And ruffle through invisible pages. And fret at imaginary strings. As he speaks.
And when he speaks, he takes deep pauses that seem to ask: "Which is the best word?" And "What do I really mean to say?" And "Is there a right way to convey this feeling, this thing?" And when he pauses, his body sways, as though he is under warm water — yes, it must be warm because he seems too comfortable for it to be anything else — as though he is being taken by the kindest waves…
The first day I spent haying, I wore shorts and a teeshirt and laughed at the "old" farmers (probably about my age now) who wore canvas pants and long-sleeved flannel shirts. By noon, I was sunburned and covered with scratches from briars and jagged hay, and stung by bees trapped in the bales (they were perturbed by the experience, understandably). You better believe I showed up fully garbed, gloved, and hatted the next day.
This paean to hay almost…
Mark Levinson: when he speaks, yes, he speaks of music, but he can't seem to separate music from so many other things, and why should he? Why would he? When he speaks of music, he speaks of how it relates to the human body and how it relates to technology and how all of this relates to love and to life. He can't help himself.
Is the Burwen Bobcat really the most important innovation in high-end audio I'll…