Herb Reichert

My CES encounter with Hegel featured the 75Wpc H80 integrated amp ($2000) driving (are you ready?) the Magico S-1 loudspeakers ($12,900/pair).

Every CES show reporter I bumped into would start the conversation with, "So, Herb what have you seen that you liked?" Or, "What's the coolest new product?" The second I walked it the Naim room, I knew the answer to both questions.

The new Audeze EL-8s ($699) are not just moderately-priced alternatives to the reference quality LCD-Xs—they offer their own special brand of reference quality and new technologies.

I had heard she was talented pianist. I had seen her in photos before, but I never expected the beautiful and statuesque director of Panasonic Technics, Michiko Ogawa, to greet me in person at the door of Technics' CES showroom.

The main joy of returning to audio and writing for Stereophile is the pure fanboy excitement of meeting the folk-heroes of high-end and getting to talk them. In one great-sounding room I got to meet three at once: Wendell Diller of Magnepan (one of the nicest humans in the audio schema) as well as Bill Conrad and Lew Johnson of Conrad-Johnson.

It's been 12 years since I attended a CES in Sin City. The porn stars are gone, but the tube amps and turntables are still here. They are trending the same virtual realities as Pono, the new drones, and cars that drive themselves. The temperature back in New York is heading for the teens but in the lobby of the Venetian, I saw a 3-year old working a smart phone like an aging carny works a 3-card Monte on Beale Street—she was wearing some fancy pink headphones and a matching pink Beatles tee shirt. (Did I mention it was 67°F in front of the Venetian today, the lobby of which is pictured above?)

I was sitting in my high chair, eating strained peas. My father was walking around the kitchen with a wooden box in one hand and a cord with a plug in the other. The box and the cord were attached to each other. I was inspired to utter my first actual sentence: "Plug it in over there!" Moments later, a man with a disturbing voice began squawking from inside the wooden box. It was a radio. Schnapps, our dachshund, barked angrily. I started to cry. Ever since, I've been charmed, fascinated, and mostly annoyed by wooden boxes that talk to me.