He pressed the button, then seated himself. “This is fromThe Cellar Door Sessions, recorded with Miles Davis in 1970.”
Colin felt the music wash over him, invading his space in a manner that headphones did not allow. It rose up in solid yet quiet waves, filling the room. When the cut ended, he breathed a quiet, “Wow.”
“Save your wows. Now listen to this.” Angelo lifted the cover to a turntable, started the motor, set the needle in place, adjusted the amp, and settled back. “Same track.”
When the music ended and Angelo lifted the needle, Colinjust sat there. Trying to come to terms with what he had just heard.
Apparently Angelo found what he desired in Colin’s stunned expression. He stepped around the desk and returned with a cigar and ashtray. Another trip, this time to bring out a bottle and cut-crystal glass. “I take it you’re not interested in single malt.”
“No.”
“Cigar?”
“Yuck.”
“Nix on the cigar. There’s cold Coke in the fridge up front.”
“I don’t … No, thank you.”
“Do I need to show you any more examples of the differences?”
“No.” Colin pointed to the turntable. “I want more of that.”
“Stick with Jarrett?”
“Absolutely.”
From that point, the evening took on a timeless feel, at least for Colin. Between cuts, Angelo explained the key differences dividing digital from analog. He used terms like warmth, richness, and depth. He drew graphs in the air between himself and the system, showing how digital recordings by definition cut segments from the music’s vibratory patterns. How as a result, the digital recording did not capture the complete sound wave.
Each set of comments was limited to only a few sentences. As if the real reason for their time together was the music. Only the music. Then another track was played. Another album slipped from the cardboard sleeve and set on the turntable. As the music started, Angelo settled back, relit his cigar, sipped from his replenished glass. If the barber was in any way affected by the whiskey, he gave no sign.
Angelo returned time and again to his personal favorite album,The Survivors’ Suite, recorded under the guiding hand of Manfred Eicher, the producer behind the young ECM label. Colin personally preferred the orchestral arrangements Jarrett put together under the Impulse label. When he said so, Angelo simply replied, “This young man is seriously addicted to swing.” He switched albums and turned the volume up to where the music vibrated in Colin’s chest.
It was almost eleven when Angelo led him back to the front of the store. Colin found himself reluctant to step into the almost empty mall and release himself from the magic. He stood there by the entrance and said, “The name on your equipment. Bowers and Wilkins.”
Angelo nodded approval. “Some people like to mix and match. I prefer a system built to fit together. Or so it seems to me.”
“I like that idea. Very much.”
“So remember it, tuck it away for when you’re rich and famous.” Angelo offered his hand. “Young man, it’s been a pleasure.”
Colin thanked him, wishing there was something stronger he could say. He walked the silent corridor, phoned for an Uber, and carried the scent of Angelo’s cigar out into the night.
CHAPTER34
The next morning, Colin was waiting outside the salon when Angelo arrived at half past ten. Colin offered him a plastic shopping bag. “I got you these.”
The man made no move to accept. “You didn’t need—”
“The salesman said the Blue Note reissues will soon be making waves. He played me cuts from the Grant Green album. Their system isn’t nearly as good as yours. Plus the store was noisy.”
“Which is why I don’t bother with analog out front. Why risk messing up a good thing?” He took the bag, looked inside, said, “You got me …”
“Their latest five albums.”
“Colin, no. It’s too much.”
“Yesterday was my birthday. What you did, it’s the best gift I ever received.” He was already backing way, keeping Angelo from giving back the bag. “The salesman said you can exchange any you don’t want.”
