It was a question I hadn't considered until I stepped into the listening room on that gloomy Monday morning to greet my Canadian guests. Then it hit me like a slap shot to the forehead. Could I be the unbiased, emotionally unruffled reviewer that I know I am on this day, or was my bitterness simply too strong to give these visitors their fair shake? For you see, it was less than 24 hours earlier that one of the most important games in North American hockey history—the gold-medal final between the United States and Canada—had ended in utter disappointment for the Stars and Stripes. And now, these Canadian speakers were staring me right in the face—their phase plugs pointing at me in ridicule, their ports directing a sly, triumphant wink my way, and their cabinets standing a little taller and straighter after 50 years of Olympic-hockey frustration. My doubts quickly passed, though, as my foreign guests began expertly filling the room with the soothing sounds of the Mississippi delta and Virginia mountains, bringing an undeniable calm over me—even a hint of resignation. As much as I love hockey, it's their game, after all. If Canada starts beating us in football or baseball, I'll know the sports gods have really turned their backs on the good old U.S. of A.

The Earthquake SuperNova could be the world's most dangerous end table. No amount of Krazy Glue will repair the heartbreak of the unwary soul who dares place the family-heirloom Tiffany lamp or Waterford vase on this compact subwoofer. This is not a New Age sub disguised as a fine piece of furniture, a veneered life-style block

Over thirty years ago, B&W Loudspeakers set out to build a speaker that would set the standard in sound and build quality, a speaker that other companies would strive for years to keep up with. Today, there is little doubt that B&W's goal was achieved. In fact, the designs of yesterday were so successful that 80 percent of all classical recordings are monitored using B&W loudspeakers.

Get a load of those feet. Someone slipped a set of solid-brass isolation cones on Pinnacle's AC Sub 100, a working-class $350 subwoofer dressed humbly in black vinyl. So what's with the magic slippers? Another Cinderella story perhaps? Or is it merely a Mr. Blackwell- caliber fashion faux pas, like matching Prada with Wrangler? Well, the AC Sub 100 isn't a thing of beauty, but you can take it to the ball—or put it in your entry-level home theater—without embarrassment. This 13-inch cube can dance a bit. The AC Sub 100 resides at the low end of Pinnacle's subwoofer line, and its feet are hand-me-downs from the company's more-exotic designs. They're standard equipment on, among others, Pinnacle's $1,200 Digital Sub 600. Is there another manufacturer that fits such fancy footwear on its nickel-and-dime subwoofers?

Something that never fails to irritate me is an intemperately enthusiastic review of an outrageously expensive product. I'm sure this is partly because I hate reading about something that might just be every bit as good as the reviewer says it is when I can't afford to buy it. But I think the greater part of my pique is because I suspect the reviewer was so awestruck by the product's princely price that he couldn't bring himself to find fault with it. Oh, sure, he'll pick a few nits just to show how perceptive he is, but his "report" will essentially be an exercise in idolatry, with nary a question about value for money.

It's not uncommon for a company to come along and make the claim that they've reinvented the wheel in audio or video. In fact, every year at the Consumer Electronics Show, I chuckle when some yahoo representing one of these companies comes up to me and begins to peddle their wares. Sure, there have been several advancements in audio engineering over the last few decades, but let's face it—no one has truly reinvented the wheel.

In the summer of 1996, SGHT editor Lawrence Ullman made me an offer I couldn't refuse: "Wes," he asked, "how would you like to review M&K's new THX speaker package?"