I've worked at Stereophile for eight years, and, in a time when people change jobs as often as they change cars or television sets, eight years is a pretty good stretch. In that time, I've taken part in some exciting and memorable things, from Home Entertainment Shows and Consumer Electronics Shows to the live recording of Attention Screen at Merkin Hall. But Stereophile is fifteen years older than me, and I missed so much.
Every now and then, John Atkinson and Robert Baird will talk of the days in Santa Fe—riotous days of leather panties and long parties, days that JA now refers to as our "juvenilia"—times I can never know. The stories are wonderful and still so alive, but they're not enough. I can stare at the pictures and try to understand. I can stare at the pictures—like going through a lover's old photo album—and only imagine what things were like, only imagine who these people were, only imagine the sounds and smells and colors, all too aware that I can never truly know those days.
Wondering: How close will I ever get?Wondering: How much will I ever know?
Wondering: ? Knowing: I can never be a part of those times. We've got a lot of stuff on our website. We really do. I often find great pleasure in discovering some almost-forgotten day, some story that I never heard. To me, they are treasures. They are buried in the dusty racks, stuffed in old cardboard boxes, now trapped in cyberspace anchored to some long, obtuse URL. No one told them to me. I discovered them on my own, and, in some way, that makes them mine.
