Andre Jute
December 12th 05, 03:30 AM
Originally published in 1999, reprinted as a memorial.
ARTICULATING THE HIGH END
Significantly shtupping the daughters of the Daughters of the American
Revolution
André Jute reviews
The Search for Musical Ecstasy by Harvey Rosenberg
published by Image Marketing Group, Stamford, CT 06907 tel (203)
357-7600 fax (203) 967 9100
Harvey 'Gizmo' Rosenberg was born of Jewish parents nearly sixty years
ago. His mother probably wished that the gizmos he preferred to toys
would a violin. I'm giving you the stereotype first, because without it
we would not have The Giz telling us what to think about the high end.
If Harvey Rosenberg could play an instrument, or if he could sing, he
would not write about audio. We would all be poorer.
Rosenberg is a legend as the man who made Julius Futterman and his OTL
(output transformerless) hi-fi amplifier topology famous by bringing it
to market. He is also a legend, among some of the more uptight, prep
school Protestant writers on audio (that's most of them) for what they
consider the egregious gush of his writing about audio. The Giz writes
sorta like Tom Wolfe before several editors toned him the hell down,
and he got old and tired, and the flow fizzed. Fortunately for us, The
Giz has always been in a position to pay for the publication of his own
kandy-kolored genuine metalflake naughyde prose, first as
advertisements for his firm New York Audio Laboratories and latterly in
his books, so avoiding the depradations of editors. I suspect that the
editors of the magazines he writes for are too intimidated by the flow
of words to dare tone him down--or perhaps they understand that this
excess is far from wretched, it is a glorious passion.
Gizmo isn't just an audiophile, nor just an enthusiast for the high
end, by golly no! He is a fully fledged audioxtasist. And not only is
he one of those, he wants a man like you, a lover of fine electronics
and Harley-Davidsons--you are, aren't you?--to bond with him in that
great revolution of music in the home.
This is not the love that dares not speak its name. Our Harvey is alone
and childless, as he admits and despairs of in his book, because he
spent all his passion on the search for musical reproduction rather
than on the more obvious pursuits.
In fact, Rosenberg has the politically incorrect commitment to
truthfulness to point out that audioxtasism is an exclusively male
avocation--and the brass balls explicitly to regret it in the face of
the rednecked trailer park trash who in their search for a place to
hide from their own inadequacies have been invading the high end waving
their NRA cards and Bring Back the Bra banners as signals of their
chauvinistic exclusivity.
But you're right, the entire book is about sex.
It is a commonplace that rock'n'roll, the people's poetry, is the great
revolution of the twentieth century. To many it feels like the right
and intuitive thing to say, even thought like all sweeping cultural
statements it is at best only partially true; that is exactly what
makes the thoughtful among us think twice before saying it except
deliberately to rub the unholy. But our Harvey is not embarrassed to
say it.
And only Harvey Rosenberg comes up with the compelling proof: all those
rock'n'rollers shtupping the daughters of the Daughters of the American
Revolution. What is a revolution but the new classes conjugating with
the daughters of the old? It takes a genius not to scorn the obvious
when it is true.
There's a lot of electronics in this book, including a number of good
schematics definitely worth building. Harvey even prints an early
Futterman design, which almost bancrupted him, with a warning not to
build it. The capacitance on the wiring is critical. As the sort of
infuriating fellow who always drove Porsches from the days when they
were nothing more than jumped-up Volkswagens--and equally reliable, I
do relish my bit of schadenfreude when I find some fellow who loves an
unreliable Ferrari! At p256 Rosenberg, generally a nice man, sneers at
the sort of fellow who drives a reliable, useful Porsche, in preference
to something faster without air conditioning.
Harvey's pain is written all over this book; he lets it all hang out.
He also lets his joy in music hang out. In fact, the major part of the
book is a guide for people of culture seeking a path to the higher
plane of ecstasy. And that isn't California bull****. The Giz has been
there. He keeps slipping back. He keeps finding a new path. He writes
it down, in a form we can all grasp and understand, because no-one else
has the confidence to let it hang out like that. "A man with a mission
should have no embarrasment."
The Search for Musical Ecstasy is not indexed. It is probably
impossible to index, but I would like to have some of my least
favourite editors try! It is an infuriating book to search in for
anything, though the illustrations, of which there are hundreds, do
serve as mnemonics.
But then the bible isn't indexed either. The parallel is exact. The
Search for Musical Ecstasy is the Kabala of High Fidelity. I recommend
that you make space for it on your lavatory bookshelf right next to the
Mosaic Tables of Fidelity, Langford-Smith's RDH. You will want to dip
into it that often.
Copyright ©1999 Andre Jute
André Jute was educated at universities in South Africa, Australia and
the United States in psychology, economics and business management. He
has worked in advertising, management consulting, and as a political
and military advisor, and is now Chairman of the graphic and industrial
design house Communication Jute. He is a distinguished novelist and
writes a column on classical music read every week by 9.2m music
lovers. Before taking up tube amp design, he designed and built
complete automobiles.
ARTICULATING THE HIGH END
Significantly shtupping the daughters of the Daughters of the American
Revolution
André Jute reviews
The Search for Musical Ecstasy by Harvey Rosenberg
published by Image Marketing Group, Stamford, CT 06907 tel (203)
357-7600 fax (203) 967 9100
Harvey 'Gizmo' Rosenberg was born of Jewish parents nearly sixty years
ago. His mother probably wished that the gizmos he preferred to toys
would a violin. I'm giving you the stereotype first, because without it
we would not have The Giz telling us what to think about the high end.
If Harvey Rosenberg could play an instrument, or if he could sing, he
would not write about audio. We would all be poorer.
Rosenberg is a legend as the man who made Julius Futterman and his OTL
(output transformerless) hi-fi amplifier topology famous by bringing it
to market. He is also a legend, among some of the more uptight, prep
school Protestant writers on audio (that's most of them) for what they
consider the egregious gush of his writing about audio. The Giz writes
sorta like Tom Wolfe before several editors toned him the hell down,
and he got old and tired, and the flow fizzed. Fortunately for us, The
Giz has always been in a position to pay for the publication of his own
kandy-kolored genuine metalflake naughyde prose, first as
advertisements for his firm New York Audio Laboratories and latterly in
his books, so avoiding the depradations of editors. I suspect that the
editors of the magazines he writes for are too intimidated by the flow
of words to dare tone him down--or perhaps they understand that this
excess is far from wretched, it is a glorious passion.
Gizmo isn't just an audiophile, nor just an enthusiast for the high
end, by golly no! He is a fully fledged audioxtasist. And not only is
he one of those, he wants a man like you, a lover of fine electronics
and Harley-Davidsons--you are, aren't you?--to bond with him in that
great revolution of music in the home.
This is not the love that dares not speak its name. Our Harvey is alone
and childless, as he admits and despairs of in his book, because he
spent all his passion on the search for musical reproduction rather
than on the more obvious pursuits.
In fact, Rosenberg has the politically incorrect commitment to
truthfulness to point out that audioxtasism is an exclusively male
avocation--and the brass balls explicitly to regret it in the face of
the rednecked trailer park trash who in their search for a place to
hide from their own inadequacies have been invading the high end waving
their NRA cards and Bring Back the Bra banners as signals of their
chauvinistic exclusivity.
But you're right, the entire book is about sex.
It is a commonplace that rock'n'roll, the people's poetry, is the great
revolution of the twentieth century. To many it feels like the right
and intuitive thing to say, even thought like all sweeping cultural
statements it is at best only partially true; that is exactly what
makes the thoughtful among us think twice before saying it except
deliberately to rub the unholy. But our Harvey is not embarrassed to
say it.
And only Harvey Rosenberg comes up with the compelling proof: all those
rock'n'rollers shtupping the daughters of the Daughters of the American
Revolution. What is a revolution but the new classes conjugating with
the daughters of the old? It takes a genius not to scorn the obvious
when it is true.
There's a lot of electronics in this book, including a number of good
schematics definitely worth building. Harvey even prints an early
Futterman design, which almost bancrupted him, with a warning not to
build it. The capacitance on the wiring is critical. As the sort of
infuriating fellow who always drove Porsches from the days when they
were nothing more than jumped-up Volkswagens--and equally reliable, I
do relish my bit of schadenfreude when I find some fellow who loves an
unreliable Ferrari! At p256 Rosenberg, generally a nice man, sneers at
the sort of fellow who drives a reliable, useful Porsche, in preference
to something faster without air conditioning.
Harvey's pain is written all over this book; he lets it all hang out.
He also lets his joy in music hang out. In fact, the major part of the
book is a guide for people of culture seeking a path to the higher
plane of ecstasy. And that isn't California bull****. The Giz has been
there. He keeps slipping back. He keeps finding a new path. He writes
it down, in a form we can all grasp and understand, because no-one else
has the confidence to let it hang out like that. "A man with a mission
should have no embarrasment."
The Search for Musical Ecstasy is not indexed. It is probably
impossible to index, but I would like to have some of my least
favourite editors try! It is an infuriating book to search in for
anything, though the illustrations, of which there are hundreds, do
serve as mnemonics.
But then the bible isn't indexed either. The parallel is exact. The
Search for Musical Ecstasy is the Kabala of High Fidelity. I recommend
that you make space for it on your lavatory bookshelf right next to the
Mosaic Tables of Fidelity, Langford-Smith's RDH. You will want to dip
into it that often.
Copyright ©1999 Andre Jute
André Jute was educated at universities in South Africa, Australia and
the United States in psychology, economics and business management. He
has worked in advertising, management consulting, and as a political
and military advisor, and is now Chairman of the graphic and industrial
design house Communication Jute. He is a distinguished novelist and
writes a column on classical music read every week by 9.2m music
lovers. Before taking up tube amp design, he designed and built
complete automobiles.