In many situations the old axiom “You get what you pay for” holds some modicum of truth. Subject to variances in personal taste and less often in the realms of art and music, the axiom, nevertheless, typically holds true when comparing apples to apples.
Often, its veracity develops some ragged edges when the objects to which we are applying it rise into the rarefied market of stratospheric pricing that defines the top end of fashion, food, watches and cars, and the subject of this diatribe: audiophile accessories.
I recently read an article in a respected periodical that described an evening that the writer, Alex Halberstadt spent in the company of one Holger Stein, whom he describes as “one of the oddest and fascinating people” he has ever met in the pursuit of his audiophile career and hobby.
Mr. Stein (and his wife Gabi) had traveled from their homeland of Germany to New York City, Mr. Halberstadt’s “noisy, dirty beloved, exasperating home.” After dinner at one of New York’s trendy eateries where one pays a “ridiculous bill” after eating in an “infernally dark” dining room, the party moved to a nearby public listening space / bar where one can sip craft cocktails while listening to recorded music reproduced on often unique and grand reproduction systems. Featuring esoteric components, these systems are usually beyond the size and reach of most audiophile’s limited finances and size-constrained listening spaces, giving them an opportunity to hear and see systems they could otherwise never hope to experience.
To avoid the risk of being accused of plagiarism, I will use some quotes to summarize the events that transpired as the trio settled in and joined the crowd in the “packed and noisy” bar. Mr. Halberstadt, an experienced, respected professional audiophile and writer, described the bar’s sound system that consisted of a “possibly solid state” amplifier powering a pair of “wall mounted horn speakers” as “loud, muddy, and not even slightly euphonious.”
This apparently prompted Mr. Stein to produce from his pocket two “white plastic disks about the size of Eisenhower dollars” and asked that one be placed in the mouth of each of the wall-mounted horn speakers. Alex Halberstadt then writes, “the music in the bar suddenly became easier to hear, more melodic, and entirely more coherent, even with all the revelry around it. I shit you not.”
Then the odd Holger Stein stuck another of these discs on the wall opposite the speakers using a two-sided adhesive pad, (which I assume he had also produced from his pocket), after which Alex comments “kick me if the music didn’t now sound more vivid and easier to follow.” He followed with, “Some of the bar’s paying customers were beginning to take notice.”
Now, I will digress for a moment to a larger and more complex subject into which I have invested considerable thought and because of which, have spent considerable money over my long amateur audiophile lifetime.
In the audiophile world there are, of course, numerous different levels of equipment, devices, and accessories, many of which follow the foundational axiom of these comments, “You get what you pay for.” Do you? It seems that, as in many matters of taste and style, once the level reaches beyond the esoteric into the rarefied air of a near cultish following, methods, materials, designs, and efficacy become a contradictory, paradoxical free-for-all.
Phono cartridge bodies carved from 21,000 year-old Siberian mammoth tusk for playing mono records ($11,250), zirconium / gold power cords with “anti-aerial resonance Tesla coils” ($119,000 for 6m length), and ~1.5” diameter plastic discs ($142 ea.) three of which can instantly transform a noisy “loud, muddy” New York bar full of reveling patrons into a coherent listening space.
These products, and many like them, depend on a symbiotic relationship between the producers / sellers and the expert reviewers who insist on their clear usefulness in extracting the last little bit of sonic satisfaction from a potential customer’s listening room. Mr. Halberstadt is convincing when he states that a couple of these $142 Acoustic Disks from his “weird” friend Holger actually reduced record groove noise when he placed them on top of his $3500 Reynaud Bliss Jubilé speakers in his own home’s stereo system. Groove noise!
This intertwined symbiotic ecosystem of producers, reviewers, and customers is completely interdependent because, if not for glowing reviews, no customer would consider this kind of outlay unless thoroughly convinced by a reputable authority of the product’s worth and effectiveness, of its potential to add a certain “magic” to their listening space.
It is this assurance that the product will provide a noticeable return on one’s investment that allows globe-trotting producers and writers to schmooze in restaurants “where people go to be seen” and attend multi-million dollar equipment expositions like the recently concluded world’s largest audio expo, Axpona 2026, and the High End Munich show, which moves to Vienna for 2026.
If the writers didn’t fawn, the buyers wouldn’t buy, and the producers would have no need to produce. I can’t truthfully say that a couple of Acoustic Discs don’t reduce groove noise for several reasons, not the least of which is that I no longer play vinyl in my listening room. What matters is that Alex thinks that they do and he chose to write about it for his magazine’s ~60K subscribers and clickers on their 2 million digital page views per month.
Alex will write, readers will read and believe, Holger will produce and sell a few more discs, and everyone involved will experience an improvement in their condition. That’s what keeps the system lubricated and the economy strong. Who am I to say that anything is wrong with this picture when the vast majority of people who are fortunate enough to have a listening room used “disposable” income to create and support their habit. By the very definition, they are “throwing their money away” so who cares where they choose to throw it.
I shit you not.
