One man's dream...

[Rocker]

An interesting read:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/style/in ... ?itid=mr_1

[Fran]

[Ivor]

I'll have a good look at that later... drool worthy. 🤤

[james]

He's mentioned on the last page (p. 194) of the Apr edition of stereophile.

Here is another article about him (Washington post)

https://www.washingtonpost.com/style/ ... cost/

He seems to have neglected his family

[james]

Sorry about last post

I could access the article but now it seems to be behind a paywall.

A summary is that he treated his family as slaves to build his room.

If you look up his name on Google there are lots of articles

[Brutus1968]

I watched the documentary on youtube some weeks ago, and while I was fascinated by all the impressive staff he built, I also felt some sadness for the man: his ambition drove him in a territory where none of his relatives wanted to be, and he decided to go alone rather than accept a compromise. I guess he died with many regrets.

Best

[james]

Ken Fritz was years into his quest to build the world’s greatest stereo when he realized it would take more than just gear.

It would take more than the Krell amplifiers and the Ampex reel-to-reel. More than the trio of 10-foot speakers he envisioned crafting by hand.

And it would take more than what would come to be the crown jewel of his entire system: the $50,000 custom record player, his “Frankentable,” nestled in a 1,500-pound base designed to thwart any needle-jarring vibrations and equipped with three different tone arms, each calibrated to coax a different sound from the same slab of vinyl.

“If I play jazz, maybe that cartridge might bloom a little more than the other two,” Fritz explained to me. “On classical, maybe this one.”

No, building the world’s greatest stereo would mean transforming the very space that surrounded it — and the lives of the people who dwelt there.

The faded photos tell the story of how the Fritz family helped him turn the living room of their modest split-level ranch on Hybla Road in Richmond’s North Chesterfield neighborhood into something of a concert hall — an environment precisely engineered for the one-of-a-kind acoustic majesty he craved. In one snapshot, his three daughters hold up new siding for their expanding home. In another, his two boys pose next to the massive speaker shells. There’s the man of the house himself, a compact guy with slicked-back hair and a thin goatee, on the floor making adjustments to the system. He later estimated he spent $1 million on his mission, a number that did not begin to reflect the wear and tear on the household, the hidden costs of his children’s unpaid labor.