Hi-Fi Aesthetics
 When I was very young, music
emanated from a big piece of furniture in our living room. Made of brown-stained wood, it
looked less like one of today’s stereos than like a hope chest on steroids. It had
two black fabric panels on the front left and right, false drawer pulls in the middle, and
on the top were two sliding covers. Under the left were a turntable, tuner, and volume
knob. Under the right was a rack filled with records. I was four years old and can’t
tell you how it sounded, but I do remember playing lots of music on it. I especially
remember my father playing records when he got home from work.
When we moved, the big console landed in the kitchen for a
while, and a new stereo appeared in the living room. This one comprised components that
more resembled today’s: black and rectangular, they fit perfectly in their
glass-doored rack. The speakers were bigger than I was at the time, and even my childhood
ears could tell that this thing played music better than that old piece of furniture had.
All of the components were made by the same company, and my parents had purchased the
whole thing together: components, speakers, rack. The big rack of black boxes offered new
ways for me to play: there were lots of buttons to push, and the equalizer gave me the
ability to change the sound as I never had before.
The first system had been built to be unobtrusive, and to
disguise the fact that it was actually a stereo system. It may have had a high
spousal-approval rating, but it was the product of a time when there was more resistance
to electronics invading the home. The second system made the electronics much more visible
-- even with the door closed, you could see the components through the glass -- but still
packed them into a compact cabinet that could be stored in a corner or some other place
out of the way. My mother kept a flowering plant atop the rack, which can’t have been
a good idea. My parents’ stereo choices were dictated by the fact that they wanted
music in the house, but they didn’t want to see what produced that music.
One time, during the era of the big rack of black, my
family visited one of my father’s friends from work. I don’t remember his name,
but at the time he was my favorite of my parents’ friends. Having no dependents other
than a three-legged Russian wolfhound, he was something of an electronics geek and an
early adopter of just about everything. When I finally got an Atari 2600 (a big step up
from Pong), he sent home with my father an unending supply of game cartridges for me to
borrow.
I remember his house as being neat and modern, and in the
living room was a stereo system unlike anything my home experience had prepared me for.
There were silver casings, and bright blue lights behind meters that registered
who-knows-what -- the whole thing had pride of place right across from the main sitting
area, in a large open rack. Big and sexy, it announced in no uncertain terms that it was
serious about playing music.
While all I remember about that system are its dazzling
features and how different it was from our dull, black rack, I now suspect that the
components must have been Marantz or McIntosh (I’d bet on Marantz). They seemed so
much more magical than my parents’ black boxes. Maybe part of the magic was the
better sound, but my eight-year-old self was much more interested in how it all looked. It
was big and looked heavy, the silver gleamed even in the light of living-room lamps, and
the blue lights and dials offered so many more ways to play with these strange and
beautiful machines.
Decades later, most audio components continue to look like
the same black boxes from my parents’ living room. Some components are available in a
silver finish, but it’s often a dull finish that can’t compete with the
almost-mirror-like shine I remember from my father’s friend’s system. Sure, some
expensive components have the old high-end pizzazz, such as those CD players that look
like UFOs, but they’re unusual.
I’ve come across only two mentions of audio equipment
in recent issues of Dwell, a design and architecture magazine I read regularly. One
was an article on MP3 players that concentrated on some innovative designs that have no
chance of taking the iPod’s place. The other was a brief mention of a new Harman
Kardon DVD player that made no mention of its video or audio capabilities, but did comment
on how sleek and cool it looked. True, audio and video components are not often subjects
of articles in Dwell; perhaps part of the reason is because most components have
such dull physical designs.
I know, it should be all about the sound -- but it
isn’t. Unless you hide it in a closet, your stereo is on display. If so, it should
look good. The Outlaw Audio receiver that Jeff Stockton reviews this month has all the
features an audiophile could want, but it also has a design of which owners can be proud
-- its rounded, deco styling is the stuff of retro-futurist dreams. My childhood self
would likely be just as taken with it as I was with my father’s friend’s gear.
I’ve heard manufacturers, critics, and users all say that audio design is as much art
as science. If that’s true, we shouldn’t forget the physical aspects of that
art. Sound may be of paramount importance, but looking good never hurt anyone.
…Eric D. Hetherington
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