This is not one of those essays that is intended to trigger a dialog about speakers and audio gear — that’s for another day and a different forum. No, this essay is about why many of us do what we do for a living.
For me, listening to music is beyond cathartic; in the right setting, the speakers disappear, and you fall deeply inside the music. Ideally, the listener becomes an integral part of the performative energy as if they magically wandered into a private wonderland constructed by the artist. This ethereal “trip” does not happen for me at low volumes; the speakers must viscerally envelop the listener to achieve spiritual levitation. So, those of you who are fans of background music, you can get off the bus right now. What I am describing is something quite different.
I recently had a friend ask me for help in choosing a small, moderately priced Hi-Fi system for the den in his apartment. When he posed the question, the resulting mental process triggered for me a moment of reliving countless experiences I had hearing great playback systems. So, I responded by saying this: “Back when I was younger and highly impressionable, I had a few experiences listening to music where the system and the recording were so extraordinary, I saw God. The presentation was so staggering to me, both as a music lover and as a musician who has experienced a lot of live music. Those memorable highlights became a benchmark. Being able to get lost inside — to be so enveloped by the sound that all other aspects of reality took a pause — it was quite emotional. And it is an experience I always hoped others could enjoy.”
As part of my colorful life journey, I have been fortunate to have a close professional association with the THIEL brand of loudspeakers and the wonderful people who designed, assembled, and sold these special products in Lexington, Kentucky. I first encountered THIEL at Audio Den in Burlington, Vermont; probably late 1984 or early 1985.
Act 1: Around 1983-84, I was beginning a career installing car stereo systems at a shop in Watertown, Massachusetts, called Rich’s Car Tunes. Rich had built a 1957 Chevy Bel Air hot rod with an immense music system using a/d/s amplifiers and speakers. The radio was a Nakamichi TD-1200 cassette player, which was a very unusual component because of the extreme attention devoted to the analog, audiophile-quality preamplifier circuitry. One day, Rich took me for a spin, and he played The Beach Boys’ Holland record through the system in the ’57. The seamless top-to-bottom frequency response and shocking dimensionality were otherworldly. That moment changed my life, and I decided that I would pursue a career delivering such magical experiences.
Act 2: After my first stint at Rich’s shop, I moved to beautiful Burlington, Vermont. I started a job at a local Hi-Fi shop called Audio Den, adding car stereo sales and installation to their home audio mix with a small product display and a rented shop down the road. After hours in the store one night, we set up a pair of THIEL CS2 speakers with a Conrad Johnson power amp and preamp. Unlike my experience in Act 1, the CJ/THIEL system didn’t have the visceral impact of the Chevy, but the imaging was ridiculous — up/down, right/left, front/back — just sumptuous lick-my-face-off incredible Hi-Fi. Similar to my experience in Rich’s car, I’ll never forget that moment in Vermont.
In some ways, trying to describe it now sounds like the romantic cackle of actors describing true love in a B-movie. Be that as it may, those two encapsulated little events became the foundation of my 40-plus year career in consumer electronics, audio, smart home, etc. I am a grateful participant in a business community where many people got their start similarly to the way I did — impassioned by a love for great music and sound, usually played at intoxicating levels.
Sorry, no background music allowed on this bus.
