Where to Find an Audiophile
An audiophile; an individual that is deeply passionate, exacting, and even obsessed with high fidelity audio. Seeking to reproduce in immaculate, crystal clear detail the quality of live audio, these curious creatures are on a tireless, unending quest towards this goal, going to occasionally extreme lengths; positioning speakers using spirit levels and protractors in order to achieve optimum acoustic performance or debating the merits of a particular compound of copper for cabling (to use two only slightly exaggerated examples) to get there.
Indeed, this mindset can permeate every stage of music production, from initial recording to playback. I'm certainly a music lover - to the point where it consumes me sometimes (not that I'm complaining, it’s a disease that causes me zero suffering), but I don't think I'm necessarily an audiophile.
The curious case of the lesser spotted audiophile can be best witnessed through the examination of record collectors. These notoriously pedantic creatures can often be found snuffling for truffles in the darkest corners of record shops the world over, uttering phrases such as "oh that's a first pressing" and "Led Zeppelin 1! Oh, but it's not got the original purple label".
Naturally, I'm joking (or at least, partly) - I recall one such incident in particular whilst I was working buying and selling used records at a small market stall in South East London. We had a copy of 'Help' by The Beatles, for sale at a very reasonable price (around £10 under market value at the time), and a chap approached to have a look at it. He then proceeded to forensically examine the sleeve, inner sleeve and record, eventually offering us around half the asking price, saying that 'the Parlophone logo on the record hub label is the wrong shade of yellow, which means it isn't a first pressing'. Now, I may not know much in this life and far be it from me to begrudge someone a little pickiness now and then, but I certainly know a first pressing of a popular title when I see one; this was definitely one. Indeed, we sold the item in question to somebody else later that afternoon.
I myself have whiled away many an afternoon in and around various music emporiums poking my sticky paws through the boxes of potential treasure. I have on occasion unearthed an absolute gem, and it's a real thrill for me. As far as most record buyers go though, I wouldn't necessarily call myself a typical record collector, in that I tend not to be too bothered about what shape the sleeve is in, and I seldom spend very much on my finds (although the stuff I search for is so obscure it's usually relegated to bargain buckets, nestling alongside Nik Kershaw, Rod Stewart and the like.)
There are, naturally, some cases where I have preferred the sound of a record to digital, however it is by no means a deal breaker when it comes to my listening habits, and it's a theory I didn't necessarily subscribe to for a long time. It was hearing Blondie's last album, the exquisite 'Pollinator' on vinyl that finally persuaded me. Sonically, it sounds rich, warm and dynamic - however the digital version (listened to on Deezer) loses almost all of those qualities, with the exception of Debbie Harry's gorgeous vocals. In this specific case, the digital version renders the mix completely flat, with wince inducing cymbal crashes, swampy bass, and synth lines that sound like they were tracked underwater. Even Clem Burke's drums sound like biscuit tins. Cases like this are, at least in my experience, few and far between, and as I'm writing this I can actually only conjure one other example where, in terms of sound, vinyl was marginally superior (Billy Idol's 'Rebel Yell', in case you're wondering).
More generally speaking, the concept of an audiophile has a couple of inherent flaws. The first is that as humans, no two of us are the same; we will all hear things in an individual way by sheer virtue of the fact that we are all physically built differently, and no two sets of ears are the same. The second is the extremely subjective nature of music; two people, even if they adore a particular genre or track, will naturally have an independent, nuanced opinion and personal interpretation of whatever they are listening to.
There is also a prevalent narrative amongst most audiophiles that one must spend significant sums of money in order to achieve perceived auditory nirvana; in my experience, absolutely not so. High end audio equipment can run well into the thousands, and that's just for a home Hi-Fi; and to my ears at least, there is no discernible drop in quality between gear that costs the same as a small moon and my own system - pieced together from various classified advert websites - for around one hundred pounds. The only difference? The components are a bit older.
Whilst I can certainly appreciate good sound quality, I don't consider myself an audiophile per se; for me, enjoying the music itself is the most important thing. Audiophiles get incredibly preoccupied with the quality of the physical media and the sound itself, and the equipment that they play it back on, so much so that more often than not the focus on the music, the art itself, gets lost.
For me, it's more the act of putting on a record (or other physical media for that matter; I'm one of those weird individuals who still buys CDs). One of the simplest pleasures for me is interacting with a piece of art. Slipping the wax from its sheath, sitting it on the turntable, dropping the needle - such a tactile experience, something that is becoming increasingly obsolete in our day to day lives. Plus, you can see your music in a very literal sense, and I suppose it's the same reason I love live music too; that personal engagement with the art itself. And that, at least for me, is my auditory nirvana.
Written by Chris Hughes
Chris, a self styled 'average guitarist extraordinare' is a content manager originally from the UK but now living in Hamburg, Germany. He is a proud European, and loves (in no particular order) music, raking through the dusty shelves of hidden record shops, red wine, cheese, his Gibson SG, and a small stuffed Highland Cow called Mr. Moo.
Food
