I wonder whether at a certain point the pursuit of absolute hi-fi is in danger of blending into a folly of perfection. As I sit listening to my--frankly madly expensive-- set up, my enjoyment of the music I should be listening to becomes plagued with doubts - should I shift my chair a few inches left or right to get a better focus on the stereo image? Should I toe the speakers in a little more? Should I move my wife closer to the corner of the room to improve bass response?
I sometimes philosophize that the audiophile bug is a special--pleasantly harmless--form of nostalgia; a thankfully less embarrassing analogue of the hankering certain middle-aged men have for absurdly inappropriate sports cars, motorbikes, or even second wives. . . .
I would illustrate what I mean with a personal story. The summer before I went off to university in 1982, I bought my first "system," an Amstrad 8080 stereo tuner and cassette player with detachable speakers that cost me about £30 from my local Woolworth:
This was the system I discovered music on; discovered my own musical tastes, and I suppose it's what set me on the path to where I am today with a set-up whose speaker wires could buy me fifteen or more Amstrads.
I know that, without question, the sound I hear coming from my speakers today is "better" in all sorts of ways than what I heard back in the 80's. But I do, in my more self-analytic moments, wonder if "better" is, well, better. How much is one's endless quest for audio perfection (a quest I adore and wouldn't give up for anything) actually a quest to listen again with the ears of that young man diligently respooling mangles cassettes with a pencil and a lot of patience?
I wonder if anyone else indulges in such lugubrious ruminations?
