| |
NEIL
SINCLAIR
IS A TOOLMAKER ON A MISSION. In a
modern world of home entertainment gone mad for movies, this old-school
audio buff, music lover, and entrepreneur patiently plies his trade,
thinking up elegant digital instruments-tools, he calls
them-to make sound systems sound more like-life. Back in 1984, the
grim truth of the compact disc's perfect sound forever
prompted Sinclair, in search of a higher perfection, to help create
California Audio Labs. Three years later the same quest drew him
off in another direction, to form a company whose innovation has
won plaudits from critics and made it an exemplar for serious listeners.
Meet Neil Sinclair, the quiet thunder behind Theta Digital.

I like good tools,
muses Theta's soft-spoken president, invoking a favorite theme while
rather spectacularly understating the rigor and sophistication of
devices such as Theta's Casablanca surround-sound processor. I'm
not really into possessions-with the exception of good tools-and
I've been lucky enough to be a part of creating some that didn't
previously exist. It's been a tremendous amount of fun to realize
the need, to conceptualize the solution, and to find that other
people had the same need.
From the startup of California
Audio Labs to the advent of Theta and the latest iteration of the
Casablanca, every tool Sinclair has envisioned and helped to refine
has been aimed at fixing one thing: digital sound. Now 50, Sinclair
recalls the halcyon days of 2-channel and tubes, when the holy grail
was hi-fi that really sounded like music, and when it seemed so
close-back when he operated his own audio salons, before the chilling
dawn of the compact disc.
Like a lot of other people
in this business, I came into audio from the music side, says
Sinclair. I was a musician, a drummer. I played in rock bands
and jazz groups, with anybody who needed a drummer. I was always
the artist, the dreamer. When I was a kid, I was into science fiction
and music. Electricity and electronics were a mystery. Music wasn't.
Music was the overriding, driving force. But electronics was the
door into the future, and, I thought, an obvious pathway into more
things to do with music.

When it came time for college,
at the University of California at Los Angeles, Sinclair decided
on the dual pursuits of business and interior design. But he also
kept hearing the dual drumbeats of music and audio. He went to work
in a hi-fi shop, played gigs at night, and studied. It was the same
consuming regimen that still keeps him working 70 hours a
week. By the time he was 25, he had opened his own high-end
audio store, called Absolute Audio an attitude on a marquee and
the proclamation of a life's quest.
There weren't all that many high-end stores
in those days, Sinclair says. Maybe 10 in the whole country.
But I just wanted to get something done. By the '70s, the influx of
Japanese brands--the first waves of transistor products, which delivered
the sizzle without the steak-had begun to dominate the American market.
It was hard to find good sound. Day and night and weekends,
Sinclair and his fellow fanatics tweaked and worried components to
summon the finest
possible performance. He added a second store. Then, in 1984, the
balloon burst: Sony and Philips unveiled the compact disc, the vinyl
LP went into the tank, and Perfect Sound Forever plunged Sinclair
into a state of mind to match his perception of the coming audio age:
dark.
Page Number: 1
| 2 |
3 |
4
|
|