Let's take a walk

Let’s leave the noise of the city and venture out into nature for a bit. Once your eyes settle on the usual vegetation, every once in a while, you come upon something that sticks out. The contrast to the usually expected is so noticeable that it leaves a lasting impression.

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Your first impulse is to feel its noteworthiness, and to make sure you register it to memory. The reason for this is that you are so impressed in the moment, you don’t want your initial impulses to overpower the likely later far outlasting impressions upon pondering, comparing, and relating to past mundane experience.



You don’t want to rob yourself of that opportunity. So you stop, make a note of it, try and retain as much of the initial impressions as possible, so as to later feel the thrill of having enriched yourself with new special memories and insights. If nothing leaves a lasting impression, the world is bland and boring.



Basically what you are doing is turning it over in your head. This is done far after the fact of the initial impression. In fact, only in this way are we even able to consider things. We carry within our memory a huge library of stored experience, all of which builds upon the time-honored scaffolding of past experience. Indeed, this is exactly how we learn languages, how we develop taste, how we consider relationships, and even how we consider our own mutating role in the way we understand the world. Music would be meaningless without it. It is also the reason we encounter the surprisingly unexpected.



Survival instincts meld with apprehension, meld with excitement for the new and unexplored. As an added safety measure, we may look over our shoulder to our friends, family and colleagues, examining their own reactions so as to feel safer in our own curiosity. This goes for any new experience, be it a confrontation with art, social relations, sustenance, or an unexplored path.



People fall on a spectrum between introvert and extrovert, and everywhere in between. The brave pioneers among us lead the way through risk untold such that the prize of return to tell about it benefits us all, should they return yet living. We owe it to such brave pioneers of any field; without them we’d be back at step one, again grunting, snorting, and battling it out among the flies, fleas and tics.



So as we respectfully crouch down if alone, or as we consult with others if in a group, or as we look it up in scientific literature if so inclined, or even if we decide to be the pioneer ourselves and, come hell or high water, take the plunge, still there is no protection from what is to really come: and that is direct experience. This is where there are only private neurons, private memories, and only private contemplation. Whatever buzz is to come, as it turns out, all that other stuff was merely incentive to get us to leap off the ledge and into the scary realm of the yet unknown.



Every time a 5 year old was given his first taste of broccoli, every time a 10 year old began balancing himself solo on his bike, every time a 15 year old spoke in public for the first time, every time a 20 year old got his first credit card, every time a 30 year old became business leader, or indeed every time anyone ever took the meandering and highly interesting path towards unbelievable sonic experience in the comfort of their home, they all went through it most personally. Private steps through private rites are precious. Everyone trips on their own.

Now, I’m not saying every new pill is easy to swallow. There is the concept of tough love. But it is now my experience that the very best medicine is the one which reveals itself as, in the end, no longer needed. This has no bearing at all on whether it is nevertheless highly desired. Some of the most highly desired things in the world are not even remotely needed.

You can trip all you want, but to avoid getting caught up in it, that is the real trip. That’s the real pioneering attitude which allows one to get all the pleasure and none of the side-effect.

Tread carefully, and choose wisely, my friends. I wish you the most wonderful journey with Giant Steps.

What's its character, how does it sound?

Really what we want from an equipment foot is both maximum air and maximum density, all at the same time. Typically, these two come at a disappointing compromise. So many solutions lean on one of those two extremes. Either the sound becomes dense but mucky (because no air), or it becomes airy but thin (because no meat on the bones).

Giant Steps masters them both faithfully and serves them to you in the most exquisite manner. The depth, density, and detailed air of the sound all draw you in like never before. The best way I can put it is hypnotic, mesmerising, and entrancing. When it draws you in, you're completely transported to the time and place of recording. Hi-fi sound is replaced with natural, organic, expressive sonic beauty. Cheapness falls to the wayside, being replaced with a precious, detailed richness which is simply delicious in every aspect. Instead of addressing nagging sonic suspicions, you find that doubts and questions no longer even arise. You're left with pure appreciation, and it feels so good.

It's not like new shoes that you know will eventually wear out. Giant Steps is destined to become a permanent fixture in any sound system. They do not merely visit. They belong.