To me, the most interesting thing about systems is that they all sound different. I try to identify the difference, before I make any judgement regarding the overall sound. Recently I listened to the big (and beautiful) Italian floorstanders at my friend's place. When I came home, listening to my own system, I first became sad and disappointed. His system sounded better. Especially, the treble was clearer. But then, I listened some more to my own system, noting that it has strengths compared to my friend's system. The treble may not be as sharply defined, yet the music sounds very embodied, even muscular (when called for), with a very lively and engaging 3d soundfield. So even though the Italians were hard to beat in some ways, other aspects pointed other ways. There are plusses and minuses with both system. This made me relax and enjoy what I have, and listening to other systems as well. It is a good idea to start with the plus points, rather than focus narrowly on the problem areas, e g a not-quite-optimal tweeter solution.
The Horror
After getting back home from “The Show” in Costa Mesa, California this past weekend, I walked over to my stereo system and turned it on. And silently wept. I had held out a feint hope that my cross-over modified 1.7i Maggies and mighty Parasound A21+, fed from a Prima Luna 300 tube preamplifier could somehow manage a slight shimmer of resemblance to the robust setups I witnessed at the SHOW. Not—- on— your —-life. Not even close. I slumped into my over-stuffed couch and stared long and hard at the thing I created: an anemic concoction of false hopes and wishful thinking. The horror, the truth: entry into serious audiophile listening begins with purchase of speakers that cost the price of the car I had to finance for 4 years, closely followed with the added expense of beefy sophisticated electronics and wiring, not a gaggle of cheap wanna-be plastic and tweeks. I so wanted to belong, but that’s turned out to be just a fever dream I’ve got to wake up from. Maybe one day, if ever I have the nerve to rob a bank, find Jimmy Hoffa, or survive a head-on collision from a sleepy Amazon driver, I might make it. Maybe. Feel free to play the violin with two fingers.