Bridging the Gap Between the Studio and the Listening Room
Over the past 40 years, I’ve worked as an engineer and producer, run a record label, released records, and more recently, I’ve focused on the final stage of the process: how music is played back and experienced. It’s a privileged position—one that allows me to take a balanced view of how music is both created and heard.”
It’s totally counterintuitive that a divide should exist between the professional recording world and the audiophile community—but it does. Why?
On one side, you have the artist striving to convey their work through the recorded medium. On the other, the audiophile working to replicate that work as faithfully as possible at home. It’s a logical relationship—so where’s the problem? Perhaps it’s just mutual misunderstanding.
Let me start by saying: I’m speaking only from my personal experience.
I began my career at Power Plant Studios in 1987, which had previously been Morgan Studios. Some of the most influential British artists of the 1960s and ’70s had recorded there, and I arrived just after Sade finished her first two albums. Owner Robin Millar soon after acquired Maison Rouge—two classic British studios, both designed in the early days of multitrack recording.
Power Plant had soffit-mounted UREI monitors, and Maison Rouge featured horns—possibly Eastlake designs, or at least close copies. But by the mid-to-late ’80s, the monitoring landscape was shifting. Yamaha NS10s had become the standard, especially in the U.S. with top-tier mix engineers like Bob Clearmountain. At Power Plant, AR18s were even more common. These speakers were chosen because mixes done on them translated remarkably well across different playback systems. An entire generation of engineers grew up with them—and continued to use them for decades.
In the last 20 years, active monitors have become the norm. With the decline of many iconic studios has come the end of big soffit-mounted speakers. Today, walk into almost any studio and you’ll see active monitors from ATC, Focal, KRK, or Dynaudio.
The result? A massive number of popular albums from the past 30–40 years were recorded and mixed on monitors that cost a fraction of high-end audiophile loudspeakers.
And as for cables…that’s a whole other discussion.
For some reason, this reality has led to a certain mistrust of HiFi within the professional community—and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s envy. Maybe it’s human nature to compare and contrast.
For example: I have a mains cable that I’m evaluating that cost nearly £5,000. One of my engineering friends pointed out that, for that sum, they could buy a top-of-the-line Neumann U67 valve microphone. To them, it simply doesn’t compute.
But that’s comparing apples and oranges. Audiophiles chase playback perfection; engineers chase recording perfection. Both invest heavily in their pursuits. For the professional, that may mean sourcing rare vintage outboard gear, iconic consoles, or boutique microphones. Hours are spent comparing EQ units, compressors, and mic pres—long before even touching the endless options in today’s DSP plug-ins.
In truth, the sonic differences between some of those tools are far more subtle and profound than what you’d find between most speaker cables.
I started as a musician and only became an engineer by accident. Robin Millar gave me a job as a tape op/runner so I could pay the rent. At first, I just sat at the back of the control room and watched. Back then, you really only spoke when spoken to—but I quickly fell in love with studios, even if I did make around 20,000 cups of tea (I worked it out once).
My training came from observation and intuition. To this day, my technical knowledge is a bit sketchy. Please don’t hand me a circuit diagram. But as drummer Andy Gangadeen once said after I revived his aging Otari multitrack for one final overdub: “Cameron loves machines, and machines love Cameron.”
That instinctive approach still defines my studio work—and it applies to how I build HiFi systems too. I don’t worry about specs. I build systems I love. If they sound right and the music connects emotionally, that’s what matters. Hopefully the listener feels the same.
That’s not to say every system is “right.” Some are very wrong.
A couple of years ago, I went to the Munich High End Show, and one room left a lasting impression—for all the wrong reasons. The system in question cost somewhere around $750K. The speakers had an absurd number of drivers, tweeters, and subs—but the music balance was bizarre.
I don’t recall the exact track, but I know Steve Gadd was playing drums. The hi-hat was coming from one tweeter, the snare top from the centre, the snare rattle from another location, and the ride cymbal was lost entirely. It had, apparently, developed a mind of its own.
I’ve been lucky enough to record Steve Gadd twice—once in London, once at the Power Station in New York—and I can confirm: his kit does not sound like that.
So maybe it’s time to close the gap.
Studio professionals and audiophiles are both chasing the same thing: an emotional, immersive connection with music. We just come at it from different angles. Let’s focus on that shared purpose—and celebrate the different paths we take to get there.
Want to hear what great sound really feels like?
Visit us at Stranger HiFi or book a private demo.