A Clean, Good-Sounding Place: BRILLIANT CORNERS

In a scene from The Silence of the Lambs-a film that for all of its camp happens to be nearly perfect-FBI cadet Clarice Starling asks caged psycho-path Hannibal Lecter for help in figuring out a serial killer's motives. "Do we seek out things to covet?" Lecter responds, following Starling with his eyes as though she were his next meal. "No," he continues, "we begin by coveting what we see every day."

- ALEX HALBERSTADT

Lecter's astute observation applies equally well to audiophilia. Much of this hobby consists of coveting: before we own a component, we usually spend a long while imagining all the ways it will improve our lives.

And how do we begin to covet? In my case, my father's hi-fi introduced me to the practice of close listening. It was cobbled together from mostly Soviet-bloc gear, and the fact that it didn't sound particularly good was rather beside the point. What mattered was participating in his ritual of putting on a record, sitting down in front of the speakers, and sharing a contemplative experience. The illuminated altar created by his small stack of components still appears in my dreams.

While working at my first job, I was introduced to better sound by a colleague who became a lifelong friend. Boris listened to ProAc Future One floor standers driven by the gaudy-looking but lovely sounding VAC Renaissance Thirty/Thirty power amplifier, with bits converted by a dCS Purcell DAC. Boris listened mostly to classical CDs, and his system played them with nearly electrostatic clarity and remarkable ease, despite the well-known pitfalls of early digital sound.

Because of these formative experiences, I knew early on that close listening at home using perfectionist gear was something people did-and something I was going to pursue. While working with Boris, I haunted hi-fi salons for deals on used gear that would eventually replace my very modest college system. A lifelong interest was sparked.