BUSYNESS
Or, How to Test Without Going Crazy

WHILE THINKING ABOUT what to share with you in connection with the 22nd anniversary of HIGH FIDELITY, which falls on May 1, I thought about the reasons why our magazine was founded - testing. And when I thought about it, it dawned on me that my approach has changed since then, and significantly so. I don’t so much TEST anymore as I stay busy. I’m quite happy with that… The text below is precisely about that.

RECENTLY, MY DAUGHTER asked me which single book I would recommend she read if I had to choose just one. The idea was that she had agreed with her friends that everyone in their “pack” would recommend their own picks to the others, and they would also compile recommendations from friends and family. The resulting list - different for everyone - was supposed to be the basis for their summer reading.

Without giving it much thought, I reached for the shelf to the right of the audio system. Somewhere between Music and Audio: A User Guide to Better Sound by Mark Waldrep, head of AIX Records, and Compact Disc by Robert Barry, a title from Bloomsbury’s “Object Lessons” series, stood three small books by Jolanta Brach-Czaina, and among them Szczeliny istnienia. Why there? Probably because of the format, identical to the British Bloomsbury record monographs. Why Szczeliny…? To explain this, a slightly longer story will be needed.

When I began to grasp a little of the complexity of culture, I was captivated by its exclamations. That is to say, works that were above average, outstanding, even monumental. Or, how best to put it, colossal. The climate at the time was certainly conducive to this. Postmodernism was all the rage in Polish studies, and Michał Paweł Markowski - then still working on his habilitation, teaching a poetry seminar for my class, and today a professor at Jagiellonian University - shone with his translations and interpretations of Jacques Derrida’s thought.

This French philosopher permanently introduced into critical discourse such concepts as “deconstruction” and “deconstructionism,” describing a philosophical approach and a set of concepts relating to the multiplicity of possible interpretations and readings of language and cultural artifacts. He drew attention to what the text and language themselves emphasize as significant, but also to what they omit. Everyone was passionate about Derrida; it seems no one really read him, and even fewer understood him. Except, it seems, for Markowski (the Lubimy czytać website states: “There is probably no better ‘Derrida expert’ in Poland than Markowski”).

The point is that it was a monumental work and, in a way - as we interpreted it at the time - a total one. It did a complete 180 on the perspective from which literature was approached and, in a way, anticipated the emergence of post-truth and the modern internet, with its DNA-coded drive to relativize everything in order to monetize every single point of view. It seemed to be the answer to all questions, albeit in a perverse way, saying: “There is no single answer; perhaps there is none at all. It all depends on interpretation.”

‖ JOLANTA BRACH-CZAINA, Szczeliny istnienia („Cracks in Existence”)

Soon after, it was time for the next giants of postmodern and post-modern criticism, whom we read in class with Ryszard Nycz as part of the preliminary work for the anthology of translations of texts from the 1980s and 1990s that he was preparing, featuring names such as Jürgen Habermas (Modernism: An Unfinished Project), Jean-François Lyotard (The Postmodern Condition), Richard Rorty (Postmodern Bourgeois Liberalism), or Jean Baudrillard (The Precession of Simulacra), to name just the most obvious examples.

What excitement and discussions accompanied it! I think we didn’t quite grasp it all; on Polish soil, all of this was still a novelty. Perhaps that’s why we were so carefree in forming our judgments. However, the power of these ideas, their mind-bending structure and far-reaching conclusions, and above all the incredible impact they had on culture - both popular (The Matrix by the Wachowskis is entirely a transposition of Baudrillard’s ideas on simulacra) and so-called “high” culture - left a strong impression on me, something like a “stamp of approval.”

So it’s no wonder that whenever my family and I traveled to new places, I wanted to see what was there the biggest, the most magnificent. On our trip to Prague, the Charles Bridge and Hradčany were the highlights; in Copenhagen, the Øresund Bridge and Tivoli Gardens were more important to me than the Thorvaldsen Museum, and in Milan, I was obsessed with the idea of immediately visiting the Tre Torri (Three Towers) in the CityLife district and seeing the massive skyscrapers standing side by side, designed by Arata Isozaki, Zaha Hadid, and - at the time, still under construction - Daniel Libeskind. And that’s because I was obsessed at the time with iconic works, mega-architecture, celebrity architects, “star” architecture.

That changed over time. I could say that “I’ve outgrown it,” but the point isn’t to deny or downplay anything. I simply came to accept that these are magnificent achievements, ones that must be seen, but they are merely a kind of dazzle, an exclamation - since the term has been used - and don’t say much about reality. And they are, ultimately, tedious in their predictability. Fortunately, over time I learned something that - as mentioned at the beginning - Brach-Czaina called “busyness.” The essay devoted to it begins this way:

This business is, perhaps (postmodernism is still alive), the most important thing. Perhaps it is what allows me to experiment and still enjoy it. We wake up, get out of bed, wash up, eat breakfast, go to work - over and over again, says the philosopher. We peel potatoes - as we’ll read in a moment - each on our own, but none of these actions has any existential meaning in and of itself. It only gains meaning in conjunction with others, precisely as the most important thing that occupies almost our entire lives. Encounters with the “extraordinary” are merely a blink of an eye.

‖ “The smallest building in Warsaw,” as it is advertised - a building at the intersection of Długa and Freta Streets in Warsaw, with an area of just 12 m2, recently renovated, housing the Gallery of Sacred Art, which features a single artwork • photo courtesy of the Mazovian Provincial Conservator of Monuments

As Ludwig Wittgenstein, an Austrian philosopher primarily concerned with language and logic, an outstanding mathematician, and a would-be engineer, notes in his writings during his military service aboard the Goplana, moored near Wawel: “I work best these days while peeling potatoes.” “I volunteer for this task. It is to me what grinding lenses was to Spinoza.” (from: Anna Arno, To You I Direct My Silence). It was then that the seeds of The Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus were sown.

But for me, that was still the future. However, after years spent with “soaring forms” - to refer once more to the “towers” in Milan, they began to wear on me a bit. With their, I repeat, predictability and empty “core.” That is, with what they stirred in me, and what they did not. “Boredom” - that’s putting it too strongly; these are still wonderful encounters. Over time, however, they became less and less “compelling” to me. I drifted on my own toward the direction that the author of Szczeliny… had legitimized in academia, and consequently in pop culture as well.

Coming across a complete account of this philosophy of life - first in the aforementioned collection, and later in The Veils of the Mind - was like coming home in the evening when I’m tired and just want to collapse into bed and sleep. And yet I had heard something about Brach-Czain before, read something - but never closely enough to realize that she was also writing about me and my work: my approach to testing had followed exactly the same path.

First encounters with music playback devices are an unforgettable experience. They imprint themselves on us incredibly strongly, like everything associated with intense emotions. The subsequent stages of learning to appreciate good sound - because this is something you have to learn - also burn “markers” into our minds. I experienced all of this in two ways: first as an audiophile (the listener), and second as a reviewer (the creator). And for a long time - no surprise here - I was most excited by audio icons: rare, expensive, extraordinary, one-of-a-kind items. Simply put - awesome.

The more I knew, the better I understood it all, the easier it was for me to write about audio, and the more pleasure I derived from it. I no longer had to strain myself; there was no need for “high C.” Although hyperbole is an integral part of criticism, or - more generally - reviewing, I tried, and still try, not to go to extremes, into hysteria (“the best in the world,” “swept everything off the board,” “puts others in shame”). That, along with vindictiveness and greed, is reserved for the online blogosphere. I wanted to spare you that because, in the long run, it is an extremely tedious and ultimately off-putting approach.

To be able to listen to new products freely, regardless of their price, I also had to learn to evaluate them based on how they affected me. Testing methodology is sacred; without it, you can’t get anywhere. These are tests based on observation - the fundamental way of experiencing things - but even they have their own logic and rhythm. Each reviewer develops and refines them in their own way, and as a result, they yield slightly different outcomes for everyone - just like in life. Providing measurable parameters - and this is what comes to mind at such a moment - is nice and pleasant, but it says nothing about the product itself; but rather, the directions the designer wanted it to move in.

Incidentally, this reminds me of something that recurred with the regularity of a pulsar’s rotation throughout my college years and the subsequent years of my own education: the knowledge that the humanities are the “broader” disciplines and that the technical sciences are extremely limited. The problem, of course, is the necessity of understanding how the brain, language, and imagination work - things often absent from technical studies and sometimes even actively suppressed. And without that, nothing can be explained. A conversation with a die-hard technician, closed off to “new” ideas, is therefore often - as is the case for me and many other humanities scholars - fruitless.

‖ It’s not that I’m not into high-end audio - absolutely not! I just take it in stride. And yet… On Saturday, shortly before the review was published, during my Saturday stroll, I visited Kraków’s “Tre Torri”: St. Mary’s Basilica Tower, the Town Hall Tower, and the newest spot of its kind: the SkyBar at the Unity Centre. Because big is beautiful, too.

I do not mean to disparage engineering - it is an incredibly important part of research and life. The problem lies in the conviction held by those who practice it regarding its omniscience and primacy. Maliciously, but so be it - I am only human - I will quote Wittgenstein’s words regarding his future. In her latest micro-biography of the philosopher, Anna Arno notes: “(The philosopher) expected that the professor (Bernard Russell, his mentor - ed.) would decide his future path: Wittgenstein asked him to judge whether he was an idiot and should devote himself to engineering, or whether he was, after all, worth something and should pursue philosophy.” Cool, right?

Getting back to the things I’m writing about: busyness is what saves me from the madness of repetition. Every day, analytical listening to music and equipment reviews, for several hours, for so many years, is a sure path to burnout. And to a shallowing of observation. To avoid this, I developed both the aforementioned methodology and decided to approach it in small steps. No outbursts or fainting spells. Minor adjustments, trials, observing the sound calmly and without tension. Not that I’m indifferent - quite the opposite, I do it with full commitment. But not for a brief moment and in a frenzy, but calmly, over a longer period of time.

Intuition plays a major role here. It is something the technosphere fails to understand - and thus ridicules - yet it is fundamental to virtually everyone who has something to offer, including most inventors. Intuition directed both toward the object of interest - a cable, an amplifier, or whatever I’ve just unpacked and am working on - and toward the reader. Because, ultimately, all of this is meant to be distilled into text. Text that will give the reader a picture of the product being tested.

I reach for a book that I just received today for my name day, a collection of essays by Krystyna Czerni titled The Silence and Clamor of Images. In the preface, she discusses her method for describing painting:

One can approach these tests very technically and report on individual characteristics by referring to some scale, whether adopted by oneself or borrowed from other fields of criticism. It is always a comparison; there is no such thing as an “objective point of reference,” even when we’re talking about measurements (and I’m not referring, once again, to postmodernism).

‖ The right frame of reference brings a remarkable sense of inner peace.

With a little goodwill and a great deal of experience, it is possible to distill the insights from these listening sessions into a consensus that is understandable to everyone and well-positioned. That is, it is possible to develop a method that will yield repeatable results, and these will be understandable and useful to readers who are familiar with the “language” used in the specialized press. To put it even more simply: so that they know whether this is a product for them, and if so, what to expect from it.

For this to succeed, to keep it from getting boring, and to keep from going crazy - to refer back to the title, a good ear is necessary - for what is important. Jon Fosse, the 2023 Norwegian Nobel laureate, speaks about his approach to reality in an interview with “Tygodnik Powszechny”:

When testing, I look for patterns based on comparisons. That is why a reference system is so important, because it gives shape to the tests. In the sense that all comments, terms, and descriptions make sense precisely in relation to how the reference system - the MASTER SYSTEM - sounds. I try, as often as possible, to write about my choices and the sound, because this is exceptionally important and allows readers to figure out which direction they need to head in themselves. The reference system gives me inner peace and confidence; it anchors me in the “here and now.” That is why it changes so rarely.

A beginner audiophile - and every “advanced” audiophile was once a beginner - tends to overestimate the pros and cons of audio products. It’s like a sine wave with a large amplitude and a steep rise. Online charlatans exploit this, amplifying these emotions and converting them - along with big tech algorithms - into attention and money. Yet in most cases, it is only the combination of pros and cons that yields a concrete result, and it is this result that matters, not its individual components.

What good is it if the speakers reproduce high frequencies with superb clarity but lack a rich midrange? What does it matter that the bass isn’t entirely controlled when the sound is incredibly “gutsy” and tangible - simply put, credible? To be able to test over a long period of time, it is therefore necessary to develop the ability to take a broad view and make an overall assessment. This is a process done without haste, calmly.

The “listening” Fose spoke of also has a second dimension in the reviewer’s work - one looking out to the reader. Which brings us to a point where I must confess something to you: I’m not particularly interested in what others say. For what I do to have meaning and consistency over the long term I must have my own opinion and stick to it. I seek out all possible sources of information, though more in the realm of description than interpretation. But - every single one I can find. And once I know them, I try to describe the product from as many angles as possible.

‖ You know this and similar photos by heart - the “master” system I use; it gives me a sense of ease and peace of mind.

That is why I write long pieces. That is why I draw on many sources. That is why I do not simplify my message. I strive to make it as rich and substantial as possible. For the vast majority of the time, simplification is nothing more than reductionism - presenting appearances designed to give the impression of concreteness. Perhaps that is precisely why I hear - and I have heard this since day “zero” and my first text was published in “High Fidelity” - that I write “poetry,” that I write “difficultly,” that I write “long-winded” pieces. I understand these feelings, I really do. However, they are, it seems to me, misguided. They say more about the people who express them than about my writing.

Nevertheless, I write long texts. A healthy approach to the subject requires honesty from me - toward myself and toward my readers. It compels me to treat them seriously, not like fools. Even if they don’t understand something now, I assume they will understand it someday and return to the text exclaiming, “Aha! That’s what it was all about!” Simplifying the message is, in my view, idiotic and harmful. This is how the infosphere on the internet works, where more than half are bots, and the other half is controlled by algorithms. And these algorithms aim, on the one hand, to stir up emotions, and on the other, to provide a substitute for knowledge. Which ultimately leads to the trivialization of everything.

It’s like the difference between information and communication. Dominique Wolto, in her book titled Information and Communication, emphasizes that only the latter is qualitative and concerns relationships. The author of the article Success in the Age of Vanishing Dreams explains it this way:

In other words - communication with the reader, rather than imposing my vision on them; a conversation, not a monologue. How does this relate to what I said earlier? The fact that I don’t really care what others say, that I have my own opinion, doesn’t stop me from listening and, slowly, bit by bit, in small doses, but still consistently, incorporating readers’ comments and observations into what I do. Not immediately, not entirely, but still. Always while listening intently to what my intuition tells me. And it says - returning to the language of tests - that poetry is the broadest channel of communication.

It requires knowledge, sensitivity, and the right attitude, and above all, an understanding of its language. But it is this - or this particular way of speaking - that enables the most precise description of sound. Comparisons, metaphors, figures of speech - all of this is important to me. To avoid repeating four simple messages over and over - which is what the implementation of “anti-poetry” principles in audio would boil down to - the texts must differ from one another. Even though they speak of (almost) the same thing. For me, it would be unbearable if I couldn’t use them.

‖ The character who eventually won me over is Moominmamma; unlike the narcissistic Snufkin, the naive and self-centered Moomin, or the absent-minded Moominpappa, she is a pillar of strength for everyone, thanks to her constant business

Besides, I won’t pretend that I don’t know something I do know or that I’m unaware of something I am aware of. I have a solid education, sensitivity, and knowledge. Basic honesty toward my readers requires that I draw upon them. Pretending to you all to be a “simple soul,” “one of the guys,” “maybe simple, but cool” might translate into a wider reach, but it would be offensive, and for me personally, extremely exhausting. Referring to big names, phenomena, and viewpoints is meant to foster a better understanding of what I’m writing about - it’s not an exercise in erudition. I don’t do that.

So, to sum up what I’ve written, each test is for me an encounter with the unknown. Each time equally exciting, each time different, and yet so similar to itself. I approach it methodically, calmly, without looking back at anyone. And at the same time, I keep my eyes and ears wide open to what people have to say. I am guided by knowledge and intuition, and I am constantly learning. I use quotes so that everyone can check for themselves whether I am “speaking the truth.” I do not pretend to be someone I am not. I respect my readers and myself. I keep busy.

THAT'S HOW IT IS with my testing. We’ve been doing this for so many years simply because we feel the warmth of people on the other side of the screen who support us in our efforts. Thank you all so much for the last twenty-two years; we hope for many more. We hope that audio is still as exciting and surprising for you as it is for us, and that it brings you just as much joy. THANK YOU. ‖ WP

WOJCIECH PACUŁA
Chief editor