Benny Audio writes: “Is a turntable still an everyday appliance, or has it become a work of art? You might ask: why bother with this “retro gadget” when we’ve got streaming, smart speakers, and a million sounds in our pocket? On the other hand—don’t we all like owning something that isn’t just another mass-produced piece of junk?
When we talk about entry-level products, sure—they’re like the family station wagon of audio gear. They just have to “drive” and stay on the road. Do they sound mind-blowing? Not really. Are they aesthetically stunning? Nah. But they do their job: the needle hits the groove, and that’s that. They can be pretty, ugly, whatever—it doesn’t matter. They’re basically the “white fridge” in your sonic kitchen.
But at the very top, you’ve got turntables from another league—ones that cost as much as a decent car and look as if they were designed by the devil of industrial design himself. There’s no room for compromise or mass appeal here. It’s all about the owner’s pride, their ego, aesthetic excess, and (most importantly) truly outstanding sound quality. If that works out—great. If not—at least you’ve got an object of desire, a status symbol, and a guaranteed conversation starter among the audio snobs.
It’s like the world of supercars: scarce, hellishly expensive, and so good that you’d feel silly pointing out any flaw. Some people buy them just to let them sit and look pretty! Let others drool—this is the king perched atop the design Olympus. Use it? Why bother? It exists, and that’s enough.
So, appearance—does it matter? Of course it does! A top-tier turntable is like a family signet ring, a luxury car in your garage, a ticket to a parallel world where good taste, luxury, and a sense of elite belonging reign supreme. It’s a kind of cult, a religion for the chosen few—a tribal totem around which we dance the rituals of audiophile initiation.
Is that already a work of art? Definitely yes! I recently came across a short interview with Rick Rubin, which made me realize something: maybe I’m an artist. Seriously. A true artist creates for themselves, not caring if anyone else likes it. Sound arrogant? Maybe. But it’s right. If you’re not creating with total sincerity, without giving a damn about the crowd’s opinion, you’re not making art—you’re making a marketing product. I’m 100% with Rick on that.
I had a funny situation once at a Munich trade show. Two guys were discussing my turntable without knowing I was right there. One said I must have hired some design agency, and bam—done. At first, I got pissed. But then I thought: if someone believes this is the work of a professional studio, maybe that’s actually cool? Let me clarify: I create all my turntables from scratch, every detail from the first sketch to the last screw. I treat design like a dress that I slip onto the device’s bare “body.” It’s not a quick fling, but rather a long, passionate search for that one perfect form. Trends? Who cares! I do it for myself, unleashing my creative energy and showing off my own taste, character, and edge.
So what do my turntables say?
Immersion – pure classic style, inspired by the Lounge Chair. Comfort, curves, natural materials. It might not knock you out like a rocket launcher, but it won’t strain your eyes either, and it lets you focus on the music. It’s like a good wine in a simple glass.
Odyssey – a totally different story. It drips with the ’80s and the vibe of intergalactic war movies. Think a black-hearted villain with breathing issues—my favorite “dark lord” type. Brutalism in form, simple lines, unapologetic aggression. No compromises, no sugarcoating.
Do my turntables please everyone? Hell no—and that’s great! They spark extreme emotions, meaning they’ve got character. Am I happy to hear the “oohs” and “aahs”? Sure! Would I change my design because of criticism? Never in a million years. If you don’t feel the vibe, go find happiness elsewhere.
And that’s the real charm of it—I get to go wild with engineering, materials, software, and then inject it all with my aesthetic sensitivity. I feel like an independent artist who doesn’t give a damn about platitudes and follows his own path. What will my next turntable be? I have no idea—maybe there won’t even be a next one! My art, my call.
Next time, I’ll talk a bit about that so-called user interface, because even the most refined piece of audio art needs to be switched on once in a while. How, you ask? Just wait and see! 🙂