Jason Victor Serinus

On top of a desk, an audio system must be able to deliver satisfying sound in a nonoptimal environment: a flat, reflective plane (the desktop) cluttered with keyboard (or maybe a laptop computer); a mouse; assorted papers, books, and trash; and, perpendicular to that, another flat, reflective plane (the computer display), which, if it's not a tiny laptop screen, will block some of the soundwaves emanating from the speakers. Such sonically inhospitable spaces can consign 3D stereo imaging (and other desirable sonic traits) to the realm of the imagination.

Béla Bartók: String Quartets Nos.1, 3 & 5, Nicholas Cords: Touch Harmonious and Joseph C. Phillips Jr.: The Grey Land: A Mono-Opera.

Joy. It's all about the joy.

Joy manifests during those moments when the critical mind suspends, the lens clears, and only union between you and your experience exists. When joy arises, time stands still, all sense of separation vanishes, and only wonder remains.

Many of us live for those moments. Moments of understanding that transcend verbiage and mental chatter and affirm what is real and eternal about the human condition.

How to explain the power that trained operatic voices hold over many of us? For me, the pull began days after I was born, when acoustic 78s of tenor Enrico Caruso and coloratura sopranos Amelita Galli-Curci and Luisa Tetrazzini played in the background. There was something about the way the dramatic-to-the-core Caruso sang, as if his life depended on it, while the high-flying coloraturas skipped lightly through impossible strings of notes. It moved me like little else.

Osvaldo Golijov: Falling Out of Time, John Luther Adams: The Become Trilogy, Alexander Scriabin: Le Poème del'extase and Honegger/Schoeck/Mitropoulos: Buried Alive.

Eric Whitacre: The Sacred Veil, Beethoven: 9 Symphonies, Beethoven: The Piano Concertos, Shostakovich: Symphonies 5, 1, Gyda Valtysdottir: Epicycle II and Augustin Hadelich: Bohemian Tales.

"As long as you're happy."

That's the line long uttered by the most dreaded members of my family, and their friends, whenever they tried to pry into my personal affairs. Often the last word, "happy," was uttered with a downward cadence and accompanied by a shrug.

Then came the kicker. "You are happy, aren't you?" said with eyes boring into my soul. "Well, as long as you're happy."