April 09, 2023 / By mobanmarket
Photo: Sasha Matson
In April 14, 1895, Mahler’s Symphony No.2, “Resurrection,” premiered in Berlin (footnote 1). Mahler wrote a program for this symphony prior to a performance six years later, in Dresden. Here is what he wrote about the first movement, Allegro maestoso:
“We are standing near the grave of a well-loved man. His whole life, his struggles, his sufferings and his accomplishments on earth pass before us. And now, in this solemn and deeply stirring moment, when the confusion and distractions of everyday life are lifted like a hood from our eyes, a voice of awe-inspiring solemnity chills our heart, a voice that, blinded by the mirage of everyday life, we usually ignore: ‘What next?’ it says. ‘What is life and what is death? Will we live on eternally? Is it all an empty dream or do our life and death have meaning?'”
If you follow hi-fi online, you already know that in the early morning on that same date, 125 years after that Mahler premier, Art Dudley, Stereophile‘s beloved columnist and deputy editor, passed away after a short battle with cancer.
I only got to know Art well over a period of about 18 months, starting in late 2018, when he approached me at a Stereophile holiday lunch to ask if I’d be interested “in having a larger role at the magazine.” Nobody outside the magazine knew it yet, but John Atkinson was planning to retire as editor-in-chief. Art, the heir-apparent, didn’t want the gig, so they hired me instead. That was my good fortune in many ways, but the most fortunate turned out to be getting to work closely with Art Dudley.
Art entered magazine publishing at Backpacker in the late ’70s. In 1994, after learning he’d been laid off from a job teaching middle school, he turned down an offer to join the Stereophile team, from editor John Atkinson, and started Listener, an opinionated journal of music and audio.
Listener‘s coverage reflected Art’s particular and evolving tastes and values: single-ended triodes, affordable integrated amplifiers, turntables, tweaks, music. “Throughout it all shone Art’s sense of humor,” John Atkinson wrote in a remembrance published online in April, “whether it was offering a photo of a bunny to offended readers or printing a single letter on each issue’s spine so that when you placed Listeners in chronological order on your bookshelf, the message WILMER SAYS ‘NO’ TO POT SMOKING appeared. Wilmer was Art and [wife] Janet’s pet cat.”
In 1999, Art sold Listener to Belvoir Publications, staying on as editor. “As often happens, the new owners didn’t realize that what they had purchased was not a physical magazine but Art and Art’s points of view,” JA continued. “Friction between editor and publisher was inevitable, and in July 2002, Art emailed me to let me know that Belvoir was going to knock Listener on the head and asked if my 8-year-old offer still stood.” It did.
Art’s first column—Listening #1—appeared in the January 2003 issue of Stereophile. His first words: “Even poor people fly.” That column also included this sentence: “Music is easy to miss for the listener who thinks his job is to concentrate on the sound.” That sensibility—which is arguably even more essential for Stereophile‘s writers than for its readers—would inform every one of the many words Art wrote for this magazine. His final column—Listening #210—appeared in Stereophile‘s June issue.
For about 18 months, Art and I worked side by side to produce this magazine. He was an ideal partner: smart, talented, hardworking, meticulous. As an editor, he was intense, serious, uncompromising—he respected words too much to let bad ones through. But he was always sensitive and kind, earning loyalty from those whose work he edited harshly.
Art edited almost every word of every column and review published in Stereophile over that period, except his own writing, which I edited—a near-trivial task because his writing was immaculate.
Art may be a hi-fi legend, but in the context of our relationship, he was ever the diligent employee. He always let me know when he would be away from his desk. In March, he told me, he would be away from his desk for some medical tests. In little more than a month, he was gone.
Art leaves behind a considerable legacy. There’s his writing in Listener and Stereophile—and in Fretboard Journal, where he wrote about guitars and guitarists. The many tributes posted on-line include several recurrent themes: that Art wasn’t just a great audio writer but a great writer, period. That Art was the best writer about audio not just now, but ever. That Art was decent and kind. That at audio shows, Art would always stop and talk to starstruck audiophiles, no matter how busy he was. That Art had integrity far beyond that of the typical audio journalist. All true.
Because of these qualities, and because of his uncommon talent and skill, Art affected many people. He made many lives better.
This, our July issue, is the first issue since January 2003 that contains no original words by Art. His column, Listening, will of course be retired. Revinylization, the one-page column on vinyl reissues, which Art inaugurated in our January 2020 issue, will continue, written by me and perhaps also others.
Mahler’s program for Symphony No.2—here in its fifth and final movement, the Aufersteh’n—ends like this:
“Lo and behold: There is no judgment, no sinners, no just men, no great and no small; there is no punishment and no reward. A feeling of overwhelming love fills us with blissful knowledge and illuminates our existence.”
Rest in peace, Art. We miss you.—Jim Austin
Footnote 1: Only the first three movements were performed.
Click Here: cheap adidas men shoes
Categories: