Herb Reichert

I was walking with my neighbor, guide, old friend, and fabled "blue saloon" limo driver Beau Ranheim when I heard a shout from afar. It was Todd Garfinkle of M•A Recordings. "Hey Herb! Are you ready to go to Japan?"

In my studio, I have a hand-sized wood box. It is the soundbox of an African musical instrument with a small internal volume, a pencil-sized sound hole, a bent steel bridge, and an array of eight steel wires with flattened ends—a keyboard. It is called a mbira . . . you can buy a spiffy varnished mbira at Walmart, where it is called a "Kalimba."

Last year, I reported on Stax's glamorous new SR-007S electrostatic earspeakers ($2390) in conjunction with the Stax SRM-700S driver amplifier. This report was extra fun because I was just finishing up a long romantic affair with a loaner pair of vintage Stax SR-Omegas about which, in his 1995 Stereophile review, Tom Norton declared: "If you want the truth, however—at least as honestly as I've heard it in any headphones—you want the Stax SR-Omegas."

There was no limo, just a walk filled with Christmas-in-Chinatown sights from the F train east down East Broadway, past 169 Bar, under the Manhattan Bridge, to the Dim Sum Palace. I was having a dinner meetup with an artist-writer friend named Joe who invited me to hear the wide-range AER drivers that he has bolted onto clear acrylic AER baffles with big, round, clear horns on the front.

Lord knows I try to keep an open mind, but those good-measuring delta-sigma chip DACs rub me the wrong way. Their processing complexity vexes my mind, and there's never been a reconstruction or upsampling filter that I've been a fan of. Nevertheless, I believe that every audio component must be judged by how it sounds and feels in use.

On the front page of its owner's manual, Greek amplifier manufacturer Lab12 describes the Melto2 ($4995) as a "Remote Controlled, Fully Adjustable Phono Preamplifier." I'd describe it as a clear-speaking, fun-to-use, cartridge- and record-collector's dream. Plus: It's got tubes.

Last night, I sat on a bright yellow velveteen sofa eating red beans and rice while listening for three hours to blues and jazz from rare 78rpm records. I walked out feeling gospel-level raised up, with a head full of dreams and cultural memories.