Rogier van Bakel

It's a personal thing, perhaps a shortcoming: I don't care for harps, having never heard a piece of harp music I found appealing. Truthfully, that didn't suddenly change when I heard French Canadian harpist Isabeau Corriveau perform in the Embassy Suites room outfitted with hi-fi gear from On a Higher Note, distributor Philip O'Hanlon's company. (O’Hanlon can be seen on the right in the photo.) But Corriveau is a fetching presence and a helluva musician, and it was impressive to listen to her play along to A Leap of Faith, a vinyl disc of her own music. With eyes closed, I had a hard time reliably delineating the sonic boundary between live instrument and recorded music.

Remarkably, much of the Embassy Suites' 10th floor was taken up by relative newcomer Fidelity Imports, an import and distribution company started four years ago by industry veteran Steve Jain, who'd held management positions at Klipsch and Pioneer. Jain, 46, likes to move fast. After first signing three British companies in short order—Cyrus Audio (amplification), Q Acoustics (speakers), and QED Cable (duh)—he looked to other parts of the globe for further expansion. These days, his stable includes 17 brands, including Slovakia's Neo (high-end audio racks), Italy's Audia Flight (amps, preamps, CD players), and Japan's Soulnote (amplifiers and other stereo components).

What does the MC in MC Audiotech stand for? Marvelously Cutting-Edge? Master 'Coustician? I would've guessed Mark Conti; Conti is, after all, the founder of the Pennsylvania-based boutique brand. But the man himself told me—tongue in cheek, I reckon—that MC is actually short for Musica cordis, a Latin phrase that means "Music from the heart." Works for me, especially after I heard his latest loudspeaker, a blond beauty called the TL-12.

If you live in Maine, and it's wintertime, and a kind magazine editor calls offering a getaway to the Florida International Audio Expo, what do you say? In my case, it was Yes please. And so, yesterday, I arrived at the Embassy Suites Westshore in sunny Tampa, suddenly without the need for scarves and double-insulated boots, but with my usual hankering for a serious hi-fi fix. I'll be getting a three-day series of them, in fact. Lucky me.

Patches was the first to exit the car, sporting a nose like an overripe tomato. Amid the sawdust-and–tiger-dung smell that wafted through the bigtop, he nimbly extracted himself from the multicolored Mini Cooper, face beaming with vows of slapstick and mischief. Patches gestured behind him, to Chuckles, who emerged with floppy shoes the length of baguettes. Next to squeeze out of the Mini were Bozo, Klutzy, Wiggle, Dinky, Cletus, Peewee, Pinhead, Joey, Sparkles, and Poppy—all wearing baggy pants in shouty hues and huge smiles applied with grease paint. I shuddered with delight. I was 8.

I like to think that my musical tastes are pretty eclectic: jazz, pop, blues, Americana, metal, world music, ambient, prog rock, more. Operatic music and classical singing, though? Thanks, I'll pass.

There are exceptions. I find tear-tugging beauty in "Ebben? Ne Andrò Lontana" from Alfredo Catalani's La Wally, whether sung by Donij van Doorn or Wilhelmenia Wiggins Fernandez (footnote 1). The German Lieder of Kurt Weill, as interpreted by soprano Teresa Stratas, produce gladness in my heart but confusion in my uncomprehending wife and children. Maybe it's because the often sarcastic, gruff songs about the travails of the lumpenproletariat contrast with the purity of Stratas's classically trained voice. That clash is precisely what I love about it.

Pop quiz. What does the following verbiage describe? And what does it mean?

"It's about what we love the most. It's about what we hate the most. It's about what we wait for but never happens. Relationships turn on, interrupt, and resume. Or sometimes they just stay still. Floating and suspended. So breathe in. Let go. Let's begin from nothing."

Huh. Any luck yet?