Vinyl records aren’t perfect, but their imperfections are part of the magic.
One of the reasons is crosstalk. A phono cartridge, by design, allows a bit of left-channel signal to bleed into the right and vice versa. On paper, that’s a flaw. But in practice, it mimics what happens in the real world. Sound from one instrument doesn’t only hit one ear—it bleeds across, adding depth and dimensionality. That small amount of overlap actually enhances stereo imaging, creating a sense of space that can feel more natural than the hyper-isolation of digital playback.
Vinyl also excels at revealing microdynamics—the small, expressive changes in a musician’s performance. Whether it’s the breath behind a vocal or the pressure of a bow on strings, analog often captures those subtleties with a kind of realism that’s hard to replicate. Part of that may come from the absence of digital filters. Part of it may just be the mechanical nature of the medium.
Of course, vinyl demands care. Cartridge alignment, VTA, azimuth—all of it matters. But when it’s right, the soundstage opens up and the system disappears.
Vinyl isn’t convenient, and it certainly isn’t perfect. But in the right system, it offers something beautifully human—flawed, dimensional, and full of life.
