【Cleopatra’s Daydream × Pastel Piano: A Hi-Fi Discussion】
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This time we’re spinning off for a bit of a palate cleanser. Taking inspiration from the latter half of the tweets republished in yesterday’s entry, “On the Definitions of Audio Terminology @ Twitter Log 6“, I’ve rewritten the content here with the original desktop-audio beginner reader in mind.
Exchanging messages with all manner of people on Twitter, I keep being made aware of the fact that there is no shortage of misunderstanding around the specialised terminology particular to Hi-Fi, and that this is quite often a source of stress for people. So this time I’d like to try explaining how to read those audio terms that are so often dismissed as mere “poetry”. To begin with, audio terminology falls mainly into two broad categories: one is simply terminology derived from the technical language of science and engineering. The other — and the one that so often causes trouble — is the language of sensory description: expressions that have been devised and handed down over the years by the media and by critics as a means of conveying “sound quality” in writing.
This is aimed at the majority of readers who will have had few opportunities to actually handle products or sit down for a proper audition — and in that sense it is not entirely unlike trying to convey, say, the image quality characteristics and handling feel of a camera, or the build quality and driving character of a car, in words. In the case of audio, however, there is the added dimension that the unique expressions used to describe “sound” in words, and the techniques of music criticism developed to articulate “music” in words, have become intertwined — with the result that a whole variety of sensory, abstract descriptive expressions and metaphors have been devised, in their various ways, by critics over the years, and that is how we have arrived at where we are today.
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Truth be told, even I, the author of AUDIO STYLE, back when I had only just started reading audio magazines as a junior high school student, was so infuriated by the parade of peculiar descriptive expressions — convinced they were some kind of alien language — that I once filled in a survey postcard to a certain well-known magazine publisher, covering it top to bottom in a letter of protest. Looking back now it was nothing more nor less than a classic bout of adolescent self-importance, but whoever read that postcard must have looked upon it with a warm if slightly bemused eye, because I ended up winning the prize draw on that very card — which is rather a fond memory now.
To get to a point where you can understand audio’s distinctive descriptive expressions with any degree of accuracy, the approach is much the same as for many an audiophile: read widely in magazines and books, get used to the expressions and phrasings that critics have coined, and in this day and age, read reviews written by professional critics on the web — listening to the various products yourself, and reading carefully to see what words the professionals use to describe the “sound” and “sound quality”. Getting accustomed to it that way is, all things considered, probably the quickest route.
One thing the reader must not misunderstand is that adjectives are, in the end, adjectives — they do not express absolute values with sharply defined boundaries. Lose sight of this, and suddenly the terminology becomes one long parade of misreadings, and proper comprehension becomes nearly impossible. To begin with, the way any individual understands a sensory adjective varies considerably depending on their personality and background, and there is always a range of degrees in what is being perceived. When the terminology in question — as in audio — has undergone its own peculiar evolution, further compounded by expressions unique to the industry and others unique to individual critics, it is hard to deny that ordinary everyday Japanese vocabulary will often fall short, and misunderstandings will tend to creep in.
In such cases, what is always required is the ability to step back and take an objective view — to accept as a given that one’s own definition of an adjective and the other party’s (the critic’s or writer’s) definition will differ to some extent, and that the meanings may not align. And while one’s understanding of the terminology conventionally shared within the world of audio writing remains incomplete, what is also needed here is an unconscious flexibility — a reflex habit of suspecting that the misreading may be on one’s own side, that one may be misleading oneself.
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This is not a problem limited to audio terminology, but when one breaks an adjective down word by word and becomes fixated on its dictionary etymology or its original narrow meaning, any divergence in interpretation between reader and writer makes it difficult to share what is actually being said at the core. If, on reading something, the words feel unclear or seem somehow off, the question to ask is: how has this term been shared and used within audio up to now? Not whether your own linguistic definition of it is correct, but rather — how has the term been used by the other party: the critic or the audio enthusiast? Words are ultimately nothing more than tools for communication, so if an excessive attachment to correct usage leaves one unable to read what another person is actually trying to say, that really is defeating the entire purpose.
Adjectives are, by their very nature, things whose inner definitions and understandings differ to some degree from person to person — so whether it is an audio explanation or an account of everyday events, it is impossible to prevent 100% of readers and listeners from “misunderstanding”. This may perhaps be the difference between the logic of the sciences, which takes absolute values as its basis, and a more humanities-oriented, musical way of thinking, which places weight on subjective sensory expression and does not necessarily require absolute values to exist. Most audio terminology does no more than loosely indicate, through subjective impressionism, something that cannot be quantified and whose outlines are inherently blurred — the expressive quality, the character, the tendency of a “sound”.
It is therefore, if anything, more important here not to treat the descriptive expressions of audio terminology as though they possessed some unshakeable absolute value. An adjective is, in the end, only a linguistic substitute for a vague impression — a sensory image — and merely gestures in a certain direction; in practice there is always a relative degree of variation depending on conditions, and no single, consistent, unfailing yardstick exists that holds true across all audio equipment, all listening environments, and all listeners.
When this kind of descriptive language is used, a single word alone cannot always convey everything, and relying on a single word risks being hard to picture — or even, given individual differences, positively likely to generate greater misunderstanding than before. This is why audio criticism tends to line up several similar expressions and phrases alongside one another, giving the reader a broad, approximate focus on the overall sonic character, while using the combination of words to allow them to pick up on subtler differences of direction and nuance — that is the labour the writer is engaged in.
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Rather than treating each individual keyword as narrowly defining something separate, the reader would do better to read from the overall flow of keywords in context, taking in the direction and characteristics of the sound as a whole in relative terms. That, I think, is the skilful way to read the subjective expressions found in audio criticism.
There are, it is true, people who find this kind of descriptive expression — with its fuzzy absolute values — simply disagreeable in itself. When something is written prose, there is a reading comprehension demanded of you: the ability to pick up on the nuance-rich, fluid quality of expression particular to Japanese. And of course there will be personal preferences when it comes to individual words. Conversely, someone with particularly sharp linguistic perception, a strong attachment to verbal precision, and a sensitivity to definitions in metaphor and adjective, will quite often feel an instinctive unease at the looseness of audio writing — at the casualness with which unclear terms are pressed into service, at the imprecision of the vocabulary.
Whether the problems surrounding descriptive language for sound lie with the writer’s shortcomings or the reader’s misreading, when the mutual misunderstanding or mismatch of comprehension is great, actually encountering the product in person may leave one feeling cheated — even, on occasion, betrayed. Particularly in the early days of getting used to reading audio criticism in magazines and the like, I myself had all manner of thoughts about it, as I mentioned at the outset. That said, when I was still a newcomer to audio myself, I was if anything far more frequently burnt by taking quantitative catalogue specifications entirely at face value.
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Beyond that, in the professional media, which depends on advertisers, an audio critic is not really in a position to come straight out and dismiss something they dislike. And even when a particular listening session leaves an unfavourable impression, there is a reluctance to simply cut off the possibility that different conditions might yield a different result — which means a delicate kind of expression is called for, one in which adult pragmatism and extensive experience are mixed together in an awkward balance.
And even among amateur reviewers like us, there is an unspoken understanding — within Japanese culture, which prizes harmony — that one should avoid straightforwardly disparaging anything, out of fear of being set upon online. So within audio terminology too, a whole range of double and triple-layered expressions has been developed — rather like the Kyoto dialect — in which something appears on the surface to be praise but is actually not, or looks positive while being subtly dismissive, or in which certain combinations shift the meaning in all sorts of ways. It makes things still harder to decipher, and yet viewed from a different angle, one could perhaps see this as a form of consideration — a way of respecting those who hold differing opinions about what is good and what is not.
Most experienced audiophiles do eventually become able to read those layers of nuance — to pick up the implied meaning from the choice of vocabulary and the tone of the writing — but naturally, until one is accustomed to it, the intention lurking beneath the surface of the text goes unread, and one’s attention goes only to the flattering words on top, leading one to pick out only the lines that suit oneself and be taken in completely. But then again, perhaps that too is simply one of the rites of passage on the path to sharpening one’s skills as an audiophile.
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Language is, by its very nature, fluid — it changes with the times. And there is no one, professional or amateur, who can wield it perfectly; on the receiving end, all the more so. Even so, the reason so many people — whether professional critics or amateur reviewers online — go on putting information out there, trying to convey something to others through words without fear of being misunderstood, is surely that there is a desire to share with someone else the wonder of music, the fascination of Hi-Fi, the sheer quality of a product one has come to own.
When reading the kind of abstract “sonic impressions” — beyond specs and technical arguments — that appear in audio magazines and on audio-related sites including this blog, I would be most grateful if you could approach them without getting too much into your head about it, without worrying too much about the precise definition of each individual word, and instead just relax and try to get a feel for the overall picture — picking up the atmosphere intuitively. And then, of course: do not judge the value of equipment on other people’s words and opinions alone. Draw your own conclusions — with your own ears and your own sensibility. Keep that attitude firmly in mind, and I believe that, naturally, each person will find themselves encountering the products that truly suit them, and be led towards a happier life with both Hi-Fi and music.
【Cleopatra’s Daydream × Pastel Piano: A Hi-Fi Discussion】
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