Recordings That Rocked My World

First published in The Absolute Sound, Issue 108. Copyright © 1996 by Absolute Multimedia. Reprinted with permission.

Music has been the primary shaping force of my life. Not audiophilia, music—even though I'm as rabid an audiophile as anyone, my fixation on music reproduction systems is but a small subset. I listen to music constantly (I can't even work in silence). I've been playing a musical instrument of some kind since I was eight, and my devotion to the electric guitar is unabashedly fetishistic. My house was named "The Musical Kingdom" by a friend soon after I moved in; a sensory overload of modern and vintage audio gear, musical instruments, amplifiers, signal processors, recording equipment, records, tapes, sheet music, old radios...not to mention The Elvis Bathroom. Other than loved ones, music in all its multifaceted manifestations is the most important thing in my life.

Being an audiophile might be a small subset of my overall love of music, but it's a very important one. All my life, I've been lucky to enjoy music over good-sounding-systems, by happy accident and later by choice, from the warm post-birth sounds of mom's tube radio to the mellow mono of the big black Emud console in the living room and beyond. Of course, I wasn't born with a silver interconnect in my hand; my awareness of high end audio and musically exceptional recordings happened over time. And while equipment upgrades were a crucial part of the experience, the true emotional epiphanies mostly came when I heard those all-too-rare exceptional recordings that combined incredible music with dazzling sonics. Sure, most of my favorite music wasn't and isn't particularly well recorded—I never let sound quality affect my enjoyment of the music, but when the stars are all in alignment and one hears a truly great recording on a system that can do it justice, the experience is a revelation.

Here then is a brief tour of the recordings that have rocked my world. For the most part, I'm not going into microscopic analysis of every sonic detail—take my word, these records are all something special.

The Wonder Years

Although I grew up in the Fifties and Sixties listening to the greatest AM pop music that ever was and ever will be through nothing but vivacious, voluptuous vacuum tubes, I didn't know what high end audio even was, or that recordings sounded any different from one another (in fact, they all sounded great, the product of post-war technological ingenuity, didn't they?). Until I was a teenager and my father bought me My Own Stereo back in the early Seventies—a Panasonic receiver, turntable and speaker for the then-huge total of $200. I took it home, deliriously excited, and decided which record would be The First To Be Played—Neil Young's Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere [Reprise RS 6349], a guitar-athon containing some of Young's most classic (even then) songs like "Down By The River" and "Cinnamon Girl." My first few minutes were spent listening in utter shock. It took a while to comprehend what I was hearing—the two guitars were each coming out of a different speaker! Instead of superimposed, they each occupied their own sonic space! I had never heard such a thing, and was astonished enough to call my parents into the room to hear it with me! I couldn't sleep that night, and spent the next few weeks watching the clock at school, waiting to get home so I could play yet another record in my collection and hear it anew. I got big into this instrumental separation thing, amazed that I could hear the music with which I thought I was so intimately familiar in a whole new dimension—and those were the days of hard-left-right stereo mixing in pop music, so it was as if the record producers knew to feed my new-found stereo jones.

I soon discovered that even on my mid-fi system, certain records sounded obviously better than others—clearer, less muddy, with more presence. I spent months enthralled upon hearing the distinctness of instruments and vocals in those recordings that especially stood out. Foremost among them were the extra planetary guitars of Jimi Hendrix's Electric Ladyland [Reprise 2RS-6307], a record so far advanced from the conventional pop song structures I'd been accustomed to that I literally could not comprehend what I was hearing at first, the swirling, flanged, processed sounds of the guitars and vocals flying around my head as much as they were between the speakers; to me, the sound of another world. Along with Hendrix, the musical influence of Frank Zappa was incalculable, and among the many of his albums I hungrily devoured, the intricacies of his orchestrations in Zappa's sprawling, ambitious two-record Uncle Meat [Bizarre MS-2024] were the ones that blew my mind the most. They were also the most well recorded—the remarkable instrumental clarity, separation and dynamic range holding together even during some of the sections with forty-plus overdubs!

Even though I was a hard core rocker fit to ride in Wayne and Garth's Mirthmobile those days (like to think I still am, appearances of gentility aside), I was immensely influenced by jazz as well, fascinated and often overwhelmed by its harmonic complexity and instrumental virtuosity. Larry Coryell's Spaces [Vanguard VSD 6558] was a pivotal influence on me—the virtuosic guitar playing of Coryell and John McLaughlin, combined with the telepathic instrumental brilliance of Billy Cobham (drums), Miroslav Vitous (bass) and Chick Corea (piano), and near-Super-Disc sound quality dazzled me time and again—and still does. (Sonically, this is one of the best jazz discs ever recorded.) Somehow, I managed to get my homework done too.

Higher Education

Soon it was off to college, where I met many people who were into music a much as I was. Many of whom had better stereos than me, some even approaching high end by the standards of the day—Eico and Dynaco power amps, big-ass Marantz and Fisher receivers, speakers by AR, EPI, Ohm and Advent; Dual, Thorens and Philips turntables (remember the one with the green lights that switched functions at the merest touch? What advanced high-tech)! And the extraordinary wealth of music—college was musical heaven (Is it still today? I hope so.) As a result, I got to hear my favorite records sounding better than I could have imagined. Also, at this time my long-time friend Bob Reina played his real high end system for me—the first I'd heard. Through Dahlquist DQ-10s and other speakers, it was as if I was hearing music for the first time, and my world shifted on its well-tempered axis. I didn't know there was that much bass on records, or that you could hear instruments and vocals place in a distinct location in three-dimensional space, or that all that detail was in those grooves! Now, I was having trouble getting my homework done, darkening the doors of friends with good systems. The first time I heard Steely Dan's Countdown to Ecstasy [ABC ABCX-779], I nearly passed out. The crystalline acoustic and electric guitars; the ability to hear every nuance of Donald Fagen's sardonic vocals, the sheer weight and opulence of the arrangements...I never dreamed music could sound that good. Or how about that late-night time we were all sprawled on the floor, listening to Led Zeppelin's "No Quarter" from Houses of the Holy [Atlantic SD-7255] beaming down to us from ceiling-mounted Advents—there's a part after Plant sings, "the dogs of doom are howling low," and this synthesizer fades in from nowhere to permeate the spaces between the atoms of our bodies? Talk about high fidelity!

I listened to more records at that time of my life than ever since. There were hundreds that stood out musically; among the ones that were sonic mindblowers in addition those two: Jeff Beck, Blow By Blow [Epic PE-33409]—to this day, I get choked up hearing the soaring majesty of Beck's guitar on "'Cause We've Ended As Lovers"—although the dynamic compression means you have to turn it up loud to really enjoy the warm sonics to their fullest; Genesis, Selling England By The Pound [The famous Charisma Label FC-6060]—like almost all the early Genesis records with Peter Gabriel, musically enchanting and sonically spellbinding; how many times have I gotten lost within the myriad riches of its opulent musical textures?; and Lou Reed's depressing, depraved Berlin [RCA APL1-0207]; The Strawbs' musically and sonically gorgeous Hero and Heroine [A & M SP-3607]; the twisted psychedelic, sonic acuity of Love in Love Revisited [Elektra EKS-74058]...my English teachers taught me to avoid run-on sentences but it's hard not to run on raving about such astonishing recordings.

This recording ain't the greatest, bit I just can't resist throwing in this irreverent aside: I will never forget the sheer bass impact of the Kiss song, "Black Diamond" from their eponymously-titled first album [Casablanca NBLP-9001]. The girls next door were pissing us off because they were deliberately keeping their hair dryers on to interfere with our TV reception one night, so we retaliated by aiming a pair of EPI 150s into the hallway and cranking "Black Diamond" at outrageous volume. The song ends with a bass note that is slowed down to an ominous rumble, and on even a pair of EPI 150s it's an ungodly room-rattling racket. We used to play it all the time for a cheap sonic thrill. And it sure was a bad hair night for the girls.

(High End In The) Home At Last

After graduation, I started working (in a music store, duh), and finally was able to buy some of the Good Stuff like those Dahlquists I wanted since the second I heard 'em. My enjoyment of recorded sound took leap after leap forward, as each upgrade brought about uncontrolled bouts of raving audiophile hysteria. Think I'm kidding? When I needed a new cartridge after I had worn out my ADC XLM III, I called Bob Reina for upgrade advice; he recommended the "$15 Grado" GTE+1. "No Bob, I want a good cartridge." "It'll blow away your XLM III." Hmmm...I installed it in the T-60, cued up the 12-inch of ABC's "The Look Of Love," (no, not that "Look Of Love"...) [Neutron NTX 103], and...oh my g-d! The sounds! The detail! What am I hearing—all those instruments, those scintillating triangles...I can hear each string in the background—where did they come from? I called Bob's machine and raved on and on; each time the machine cut me off I left another message...Bob says he still has the tape.

Once again it seemed as if the record producers were in sync with my listening habits, as this was the late Seventies/early Eighties, and I was seriously into New Wave dance music. Many of the 12-inch singles and album cuts from this era are sonically phenomenal, as well as having the ability to adrenalize the limbic system to a frenzied degree. Among the sonic blockbusters that I just couldn't get enough of were: New Order, "Blue Monday"; [Factory Factus 10] Tom Tom Club, "Genius Of Love"; [Island 12WIP 6735] and Heaven 17, "Penthouse and Pavement" [Virgin VS455-12] and "Let Me Go." Believe me, there were many other incredible-sounding 12-inchers during that time; those were the sonic killer-among-killers. Along with those titanic 45s were some truly fantastic albums that knocked the entire corpulent, vacuous Seventies rock world Humpty-Dumpty flat, that also sounded fantastic—the monumental London Calling by the Clash; [Epic E2-36328] the quirky masterpiece that is Talking Heads '77; [Elektra 7E-1098] and the still-sounds-like-the-twenty-second century brilliance of Kraftwerk's Computer World. [Warner Bros. HS-3549, Computerwelt is the German-language version]..Man, what fun it was dancing until the sun came up in all those clubs, listening to my stereo for hours every single-guy night and playing gigs in the infamous New York dives...it couldn't last, had to stop, we drained it all to the last drop.

I also must single out Steely Dan's Aja [ABC AA-1006]. When I first heard this, to me, it was the pinnacle of everything pop music was supposed to be, and I was utterly overwhelmed by Becker and Fagen's obliquely memorable melodies, flat-out genius chord changes, brilliant production and arrangements and stunningly clean sound. Twenty years later, if anything I am even more awed by this LP, a towering musical achievement.

Satori At Sea Cliff

I suppose it was inevitable that I wound up writing for TAS—I had been a reader for years, knew a few staffers who had been prodding me to write, and after retiring from the rock and roll gigging scene, needed a creative outlet—and the magazine needed rock and pop music writers. Little did I realize when I first started writing that it would turn into a full-time job—and that I would spend thousands of on and off-duty hours with HP listening to hundreds of the finest recordings ever produced on assemblages of high end equipment that can only be described as transcendental. (My home system was excellent at this point, true, but the Sea Cliff systems were extraordinary.) Sure, there were times when the systems sounded haggard—sometimes we had to test less-than-cosmic gear, and sometimes S**t Happened (there were at least a hundred times I wanted to smash it all up with an ax), but when things were right, the sound was astonishing; spellbinding magic. We didn't just listen—we became immersed in profound emotional experiences—how can I describe the feeling of hearing the music sound as if it was not only right there, but that you were totally immersed in it? If I waxed ecstatic about all the truly remarkable recordings I experienced in the more than half a decade I served as an acolyte at the Altar of Audio, it would fill this whole book. But the ultimate of ultimates...

Casino Royale, Dusty Springfield, "The Look Of Love." Yeah, I know. But it's true. This is the most incredible female vocal ever recorded. Sure, the sound quality is unparalleled, but that would be a big So What—if it weren't for the fact that Dusty's performance is so insinuatingly erotically electrifying, so convincingly heartfelt. Every time I hear her sing this, I can barely breathe.

Fiesta In Hi Fi [Mercury SR 90134]

Maybe you've read my recounting of The First Time I Heard HP's System, And How It Changed My Life Forever (Issue 101); before playing the first LP, HP looked me in the eye with blazing intensity and said, "I just want to tell you, if you walk into this room your life will never be the same from this moment on." Truer words were never uttered—the experience was so sonically and emotionally overwhelming that even now, when I think about it, it seems more like some kind of mystical hallucinatory dream than something that actually happened. No words can describe the impact the sound of that system had on me. The first classical piece HP played for me was "Savannah River Holiday," and I swear to G-d all my assumptions about not only high end sound but reality itself were instantly toppled, as those strings, brass and percussion swept me away with...how can I express it in terms of amazing frequency extension, delineation of every instrument of a symphony orchestra floating in virtual space right in front of you, thrilling dynamics...I can't. Words fail. I hope all of you have the opportunity to hear such sound at some point in your lives.

The Very Best Of Roy Orbison [Monument SLP-18045]

I had been listening to my Main Man Orbison all my life, and thought I knew what his records sounded like. Well, when I first heard him on The Big Rig, I think the atoms of my body must have temporarily dissociated. I get dizzy now even thinking of it—the majestic sweep of his multi-octave range, singing songs about lost love and romance gone astray in that never-to-be-equaled, soaring, titanic voice—sounding for all the world like Roy Orbison was right in front of me, his vocal power vibrating my entire body.

Rimsky-Korsakov, Scheherazade [RCA LSC-2446]

Again, it sounds like the rote audiophile response—but there's a reason why this record is considered possibly the greatest of the greats. Never mind the magnificent sound—you can hear every nuance and inflection of every instrument; the dynamic range is unparalleled and the time-machine sensation of being present at the original performance is staggering—the performance, driven and I mean driven by Reiner's conducting as a man possessed is utterly electrifying. One of the most astonishing recordings the Hand Of Man has ever produced.

Jim Dawson, Songman [Kama Sutra KSBS-2035]

Actually, this is one of my all-time favorites, period, and I am grateful to you ,Harry, for turning me on to it. Beautifully-crafted songs, remarkably natural and uncolored sound using acoustic instruments, lyrics that speak to the essence of humanity an every one of us, sung by Jim Dawson with remarkable depth and passion. Without a doubt, to me, these lines in "Songman" sums up the Meaning Of Life more than any other piece of music I have ever heard: La, la la la, la la la, la la la, sing a simple song/We all belong/Only to Time....

What Next, Daddy-O?

In the short time since I left TAS full-time (Note: in 1995), I haven't heard a lot of new music (or new-old music from hundreds of garage sale LPs as yet unauditioned), for a variety of reasons—new job, new son (Note: and since this article was written, a daughter too), the need to walk away from the whole listening to music-as-sound high end "thing" for a while, and the opportunity to play more guitar in the time spent not reviewing. I've heard nothing so far that I would place in pantheon of recordings that have had an incalculable part of shaping my life, though I have heard one spectacular one: Miles Davis: The Complete Plugged Nickel Sessions [Mosaic MQ10-158], whose performances and sound place it among the greatest jazz recordings ever released; I listen to it in utter amazement. But then, the rest of my life is just beginning, and the fortune teller told me I have a long life ahead....