A great system should vanish.
The first time I heard a properly set-up high-end system, I was stunned not by how it sounded but by what was missing. The speakers were gone. In their place was an acoustic space—a recording venue with height, width, and depth so convincing that I forgot about the hardware entirely.
This is the moment every audiophile chases. It’s not about tonal balance alone, though that matters. It’s about spatial coherence—the way instruments occupy precise positions in space, the way a vocal floats between the speakers as if suspended in air. Achieving this requires careful setup: symmetrical placement, correct toe-in, attention to room acoustics, and a listening position that respects the geometry of stereo.
When everything locks in, your brain does something remarkable: it stops processing the system and starts processing the music. That’s when you lean forward involuntarily, or close your eyes, or even hold your breath. It’s as if the performers are right there.
I’ve seen listeners moved to tears by this illusion.
It’s one more reason why we do what we do.
