by Dan Watkins

For a number of years, I’ve found myself strangely fascinated by the world of what I affectionately refer to as audiophile nonsense. It’s an interest that I generally observe from a distance, though, as I frankly do not have the sort of income required to truly indulge in a hobby as expensive as hi-fi audio. Nonetheless, I enjoy flipping through catalogs of pricey audiophile equipment the way some guys do car magazines. I get a kick out of seeing the extravagant lengths some people are willing to go to make sure that Aja sounds just right in their dedicated listening chamber. It’s insane and ridiculous, but what if they’re onto something?

by Dan Watkins

I tend to credit my parents with unintentionally guiding me down my path of music obsession. In the dark, cold days before the internet and Spotify, their record collection was an invaluable resource that fed and educated my musical fixation. Their extensive collection established the basis of my musical palate. For instance, if I’ve ever made your eyes glaze over while talking about Frank Zappa, you can place the blame squarely on my dad. My parents' music library did have one major shortcoming: Aside from a few exceptions, their collection basically ended right around 1980. It turns out this was fairly representative of their taste overall, as they generally have very little to say about music from the 1980s and beyond. By their early 30s, current music had seemingly ceased to be a major concern for them, and most of their everyday listening consisted of music from their youth. In fairness, I can imagine that staying on top of new music trends might become a low priority once you’re busy raising two kids, working full-time jobs, paying a mortgage, and tending to other grown-up responsibilities that are supposedly more important than the new Killdozer album.