Introduction
The sound of analog is a controversial topic—and the controversy is mainly technical. Digital audio is superior to analog in measurable aspects. For many, this is reason enough to dismiss analog entirely. However, if you have the opportunity to listen to both analog and digital on a reasonably well-set-up hi-fi system, the reality of their sonic differences might surprise you.
Throughout audio history, there have been many analog formats. Here, I’ll focus on two: vinyl records and reel-to-reel tapes. These are the most revered analog formats in high-end audio today—and for good reason.
The Recording: Microphone
The first link in the audio chain is the recording itself—and at the heart of any recording is the microphone and the technique used to place it.
Let’s begin with a seemingly simple scenario: recording a solo piano. Imagine placing a concert grand in a proper hall. Now, where should we place the microphone—or microphones?
A piano is essentially a felt-covered hammer striking strings tuned to specific pitches. These strings are under immense tension and are mounted on a cast iron plate, which is itself integrated into a wooden frame. That frame vibrates in sympathy with the strings, contributing overtones, harmonics, and the natural resonance of the wood. The sound of a piano, then, is a harmonic fusion of string and wood.
Even pianos of the same model from the same manufacturer can sound different. This is why many renowned pianists bring their personal instruments to concerts or recording sessions—to preserve their unique tonal identity. Much of that individuality is rooted in the organic nature of wood, which imparts subtle sonic characteristics to every instrument.
If you’ve ever attended a live piano performance, you’ll notice the piano is typically placed sideways, with its lid half-open. The lid acts like an acoustic reflector: sound from the strings strikes the lid and is projected outward in the direction the lid faces. As a listener, you hear the full body of the instrument—strings and wood—blended into a cohesive whole, enhanced by the reverberation of the concert hall. Interestingly, no two halls sound alike; each one colors the music in its own way.
Microphones, however, are fundamentally different from human ears. While our ears channel sound into the auditory system, we also perceive vibrations through our body, adding to the sense of immersion. Our brains process this multi-sensory input in astonishing ways, honed by evolution. In contrast, a microphone is a measuring device. It detects pressure variations across certain frequencies and converts them into an analog electrical signal. Depending on the type, each microphone also has a particular pickup pattern, affecting how it captures sound.
Returning to our recording problem: where do we place the microphones?
At first glance, positioning a microphone in the best seat of the hall might seem ideal. After all, wouldn’t that capture the “best” listening experience? But what works for a human listener doesn’t necessarily work for a microphone. Reflections and hall acoustics that enhance the experience for our ears can blur the details for a mic, masking harmonics and nuance.
Alternatively, placing the microphones very close to the piano captures a more direct sound, rich in detail—but at the cost of losing the natural ambiance, depth, and scale of the hall. A common solution is to use multiple microphones—some close, some distant—and blend their outputs to create a more believable and emotionally resonant recording. However, this approach can introduce phase (timing) issues between microphones, potentially smearing the sound or altering the tonal balance.
In the end, a recording is always a compromise.
And that’s just one piano.
Capturing a single acoustic instrument is already an art filled with complex decisions. Now imagine recording an entire symphony orchestra…
Arguably, the mid-1950s to early 1960s represent the golden era of classical music recording. During this period, the legendary British label Decca produced some of the finest recordings ever made—and a major part of that success was due to their innovative microphone technique known as the Decca Tree.
In simple terms, the Decca Tree involves suspending a trio of microphones in a tree-like configuration from the ceiling, positioned just above the conductor’s head. This arrangement captures a perspective remarkably close to what the conductor hears—balancing direct sound from the orchestra with the natural reverberation of the hall. Even today, it is widely regarded as one of the most effective techniques for recording a full symphony orchestra.
The Recording: Medium
Once the sound is captured by the microphones, it needs to be stored for further processing. The most common analog recording medium is the reel-to-reel tape. This is primarily a professional format—and a deep rabbit hole in itself. In simple terms, the tape used to store recordings is a multi-channel medium that can hold anywhere from 1 to 24 tracks, depending on the setup. The number of tracks required is typically dictated by the number of microphones or sound sources involved.
In a non-live recording environment, multiple takes are common—musicians might make mistakes, or certain passages may need refinement. Editing becomes a critical part of the production process. In this context, editing means selecting the best parts of various takes and combining them to create a near-perfect performance. In the analog, reel-to-reel domain, this process is entirely physical: the tape must be manually cut at precise locations and spliced together with adhesive tape. There is no “undo” button—once a tape is cut, it’s cut. This method demands both skill and precision.
Moreover, tape is an expensive medium. More takes require more tape; more edits mean more time spent with an engineer. As a result, analog recording and editing can be significantly more costly than digital. Interestingly, some believe that the expensive and unforgiving nature of analog recording pushes musicians to perform at a higher level and make fewer mistakes.
They argue that the convenience and flexibility of digital recording can lead to complacency, encouraging excessive takes and edits—which, in turn, result in performances that feel unnatural and inorganic. From this perspective, it’s not just the medium, but the mindset it fosters, that makes analog recordings sound better.
In my opinion, this may indeed play a part in why analog recordings are often perceived as superior—but I don’t believe it tells the whole story.
The Recording: Mixing
Once the editing is complete, the next step is mixing—combining the individual tracks into a cohesive whole using a device called a mixing desk. The mixing desk is an iconic element of recording studios, easily recognizable in photos. It’s the large console with countless faders, knobs, and buttons, typically found at the center of a studio’s control room.
In basic terms, mixing involves adjusting the volume levels of each track relative to one another, equalizing them so they fit together harmoniously across the audio spectrum, and panning them across the stereo field to create spatial depth and placement.
Panning is a particularly interesting and crucial part of the process. It allows the engineer to position instruments and voices along a two-dimensional canvas that stretches from left to right. This spatial placement is directly tied to the realism of the recording and the stereo imaging experienced during playback.
Let’s return to our piano example: how should you pan a solo piano in a stereo recording?
If you place the entire piano in the center, the sound becomes effectively mono—a single point source—during playback. Alternatively, you could pan the right-hand notes to the right channel and the left-hand notes to the left channel. This is a common approach in piano recordings, as it takes advantage of the stereo field and gives the piano spatial width. The instrument now spans across the speakers rather than collapsing to a single point.
However, this introduces another issue: the playback setup—specifically, the distance between the speakers and the listener—can influence the perceived size of the instrument. The piano may sound larger or smaller than life-size. Moreover, this type of panning creates the sensation that you’re listening from above the piano, as if observing the keyboard from the performer’s perspective.
But in a live setting, the piano is usually sideways relative to the audience. You don’t hear the left-hand notes exclusively in your left ear and the right-hand notes in your right ear. The live listening experience is more blended and cohesive. As a result, this panning method, while technically effective, can sometimes sound unnatural or even disorienting.
As I mentioned earlier: a recording is full of compromises.
The Recording: Mastering
The next step in the process is mastering—the final stage where a recording is polished and prepared for release. Mastering is an art form and can easily make or break a recording.
During mastering, the final equalization is applied to achieve a well-balanced overall tonal character. The recording is also processed through multiple pieces of equipment to enhance cohesion and sonic consistency across tracks.
Arguably the most important and famous tool in this stage is the compressor. In simple terms, a compressor reduces the dynamic range of the recording by squashing down the peaks. This helps “glue” the mix together, creating a more cohesive and uniform sound. However, overusing compression can suck the life out of the music—dulling its energy and emotional impact.
Unfortunately, compression has been overused in many recordings, especially during the era of the loudness wars. The less dynamic range a recording has, the louder it can sound to the human ear—at least initially. This became a major trend in pop and rock music, where perceived loudness was often prioritized over musicality.
Even classical recordings weren’t immune. In the 1970s, in an effort to reduce production costs for vinyl pressings, some classical releases were mastered with compressed dynamics—sacrificing the music’s natural ebb and flow in the process.
Once mastering is complete, the final product is recorded onto a two-track reel-to-reel tape—typically more than once, for redundancy. This tape is referred to as the master tape. It represents the closest possible medium to the original artistic and engineering intent—the version that captures exactly what the artists and engineers envisioned.
The Recording: The Wrap-Up
For music listeners, the recording process is something we can’t control or change. However, understanding the details behind the process can deepen our appreciation of the listening experience.
It’s also important to raise awareness about what constitutes a good or bad recording. As consumers, we should collectively demand higher standards from the industry—because better recordings lead to better music experiences for everyone.
The Production: Vinyl
Once the master tapes are ready, it’s time to mass-produce the recording. If the chosen medium is vinyl, there are several additional steps involved before production can begin.
One of the master tapes is sent to a cutting engineer, who uses a lathe to cut a lacquer. This cutting process is an art form in itself. The engineer plays the master tape through a specialized chain of electronics, and at the end of the chain is a cutting head, which physically etches the electrical signal into the lacquer disc.
The lacquer is a relatively soft material, and once the cut is complete, it must be coated with metal to create a stable mold. Due to its softness, lacquer can degrade or distort over time—so this step is a race against the clock to preserve the highest possible sound quality.
After the lacquer is coated, the remaining steps are no longer time-sensitive. While there are intermediate steps involving the creation of the father, mother, and other parts, we’ll skip ahead to the most critical one: the stamper.
The stamper is the actual metal mold used to press grooves into the hot vinyl compound. This is how vinyl records are mass-produced. Typically, multiple stampers are created and used across several pressing machines for large-scale production.
Vinyl compounds themselves have vastly improved over the past few decades. Modern formulations are significantly more resistant to surface noise, and they are also more durable and long-lasting.
One interesting phenomenon: vinyl is a compliant material, meaning the pressure from the stylus during playback can actually flex the groove walls. Believe it or not, this effect is not negligible. Fortunately, modern vinyl compounds are far more resistant to this kind of deformation. There are even specialized compounds that don’t flex at all—but they are significantly more expensive and difficult to produce. As a result, they are used exclusively in ultra-high-end releases, such as the UHQR series from Analogue Productions.
It’s important to note that stampers are consumable. With each pressing, the stamper gradually degrades. A widely accepted rule of thumb is to limit each stamper to around 500 pressings. Beyond this point, audible sound degradation becomes likely. Many audiophile and reputable labels follow this best practice, but not all do. Labels producing music for the mass market often ignore these limitations to cut costs—sometimes pressing thousands of records from a single stamper. This is why not all vinyl records are created equal.
Many vinyl enthusiasts and collectors even inspect the inscriptions etched into the runout groove to determine which pressing plant and which stamper was used—especially with vintage records. These production details can significantly affect the value of a record on the collector’s market.
Generally, record labels did not ship original master tapes to other countries, even though many albums were pressed internationally during the golden era of vinyl. As a result, pressings from the country of origin are often more highly valued and are generally considered to offer the best sound quality.
The Production: Reel-to-Reel Tapes
Reel-to-reel tape has traditionally been a professional format. However, during certain periods, consumer versions of reel-to-reel tapes were also released. These consumer tapes were compromised to reduce costs—they typically played at slower speeds than their professional counterparts. This allowed more recording time per reel, but also meant cramming more information into less tape, resulting in reduced dynamic range and bandwidth. Even so, they could still sound surprisingly good.
The tapes I want to focus on here are master tape copies—copies made directly from the original studio master tapes. The original master tape is considered generation one. A direct copy of that tape is second generation, and a copy of the copy becomes third generation, and so on.
With each generation, some sound quality is lost, but well-made second- and third-generation copies can sound very close to the original.
Over the past decade or so, mostly boutique audiophile labels have begun issuing master tape copies—typically second- or third-generation dubs from the original masters.
Producing these tapes is extremely labor-intensive. Unlike vinyl records or CDs, there is no mass-production method for reel-to-reel copies. The original master tape must be played and dubbed in real-time to create each copy. Some high-end duplication rigs can record multiple copies simultaneously, but even then, it’s often limited to a dozen tapes at most per session.
Most original master tapes used for these dubs are in 1/4-inch, 2-track, 15 IPS (inches per second) format. At 15 IPS, a 60-minute recording requires approximately 1,372 meters (or 1.4 kilometers) of tape.
Blank reel-to-reel tape is produced by only a handful of manufacturers today, and it’s expensive. When you factor in the inefficient production process, the cost of raw tape, and copyright licensing fees, it’s easy to see why reel-to-reel master tape copies are a rare and costly niche within the world of high-end audio.
The Production: Wrap-Up
Although vinyl records can be mass-produced, the process remains labor-intensive, manual, and meticulous. Producing high-quality vinyl requires precision at every stage—from cutting the lacquer to pressing the final record—and this attention to detail makes the process quite costly. These production costs are directly reflected in the price consumers pay.
Reel-to-reel tape is even more demanding. It cannot be mass-produced, and the raw materials—particularly high-quality blank tape—are both expensive and scarce. This makes reel-to-reel one of the most resource-intensive and costly formats in analog audio.
When compared to reel-to-reel, vinyl is a compromise. It was designed as a consumer format, optimized for mass production rather than absolute fidelity. Due to the spiral nature of vinyl grooves, the further the stylus moves toward the center, the fewer inches of groove are available per second of music—resulting in a noticeable drop in sound quality in the inner grooves.
Additionally, both formats require equalization during production and playback. Reel-to-reel tapes typically use IEC or NAB EQ curves, while vinyl relies on the RIAA standard. In both cases, low frequencies are attenuated during recording to conserve physical space, while high frequencies are boosted to preserve detail. During playback, this curve is reversed by the phono stage or tape preamp.
In short, analog formats are challenging to produce—and those challenges are reflected in both the cost and the craftsmanship behind every reel and record.
The Playback: Vinyl
Vinyl playback relies on four major components, all of which are crucially important: the cartridge, the tonearm, the turntable, and the phono stage.
The Cartridge: The cartridge is a precision instrument composed of several parts. At its core, it has a cantilever with a diamond tip. On the opposite end of the cantilever is either a coil of wire (in moving coil, or MC cartridges) or a magnet (in moving magnet, or MM cartridges). As the diamond tip tracks the grooves of the vinyl record, it vibrates, causing the coil or magnet to move. This movement generates a tiny electrical voltage. In essence, the cartridge is a measuring device—it reads the mechanical motion encoded in the groove and converts it into an electrical signal, much like a miniature generator.
The Tonearm: The tonearm holds the cartridge and allows it to track across the record’s surface. According to Newton’s third law, every action has an equal and opposite reaction. As the stylus moves within the groove, reactive forces push back against the cartridge. The tonearm’s job is to counteract those forces and drain them into the turntable’s plinth, ensuring stability.
The most common tonearm design is the pivoted arm, which rotates around a single axis. While this design is practical and widespread, it has inherent geometrical compromises. Mathematically, a pivoted tonearm can only maintain perfect tangency between the stylus and groove at two points across the record surface.
The Turntable: The turntable’s role is to support and rotate the vinyl record at a consistent speed. Most turntables also serve as the mounting platform for the tonearm.
A motor drives a platter upon which the record sits. The three most common drive types are idler drive, belt drive, and direct drive. Regardless of the method, the goal remains the same: speed stability and minimal vibration. Because the cartridge is a vibration-sensitive transducer, any vibration not coming from the groove is considered parasitic and must be minimized.
Moreover, the turntable must also isolate itself from external vibrations, especially those produced by loudspeakers. During playback, speakers radiate a considerable amount of acoustic energy, which can physically vibrate the turntable and affect tracking.
The Phono Stage: The electrical signal generated by the cartridge is extremely low. Modern MC cartridges typically produce only 0.1 to 0.5 millivolts, while standard line-level inputs expect signals in the range of 2 volts (for single-ended connections). Therefore, the phono stage must amplify the cartridge’s output by a factor of up to 10,000 times.
This enormous gain makes phono stages extremely sensitive to noise, requiring careful design and shielding. In addition to amplification, the phono stage must also apply inverse RIAA equalization to restore the signal’s original frequency balance. This EQ stage must be precisely implemented, as errors in this process can significantly affect the tonal accuracy of the playback.
Good vinyl playback requires careful selection of all the key components. That doesn’t necessarily mean expensive—there are many excellent options that don’t cost an arm and a leg.
More importantly, achieving great analog sound depends heavily on proper setup—especially when it comes to cartridge alignment. I cannot stress this enough: with careful setup, even an entry-level cartridge can sound phenomenal. On the other hand, without proper alignment, even a high-end, expensive cartridge can sound subpar.
I’ll cover cartridge setup in detail in a future post.
The Playback: Reel-to-Reel Tapes
Reel-to-reel is a complex and nuanced topic, but as mentioned earlier, I’ll focus specifically on playing back master tape copies.
There are several important features to look for in a tape deck designed for this purpose:
1. Tape Width Tape width refers to the physical width of the tape the machine can play. Master tape copies almost always use 1/4″ tape, with rare exceptions using 1/2″. Most tape decks are limited to a single width, so to play master tape copies, you’ll need a machine that supports 1/4″ tape.
2. Playback Speeds Most master tape copies are recorded at 15 IPS (inches per second). There are also copies at 7.5 IPS and, more rarely, 30 IPS. Almost any deck that supports 15 IPS will also support 7.5 IPS, so compatibility at that level isn’t a concern. However, 30 IPS playback is rare and usually found only on professional studio machines. For those just getting into tape collecting, I generally recommend skipping 30 IPS entirely.
3. Equalization (EQ) Curves As mentioned earlier, reel-to-reel tapes typically use either the NAB or IEC (also known as CCIR) equalization curve—NAB being more common in the U.S., and IEC in Europe. A deck that supports both is a wise investment, ensuring compatibility with the widest range of tapes.
4. Reference Level Support This is a commonly overlooked feature. The two most prevalent recording levels for master tapes are approximately 300 nWb/m and 500 nWb/m. While 300 nWb/m tapes can sound excellent, 500 nWb/m offers greater dynamic range and often sounds even better. A deck that supports both levels will give you broader compatibility and better performance.
Tape decks generally fall into three categories: new production machines, vintage machines, and modernized vintage machines.
New Production Machines There are very few truly new reel-to-reel machines being manufactured today. Designing one from scratch is a bold business move, given how niche the market is. Fortunately, a few companies have taken up the challenge, and some excellent new machines are available. I personally own one of them: the Analog Audio Design TP-1000. It’s a fantastic machine, and I’ll dedicate a future post to it in more detail.
Vintage Machines There are many vintage reel-to-reel decks out there, but choosing the right one isn’t easy. Vintage machines can be broadly categorized into consumer, prosumer, and professional models. I recommend avoiding consumer-grade decks—they rarely meet the requirements outlined above.
That leaves prosumer and professional machines. Some of the greatest tape decks ever made fall into these categories, especially professional studio recorders. However, finding the best models in good condition can be extremely difficult and very expensive. They also require servicing, and skilled technicians are increasingly rare. Repairs can be costly, and wait times may stretch into years. That said, if you have the budget and patience, these machines can deliver unmatched performance.
Modernized Vintage Machines Several companies now refurbish and upgrade vintage machines from the ground up. While not technically “new production,” these decks are often sold as if new, with modern parts and improved reliability. This is a viable and exciting category that’s well worth investigating.
Selecting the right tape deck can be an overwhelming experience—and one that’s prone to costly mistakes. However, when you find the right machine and hear it playing back master tapes, the experience is nothing short of extraordinary. For those who appreciate analog at its finest, it’s an investment that is truly worth it.
Finally – The Sound
So, analog is flawed, tedious, and inconvenient. So why bother?
The answer is simple: the sound.
Analog sound is often described as more organic, musical, emotionally engaging, cohesive, and lifelike. Despite its measurable imperfections, analog resonates in a way that digital often does not.
On paper, digital is superior. But in practice, I’ve yet to encounter a digital system—whether it costs a few thousand dollars or several hundred thousand—that truly sounds right and emotionally satisfying.
The reason, I believe, is rooted in something controversial. But for me, one explanation stands out as the most plausible.
Digital audio is entirely man-made and mathematical. It introduces its own types of flaws—artifacts that are purely mathematical in nature. One well-known example is pre-ringing, an anomaly introduced by certain digital filters. As the name suggests, pre-ringing is a ringing that occurs before the actual sound—like hearing an echo before the sound that created it.
This phenomenon doesn’t exist in the natural world. Yet in digital audio, it can—and does—happen. And it’s not alone. Digital reproduction can introduce various forms of distortion. Some argue these are far below the threshold of human hearing, and therefore irrelevant. But just because we don’t consciously hear them doesn’t mean they don’t affect us.
In fact, scientific studies have shown that ultrasonic frequencies—those beyond the range of human hearing—can still trigger brain activity. That doesn’t mean we “hear” them in the traditional sense, but it suggests our brains register their presence and respond to them.
Another well-known digital issue is jitter. In simple terms, jitter is a timing error. All digital systems rely on clock pulses, which occur many thousands or even millions of times per second. Jitter is the imperfection in the timing of those pulses, which introduces digital distortion.
In the early days of digital audio, jitter wasn’t even recognized as a problem—which left many listeners wondering why digital sounded the way it did: unnatural and “digital.”
If you’re familiar with the sound of acoustic instruments, such as the violin, this becomes especially apparent. While a violin is technically a string instrument, its sound comes from much more than just the strings. The bridge transfers the vibrations of the strings to the top plate, which is made of wood. A bass bar beneath the top plate connects it to the bottom plate, allowing the entire wooden body to resonate. This resonating wood is what gives the violin its distinct tone, rich in overtones and harmonics.
In my experience, I’ve never heard a digital recording where a violin sounds truly balanced. It often comes across as stringy, etched, or even hard to listen to. A live violin never sounds like that. It’s warm, fluid, and full of natural complexity.
On the other hand, a well-made analog recording can reproduce the violin’s character in a way that comes remarkably close to the real thing.
Final Verdict
Analog audio isn’t perfect—but perfection isn’t the point. What it offers is something more elusive: a sense of realism that touches the soul, not just the ears. From the way instruments are captured and preserved, to the craftsmanship involved in both production and playback, analog forms a chain of intention—human, physical, and deeply expressive.
Vinyl and reel-to-reel tapes each have their strengths and limitations. They demand care, attention, and sometimes even forgiveness. But in return, they offer a listening experience that many find more immersive, emotional, and—ironically—more real than digital audio, which, despite its precision, is still prone to flaws of its own: jitter, filtering artifacts, and a reliance on abstract mathematical reconstruction.
This is not a case against digital. It’s a case for analog. For those willing to embrace its quirks and challenges, it can be a deeply rewarding journey—one that brings us closer not only to the music, but to the humanity behind it.