journalism.

After some raving about our favorite journalists, we began telling when-we-were-kid stories about how we used to stare through the grille cloths on table radios, where inside by the speaker we would see the announcer's face, and sometimes whole orchestras—in miniature—on a dark stage where the speaker cone morphed into a concert shell.

It was October 1990 and Richard Lehnert, at that time Stereophile's music editor, buttonholed me in our office parking lot. He had an idea for a new feature in which, instead of recommending audio components, which we had been doing since the first edition of Recommended Components in 1963, we should do the same for music. "Rather than a selection of all-time (or year's) best recorded performances—which are common enough—or a list of audiophile reference recordings—common enough in the audiophile press, at any rate," he said, "this would be a list of stereo recordings that are both musically and sonically impeccable. In other words, the best, the tops, to die for."

It took me less than a New York minute to sign off on Richard's idea. We asked the magazine's audio and music writers each to name two of their favorite albums of all time—albums that were, to them, "to die for."