If you’re going to boast about how important music is in your life, or how passionate you are about it, please don’t let me catch you defiling it with the miserable excuse for a loudspeaker that is your mobile device. I simply can’t help but to cringe anytime I happen upon a group of people sitting around, with that tinny upper midrange passband emanating from the scant diaphragm lodged within the body of the phone like a piece of gravel in a worn tire.
If your deepest hunger can be sated with a single bite of a stale fruit, not only would I question the severity of your craving, but the substance of your taste as well. Likewise, if your “passion” for music can be satisfied with such a deplorable rendition of whatever artist’s work you happen to be playing, then not only do I challenge everything that you have to say in favor of your respect for the composition, but your qualifications as a discerning listener as well.
I realize that this is bound to ruffle some feathers, but if the shoe fits, wear it. You don’t amass reverence as a passionate music enthusiast by posing as one, meanwhile embracing the most pedestrian of listening habits. I see many distinguished audiophiles catch undue flack on account of the imposters who undermine the pastime, and rob the art of its significance. I’m not happy about that.