Rogier van Bakel

A few summers ago, I briefly got it in my head that I could become a wine connoisseur. This was due to a very generous and unexpected gift. A local acquaintance had passed away, and his wife wanted to rid her basement of his small wine collection.

I don't know why I was chosen as the lucky recipient, but after stammering half a dozen thank-yous, I suddenly owned about 150 fine wines. A few carried four-figure price tags.

Reliably telling a Pinot Grigio from a Chardonnay isn't part of my skill set. Grape varieties, terroir, vintages? You might as well ask a toddler to become conversant in quantum mechanics. Still, I was intrigued by the bottles and amused by the ridiculousness of the situation. Me, an oenophile? I supposed I could pretend, and I did.

After opening and drinking, with my wife, a 1988 Château Léoville Barton, I wrote an over-the-top review and emailed it to a wine-loving friend for his amusement. "I beheld Hawthorn berries and beef stock along with a suggestion of blonde tobacco. Other than the obvious green walnut, there was a top note of wet Baja beach at dawn, mixing subtly with minke-whale flatulence and a hint of two-day-old scallop innards. Finally, with subsequent sips, I detected the aroma of the well-worn merkin of a Honduran sex worker. All in all, not a bad wine."

Eat your heart out, Robert Parker!

There was a period in the 1970s when many pop ballads that should have had understated arrangements instead turned grandiose and even maudlin. Take Gilbert O'Sullivan's sensational single "Nothing Rhymed" (a track that went deep for a pop hit, referencing famine, duty, and morality). Soon after the start, O'Sullivan's piano is overshadowed by a loud, saccharine string section.

Another example is "Lotte," German singer Stephan Sulke's portrayal of a dying love affair. The devastatingly wistful chanson is burdened by a mawkish orchestral track—the equivalent of glitterbombing an Edward Hopper painting.

Contrast this with Roberta Flack's definitive version of Ewan MacColl's "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face." Apart from Flack's voice and her emotional delivery, the gently strummed guitar and quiet piano do all the heavy lifting. An unhurried double bass and a couple of minimally bowed string instruments leave swaths of negative space, helping to give her interpretation its hushed, reverent character.

I reflected on all this after spending several months with Balanced Audio Technology's REX 500 solid state power amplifier ($25,000), which has more in common with the Roberta Flack track than with the bombast of "Nothing Rhymed."

On the final day of High End Munich, a couple of hours before closing time, I sent the visiting Stereophile crew a message about the new speakers in the YG Acoustics room: “Should you have time and you haven’t visited yet, go listen. Both the passive and active systems there sound phenomenal.”

High-flying Fidelity Imports occupied seven rooms at AXPONA 2024—probably a show record. Since starting the company in 2018, industry veteran Steve Jain has signed up a bevy of brands from Italy, France, England, Japan, and beyond.

Going to an audio show is a bit like being a finalist in that old Monty Hall show where your prize is behind one of three identical doors. At AXPONA, there are more than 200 identical doors.

A $20,000 system is probably no one’s idea of cheap, but it’s affordable-ish by AXPONA standards. And if the sound quality of such a setup is as good as it was in room 394, where Chicago dealer Saturday Audio Exchange had again partnered with Canadian marques Paradigm and Anthem, we’re getting into bargain territory.

During each AXPONA, the makers of head-fi products set up their booths in the ground-floor central ballroom of Schaumburg's enormous Renaissance hotel. The Ear Gear Experience, they call it. I always have a look and a listen, in part because the products there aren't crazy expensive: three and four figures, mostly.