Marantz's 1993 masterpiece proved a CD player could sound like music, not data.

The three-head mastering deck that made Nakamichi nervous and proved Technics could play the obsessive game too.

The Mark Levinson 23.5 is what happens when a company decides cooling fins and Class A bias matter more than quarterly earnings.

Tandberg built the perfect cassette deck right before they stopped caring about cassette decks.

Philips built the CD, then built this — and somehow everyone forgot to notice.

The CD-94 is the machine that proves the 90s Marantz house sound was never just about vinyl.

The Concorde DJ didn't care about audiophile approval — it just needed to not skip during a backspin.

The HD 600 doesn't flatter your records. It tells you exactly what's on them.

The CD-6 is proof that the format was never the problem—the machines just weren't good enough yet.

The Line 3 doesn't flatter your records — it tells you exactly what's on them, and that's the whole point

The DP-90 doesn't make CD sound better. It makes you wonder what you've been missing for thirty years

The CD-63 is proof that the best time to buy a CD player was thirty years after everyone gave up on them

Technics built the SL-1200MK2 for the ages — then took thirty years to give it a worthy mixer

The MK2's quieter sibling grew up and moved indoors — and that turns out to be a very good thing