It's half past seven on a drizzly Friday night in New York City. I'm a little bit of a mess; soggy from the sporadic downpour, weakened by a full day's work, and still regretting the sub-par pork and chive dumplings I wolfed down earlier. All day long I've been fighting off the urge to inject myself with cold beers (preferably Guinness) and binge watch Wong Kar Wai films. It's one of those days.
"Are you an audiophile?" I find myself yelling into my semi-functional smart phone, sitting in my dimly lit cubicle in Stereophile's New York office.
On the other end of the line is my close friend and long-time mentor, David Binney. We're FaceTiming in slow, fragmented motions as he eats his dinner in a lively restaurant before a gig in central Belgrade.
"No, definitely not." He says quite matter-of-factly. "I subscribe to Stereophile but I don't consider myself an audiophile. I wish I was, but it's too expensive.
It's me, Jana. I know you're probably not reading this because you most likely don't spend your down time on Stereophile.com, but I feel compelled to write to you nevertheless on the off chance that you might. If I've managed to catch your attention so far, please don't go away.
A lady walks into an audiophile bar. She sees four men. They all turn to look at her.
All the first audiophile sees is some lady in a bar. He thinks nothing more. Can't be bothered. Let's face ithow often do you even see a lady audiophile?