There is nothing wrong with wanting beautiful things.

A well-designed piece of equipment — one where engineering and aesthetics have come together into something that looks as purposeful as it sounds — adds something real to the experience. Walking into your listening room and seeing a system that pleases the eye sets a mood. Pride in what you own, and pleasure in how it looks, is part of living well. I picked my car with my eyes first. Then it had to live up to the promise.

But there's a bit of a disconnect going on in our hobby.

There are amplifiers and speakers that cost more than some people's homes. These products are often technically exceptional — and when the price reflects genuine engineering achievement, real materials, real innovation, I have no argument with it. But increasingly, some of what commands those prices is luxury dressing: the Swiss-watch finish, the gallery-like showroom, the collector's market that forms around objects of status. The two groups — buyers chasing extraordinary sound and buyers acquiring extraordinary objects — are not always the same, even when they're writing the same check.

What makes me bristle isn't the cost. It's when the cost and the performance stop tracking together.

I've heard extraordinary systems at a fraction of what some extreme gear costs. I've also sat in front of systems worth a small fortune that left me cold. Both kinds of owners believe they're playing the same game. Sometimes they are.

Vanity at a reasonable level is honest and human. Looking at a beautifully made thing and wanting it — that impulse doesn't need defending. Beautiful objects that also perform beautifully are what we're all after.

I'm not arguing against expensive. I'm arguing for keeping our eyes open.

Because at the end of the day, what most of us are hoping to find inside that gorgeous package is performance.

And performance is the only part that plays music.