Editor Mike Silverton contributed to the print bi-monthly Fanfare first as a columnist and later as a reviewer for about a dozen years before he proposed to Madrigal Audio Laboratories that they sponsor an Internet music review. Thus La Folia. (The sponsorship ended with Madrigal Labs’ demise. La Folia has since operated absent sponsorship or ads.) In addition to having contributed articles to Stereo Review, The Absolute Sound, and most recently, StereoTimes.com, Silverton produced poetry readings for Pacifica Radio (WBAI, KPFA, KPFK), WNYC and the New School for Social Research dogs’ lifetimes ago. His own poetry has appeared in anthologies compiled by the late William Cole, poetry mags, Harper’s and The Nation. More recently Silverton has shown his art at Aarhus Gallery, Belfast, Maine, and the Center for Maine Contemporary Art. A two-CD set, Analogue Smoque, Pogus 21029-2, features Silverton reading his texts to musical accompaniments by Tom Hamilton and Al Margolis. Silvertonresides with his wife Lee, an artist, in an 1842 town house on the coast of Maine (in which Jefferson Davis spent a night in 1854).
This manner of magical thinking suggests that electronic components floating, so to speak, on air ought to produce a sound of spectral delicacy.
Let’s spice things up with a provocation: In your reporter’s opinion, this IPC array will deliver a greater improvement to a perfectionist’s audio system than any upgrade of electronic essentials or cabling.
It doesn’t often happen that an audio journalist is among the first in his corner of the world to celebrate a remarkable product line.
My too-early listening – at a low volume setting so as not to disturb Best Beloved – includes late-Feldman anything and, these days especially, Haydn’s string quartets most handsomely performed on the Tacet label by Auryn Quartet.
I like to think of myself as a man of (tenuously connected) parts…
My interest in audio, with breaks in continuity, began in the mono era. In all that time I’ve not encountered stand-alone devices as effective and, to be honest, as mysterious as these endearing pulse generators.
Footsteps! And whilst I wonder, be it she, my visage encounters an amusing cream pie. The Gypsies are thunderstruck. Flat out astonished down to the ground.
Once upon a recent time a husband and wife’s old front-loading washing machine began making alarming sounds.
Perhaps I’m reading into what I hear: a trace of melancholy sentiment in a flawless execution…