To each his/her own. Our audio temperaments vary. There’s room for everyone. Live and let hoard. I’m a collector—of books, not audio—so I completely understand the impulse, but my books are a “working” library (at least that’s what I tell my wife).
I envy—and don’t—those of you who have the space, money, time, and inclination to have a hoard of audio equipment. For me, I move one piece of kit in at a time; evaluate it relative to the rest of the system and to what it might replace, and ask: greater than?, equal to?, or less than? what I already have and use.
I’m all about the organic synergy of the whole—not the exponentially endless possibilities. I can imagine having a dozen tube amps to rotate or at least to audition at my leisure; and to have at least a couple TTs; but I’m not at all interested in moving heavy amplifiers around and in and out of a system regularly—despite that other amps might be much, much better. (I guess I could have Jeeves move them for me, when he wasn’t mixing martinis.)
Hmmm.
I’m more in the plug-and-play/touch it once camp (not that I don’t like to dream and upgrade). Typically, now that I think of it, I use and enjoy the hoard of gear collected by hoarder extraordinaire, Steve, at Audio Classics. Luckily, his tastes align with mine.
My audio fantasies tend to revolve around having the funds and space for ONE better system (not an audio harem). If I had Leno and Seinfeld money, then, sure, I might have a harem of stereos along with a harem of cars and a harem of houses. But then where do you put it all?
Years ago, Jerry Seinfeld anonymously bought a NYC multi-floored townhouse (under an LLC, I believe) across the street from friends of mine, and renovated/ruined it. As I understand it, he left the residential facade as is, as he surreptitiously gutted/transformed the interior of the townhouse into a multi-level, spiraling parking garage for part of his car collection. The longterm constant noise and construction and trucks and dust and jackhammering and traffic jams and cement mixers alienated everyone on the block—much more so when they discovered who the owner actually was. And even more so when they learned what Jerry was actually doing to this beautiful building. But none of their earlier ire equaled that brought about when Jerry—sorry, neighbors, it’s me, famous billionaire comedian, Jerry (you got me!)—sheepishly went door-to-door, personally handing out gift baskets with fancy wine and fruit and cheese to each neighbor as an “apology.”
Thankfully(???), I don’t have the space, money, time, and inclination…