HOW I CAME TO LOVE BLUETOOTH.
Or, what’s high-end and what’s low-end in audio, and what that means. And also, that nothing is quite what it seems.

⌈ Bluetooth is a short-range wireless technology standard used to exchange data between stationary and mobile devices over short distances. Using UHF radio waves in the 2.4 GHz band, it replaces physical cables and allows accessories such as headphones, keyboards, and speakers to be connected to computers and smartphones. ⌋

THE MATTER WOULD PROBABLY HAVE BEEN FORGOTTEN if it hadn’t been for a series of events that occurred in quick succession. One of them was reading - what else? - and the other was a message. The reading was an article by Tomasz Sulima in Dwutygodnik about the Belarusian language, and the message came via WhatsApp from Tomek Lechowski, a member of the Krakow Sonic Society, whose photos you can regularly see in reports from our meetings; more → HERE.

First, about the article. It turns out that I knew nothing about the Belarusian language. Really nothing. And what I did know turned out to be incomplete, flawed, and, frankly, I might as well have thrown all that “knowledge” of mine in the trash; it was of no use whatsoever. It was perhaps even worse - after all, there’s nothing more dangerous than a layman convinced of his own righteousness. That’s why reading the article was a new experience for me. I was also interested in what Sulima says about bilingualism, both Belarusian-Polish and Belarusian-Russian.

As he writes, it rarely takes the form of the free coexistence of two equal codes; much more often, it corresponds to what sociolinguistics has described under the concept of diglossia - a permanent division of functions between languages, in which one serves official, public, and “serious” spheres, while the other is relegated to the private sphere, emotions, or symbolism. And further:

The diglossia Sulima refers to is a concept that goes beyond the narrow understanding of the national language. We can also observe it in other areas of life, because - as it seems - everything is a kind of “language” (see my adventures with Nori, the rabbits from Uszata Przystań → HERE). This also applies wherever “high” and “low” language are used. This distinction also applies to audio.

I’m sure you’ve noticed this, and if not, you’re playing this game anyway. When writing tests, I use “high” registers. I break them down whenever I can, using “low” registers, because these texts are intended to have a universal appeal. That is, they’re meant to reach beyond a small group of “insiders.” We have our own industry jargon, behaviors, meetings, and “cultural baggage,” which is a high barrier to overcome for those who would like to get involved.

I see that when you write me emails asking for advice, you also try to maintain this “decorum” without resorting to slang. It doesn’t always work out, but I appreciate the effort. The point is that the “formal” register of language is a precise register and, so to speak, quite broad in scope. It allows you to frame a problem in a way that’s clear to more than just two people who spend a lot of time together or devote a lot of time to discussions on social media and discussion forums.

However, there is also the language I referred to as “slang,” which is something like “everyday speech”. I don’t like it - I won’t pretend otherwise - all these “DACs,” “bridges,” and so on wear me out. Sometimes I venture closer to that realm when writing about “online forums,” but I do so cautiously, and I quickly return to the realm where I feel confident. As it happens, this is the language used by most people involved in DIY.

The point is that both are part of the same group of users who switch between them depending on the context in which they find themselves. And one cannot exist without the other. Just like in classic diglossia. In everyday conversation, most audiophiles use idioms specific to a given subgroup, expressions coined for a particular phenomenon, as well as neologisms whose meaning is often understood only by their creators.

Despite my reluctance, I acknowledge that this is a living language, meaning one that constantly adapts to a changing world. In this respect, it describes it better than the language of manufacturers, colorful brochures, and pretty websites. However, since it is chaotic and obscure - to the point that I’ll limit myself to two words beginning with two different letters “h,” about which the author writes so wonderfully in Mowy niewygodnej bliskości - it requires a kind of refinement, that is, organization and the assignment of specific semantic fields to words. This is what the press does (or at least it should).

The tension between “high” and “everyday” language is something I also notice in the context of technology. After all, what difference is there between what you read in audio magazines and what you engage with when posting on a discussion forum? The former uses formal, official language, while the latter reflects how we speak in everyday life. The press offers extensive, in-depth descriptions, whereas forums focus on impressions and emotions and rely on abbreviations.

I’m generalizing because, in the age of the internet, the boundaries between what’s official and what’s private have blurred. I remember - it was quite recently- how one of the big tech companies promoted its solutions by saying that “everyone is a creator.” That’s a lie, a manipulation designed to draw as many users as possible into the content creation process; content plus attention are what they expect from us, and what they make money on. So the more people who believe this slogan, the more money will flow to the billionaires in Silicon Valley. The slogan in question fell on fertile ground.

Which brings us to the “message” I mentioned earlier. I hope Tomek won’t mind if I quote, even just part of, his post. Generally speaking, it was about expressing gratitude and praising my advice regarding a small CD player that would work with active speakers as a supplement to streaming. The question was even more specific, as it narrowed down the options to devices from S.M.S.L and Shanling.

As I wrote those words, I glanced to my right, and both devices bearing those brands’ logos were right there, within arm’s reach. Tomek reads HF carefully, so his final question was, “Which one would be AWESOME?” Without a moment’s hesitation - because I didn’t need to think about it - I replied: simply the Shanling EC Smart. Objectively speaking, the S.M.S.L CD200 is the better device - by quite a bit, actually. However, when I later thought about why my choice was so unequivocal, it dawned on me that I’d prioritized convenience over ultimate sound quality.

Shanling’s CD player is, in fact, a player that features a Bluetooth transmitter, and although it can also be connected via an analog cable, I’ve never listened to music that way with it. For almost exactly a year now, I’ve been using it to listen to CDs, mainly in the afternoon and evening (at night), and I do so using Bluetooth headphones. Decent, even outstanding ones - it’s the Final Audio ZE8000 Jibun Dummy Head, review → HERE - but still, using Bluetooth connection. And it brings me indescribable joy.

The thing is, over the past year I’ve listened to many times more albums than before. My daily testing involves several hours of flipping through CDs and transferring files, but that’s mostly work. I’m often tired after that, and the only thing I feel like doing is searching Tidal for new, old, familiar, and unfamiliar albums to unwind. And I do this through Bluetooth headphones, too. So how is that possible, you might ask - on the one hand, a person writes about high-end audio, and on the other, he derives joy from technology that’s technically inferior, highly suspect in terms of sound quality, and notoriously poorly implemented.

I don’t have any clever answer for that, and I won’t try to defend myself - guilty, guilty as hell! And I say this with a smile on my face because there’s something about it - in contrast to the “high-brow” nature of reviews - that gives me joy from something I don’t have to take it too seriously. And it does bring joy, because it’s truly a great way to experience music. The Shanling player offers only the basic, absolutely lousy SBC audio codec, and yet, with good headphones, it’s incredible.

Knowing what Shanling has to offer, I wasn’t surprised, then, when, after an hour or two, Tomek replied that I’d inspired not only the person who asked the question, but him as well. And also Tomek Folta, the host of the KSS meetings, who also bought this little gem. The thread ended with the words: “Man, I’m so stoked…” As for me, I totally get it, since I’ve been just as stoked for a year now. And then there’s my son, who also listens to music using the exact same player.

We already know “what,” and we know “how,” but “why” is still unclear. To tell the truth, it’s not easy to explain. Or at least that’s how it seemed to me. On the one hand, after all, I - Wojciech Pacuła - a person with an established position and image in your eyes, constantly immersed in the high-end scene and poring over the differences in cable stands, take pleasure in engaging with technology that is flawed, outdated, and - in the context of what I do daily - almost embarrassing.

I can’t explain it any other way than as a need for fun. Yes, fun. Becca Rotfield, author of the book It’s All So Small, writes (admittedly in the context of sex, but it fits me like a glove):

It is no coincidence that both she and I touch on Huizinga, even though his works are, after all, almost antiquated. He is one of the most fascinating cultural scholars, whose influence on contemporary scholarship cannot be overstated.

At the Department of Polish Studies, I graduated; he was known primarily as the author of the extraordinary The Autumn of the Middle Ages (1919), a work resulting from his study of texts by other scholars - a technique that was almost subversive at the time. In the field of sociology, on the other hand, scholars most often refer to Homo Ludens. Both serve as a point of reference, both for those who agree with him and for those who challenge his findings. But - it does. The extraordinary impact of his ideas is evidenced by the once-famous saying: “to make (someone’s) life a living hell.” Perhaps not a very academic example, but how telling, isn’t it?

In any case, what the Dutchman wrote nearly ninety years ago is still considered the correct line of thinking. After all, if we follow this line of reasoning, my decision to use an inexpensive (and I mean very inexpensive) CD player and stream the signal to Bluetooth headphones - while a system worth hundreds of thousands of zlotys stands literally right next to me - seems to be precisely such an “excess.” Perhaps the explanation lies in what Rotfield goes on to write, namely that what is key to the experience is that it constitutes a “superfluous excess”. Perhaps this is one of the reasons for the joy it brings.

However, this wouldn’t be possible without one fundamental factor: it really sounds great, it really performs well. I’ve actually noticed this unexpected strength of Bluetooth in several other instances while testing devices equipped with this connectivity that are strictly audiophile products - for example, when listening to the → DIVALDI GOLD PRE ONE or the → AUDIO RESEARCH CORPORATION I/70 ˻PL˺.

What captivated me during these listening sessions - and what I experience every day when I pop in a Shanling CD and put on my Final Audio headphones - is a pleasant, warm sound with considerable depth, as well as the absence of “tension.” When listening to music this way, I set aside all the baggage of audiophilia, while still benefiting from its work. That is, I don’t have to “worry” about how “it will sound,” because I know it will sound at least very good. And that’s because the products in question are refined, thoroughly tested, and “tuned” in a way that makes the music sound exactly as it should. That’s all there is to it.

The playful nature of these behaviors is so cool precisely because they aren’t directed against anything or anyone. They exist “alongside,” or, at times, “in place of.” Listening to music on a Shanling player is not an act of rebellion, because it’s not about overturning the hierarchy - that’s clear. Admittedly, Huizinga points out that “collective games are, in their essential features, antithetical in nature,” meaning we’re pitting one thing against another. But immediately afterward, he adds that this is not, however, necessary.

This is also how I view the play I engage in when I turn on Bluetooth in the evening. Play, that is - as we’ve said - a kind of pretense. This pretense, however, is not an attempt to overturn the order. It’s not that using Bluetooth demonstrates the pointlessness of audiophilia; it’s exactly the opposite. If play is a “transgression,” it is momentary, conditional, and meaningful only because there is something to transgress.

It would therefore be something completely different from carnival. Seemingly similar to play, it has different goals and methods. The author of the book Wszystko to byt małe (It’s All So Small) writes that carnival is linked to a festival, for one thing, and secondly, that it consists of “reversing the usual order of things.” Play is a deviation, but one that is friendly toward what is being “reversed,” whereas carnival - as she goes on to write - turns the established order upside down, “allowing chaos to reign for a time.” That is not at all what my adventure with Bluetooth is about.

When I sit down with a book, a magazine, or just scrolling through the internet on my phone - when I sit like this with headphones on, a CD spinning behind me - the Shanling stands a little to the right behind me - my goal is not a revolution. I’m not trying to prove anything. Besides, it would be a “sleepy” revolution, so to speak, because it’s long overdue. For the vast majority of smartphone owners, Bluetooth is a transparent technology - something taken for granted. So if I were trying to revolutionize anything, my efforts would be laughable.

For audiophiles, however, it is a foreign body. And rightly so - it is, I’ll repeat, a rather primitive technology. But it’s also a shame - it’s a technology that, under the right conditions, brings a lot of joy. And it is precisely this joy, this fun, this sense of ease that it allows you to experience that I wish for you with all my heart. We don’t have to worry about participating in something “low fi,” while “true” audiophiles devote their time to the “hi fi.” It’s quite the opposite. The subtitle of Huizinga’s work reads: Play as the Source of Culture. So when we listen to music via Bluetooth, we’ll be right at its very heart. ‖ WP

WOJCIECH PACUŁA
Chief editor