This sent me quickly to the local hi-fi store (luckily I live in Portland, which is vinyl hipster central) to get a stylus brush. You need to keep the needle ultra-clean or you’ll soon run out of clear sonic roadway; a bit of gunk took things from audiophile dream to distorted nightmare in seconds. As any dealer or enthusiast will tell you, even after you wash your older records, you have to brush them to get rid of static every play, every time.
Still, I was surprised by how many of my old records, some dug up straight from the ’60s and ’70s for just a few bucks, sounded excellent after a clean. Even with a bit of static and pop, once the music swelled, these aging time capsules were transformed from forgotten relics to musical masterpieces.
As an object, the Theory is a delight. The belt is fascinating to watch, the switch gives a satisfying click, and the tonearm is smooth as silk. The one issue is the lack of auto-return, which means you have to monitor each record closely and stop it manually after each side. This can be annoying if you’re out of the room or entertaining. But it didn’t come up much for me, as every record I played seemed to drag me in to let the sweet analog goodness wash over me.
The Theory is obviously a pricey purchase, but considering the build quality and components like the magnesium tonearm and Ortofon cartridge, the cost is justified—especially if you have a solid sound system and record collection to pair it with.
Moreover, if you’re like me and have already invested years of time, money, and effort into amassing a large-ish collection, it only makes sense to invest in a player that will make it all worthwhile. The Theory is certainly that. And it looks damn good doing it.
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