When Stereophile's Product of the Year Awards were first published, in 1992, we decided that unlike some other publications and their awards schemes, we would keep the number of categories to a minimum. That way, we would avoid what the late Art Dudley once described as the "every child in the class gets a prize" syndrome.

This decision led to some interesting contests. In Loudspeakers, for example, high-value minimonitors compete with cost-no-object floorstanders. In Analog Products, turntables compete with tonearms, phono cartridges, and phono preamplifiers. And in Amplification, single-box integrated amplifiers go up against separates, and low-power tube designs compete with high-power, solid state behemoths. In Budget Product of the Year and Product of the Year, products from every category competed against each other: Out of all the products that Stereophile reviewed over the whole year, which product offered the best bang for the buck or sounded the best overall?

Although I did happen upon Peak Consult speakers in Munich and Southern California in 2023, we last reviewed a Peak Consult speaker almost 18 years ago. Hence my excitement when I encountered genuine full-range sound (albeit too loud) in the room that paired a new reworking of the company's El Diablo loudspeakers ($79,000/pair) with Extraudio electronics.

Robin Wyatt always gives great room, and this year’s CAF appearance was no exception. Prancing like a jolly bartender offering beautiful audio reproduction in place of libations, Wyatt’s room creates anticipation and soon enough, audio ecstasy.

Gary Dewes and Pete Grzybowski, the minds behind Border Patrol Audio and Triode Wire Labs, respectively, conjured a sonic space that wasn't merely heard, but felt. A room where sound didn't just exist, but seized the listener, demanding attention.

Show attendees entered John Semrad and Dave Slagle’s room and let out an involuntary gasp. The components on display epitomized bespoke, handmade craftsmanship, of the highest quality, with purity and provenance their bywords.

At the risk of giving these social media upstarts more attention, my old friend Jason Messina (aka The Audiophile Junky) could be found in the Popori/UniQue room, which is a funny thing. The only time I’ve seen Jason even close to being immobile—i.e., not making videos, which he does, hitting the ground running (I’ve seen it)—is at a show!

Music's lunatic fringe drifts further out every hour. As it should. In this century, with computers playing an ever-larger role, music continues to fragment and become infinitely more varied. This splintering is either the essence of what keeps it relevant as an art form or something profoundly disturbing, to be hated and feared.

In the mid-1980s, few bands were as loved, despised, and misunderstood as the Butthole Surfers. The impulse to tread in unexplored borderlands of noise, studio blathery, live excess, indulgent nonsensicalness, and the urge to reconnoiter unheard sonics were all taken to heart by a nutty duo of Texans whose dulcet appellation was originally one of their song titles.