THIS ISSUE: Alex enjoys a classic: the Manley Steelhead RC phono preamplifier.
The other day it occurred to me that the main difference between audiophiles and more reasonable adults isn’t our gear. Plenty of people have impressive hi-fis simply because they can afford them and are running out of things to buy. No, what makes someone an audiophile is the willingness to sit down in front of a pair of speakers (or with a pair of headphones clamped over their ears) and focus the entirety of their attention on listening.
I recognize just how unusual this habit is when someone visits my home and happens to remark on the hi-fi, either because it sounds good to them, looks weird, or resides in a place where most homes have TVs. Though I vow regularly to stop doing this, I invariably mistake their innocent comment for a profession of interest and maneuver the guest to my listening seat. Then I walk to the turntable and put on a record. This begins genially enough, but the mood sours shortly after, when they see me backing away and realize that I’ve cajoled them into listening to an entire track without talking. At this point, my guest shoots me a look of utter panic or dismay, as though I’d just offered to show them a mysterious rash or invited them on a tour of my taxidermy shed.
Even my friend R—a former music director at the beloved New Jersey indie radio station WFMU, whose knowledge of pop music borders on the neurodivergent—tends to listen in her car or on a Dell laptop. She considers my audiophilia to be a strange but harmless condition, like a facial tic, and when I try to offer her the sweet spot to partake of some record I’m excited about, she lets out a sigh and wistfully shakes her head.
