News

Art Dudley passed peacefully this morning around 4am after a short illness. The cause was metastatic cancer.

Art bought his first record—Roger Miller's "King of the Road," the single—at age 8 or 9. He picked up the guitar at 16 and played throughout his life. When he was young, he had a band, The Norm.

Starting in the late '70s, Art worked at Backpacker magazine. In 1985, he joined The Absolute Sound as its managing editor, quitting that gig after precisely a year. After that, he earned his living in other ways while dabbling in hi-fi writing. Then, in 1994, after learning he'd been laid off from his job teaching sixth-graders—not enough fifth-graders, apparently—he decided to start Listener, a highly opinionated journal of music and audio. (It's safe to say that everything Art ever did was highly opinionated.)

Listener covered single-ended triodes, integrated amplifiers, turntables, tweaks, and music. It was known for its distinctive covers. Listener was an important magazine, profitable and with an enthusiastic following. In 1999, shortly after the birth of his daughter, Art sold Listener to Belvoir Publications, staying on as editor. Despite the magazine's continuing success, the company shut it down in late 2002. (See John Atkinson's comments for more details.)

Art's first column—Listening #1—appeared in Stereophile in the January 2003 issue. His first words: "Even poor people fly." That column also included this sentence, which would inform everything he wrote for this magazine: "Music is easy to miss for the listener who thinks his job is to concentrate on the sound." His final column—#210—appears in Stereophile's June issue.

I got to know Art well only after I became Stereophile's editor, in early 2019. Over the year we worked closely together, I came to admire him as much as anyone I've known. Art was a superb writer, witty, opinionated, and disciplined, and a fierce editor of other people's words—fierce, but kind. He was accomplished, and he knew it, but it never went to his head: He remained dogged and meticulous until that became impossible, after he got sick mere weeks ago.

Art was quiet, funny, and self-effacing, but in his own way he was—that word again—fierce in everything he did. He was my partner and my friend.

Three days ago, Janet, Art's wife, sent a text message to John Atkinson and me, sharing a story. Art was in pain but still lucid.

"I need to tell you both what just happened as it is SO Art Dudley," Janet wrote. Art had told her, "I just cannot get away from my thoughts," and then, "I need to tell you something: There's not going to be a last piece." Janet wrote: "Of course, I heard that as PEACE, and my heart was breaking, and then I realized he meant PIECE of his writing. And I told him, 'It's ok, you can put down the pen now, you've written all you need to write. You can hit send and be done.' And he said, 'Good, I kept thinking I would be expected to write a last piece, and there's not going to be one.' And I told him you all were going to ensure his writing legacy lives on. And he smiled and nodded and said, 'Good.' Now he's sleeping quietly."—Jim Austin

John Atkinson adds some thoughts
I had been familiar with the name "Art Dudley" from seeing it listed as managing editor on the staff page of mid-1980s issues of The Absolute Sound. So when Art's byline started appearing at the end of the '80s, first in Hi-Fi Heretic magazine, then in Sounds Like . . ., I paid attention. Here was an insightful writer who combined convincing observations with considered points of view, humor with a steel core beneath.

Both magazines that featured Art's reviews were short-lived, and I approached Art at a hi-fi show in 1994 about his joining Stereophile's team. He politely but firmly turned me down, explaining that as he had been laid off from his job as a sixth-grade teacher, he and his wife Janet were going to start their own magazine, Listener. I promised that if ever Listener ceased publication, a spot on Stereophile's masthead would be waiting for him.

An editor judges competing magazines by how many articles they publish that he wishes he had published. And on that score, Listener was a superb magazine. Reviews of often obscure but deserving brands were combined with in-depth articles on music, refreshing show reports (sometimes penned by Janet), and editorials and essays, mostly by Art, that adhered to my own philosophy: express an original thought; support it; and convincingly sum it up. And throughout it all shone Art's sense of humor: whether it was offering a photo of a bunny to offended readers; or printing a single letter on the 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 Janet's pet cat.

Other publishing companies also saw what Art was achieving, and in December 1999, Belvoir Publications bought Listener from Art and Janet. Art continued as editor, but 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. 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.

"Of course!" I replied, adding that "the idea of you contributing to Stereophile has me jazzed." We agreed that as a freelance writer Art would start a monthly column, to be called "Listening," and contribute equipment reports. The first column appeared in the January 2003 Stereophile, as did Art's first review, of the Final Laboratory Music-4 phono preamplifier, Music-5 line preamplifier, and Music-6 power amplifier.

Being able to publish Art Dudley was a highlight of my tenure as Stereophile's editor, and in June 2015 I was able to offer him a full-time job as the magazine's deputy editor. As Jim Austin writes above, he fulfilled that role superbly.

Art's passing is a loss not just to Stereophile but to the worlds of audio and music. (Art was a gifted bluegrass guitarist and contributed for some years to Fretboard Journal magazine.) He will be missed, but his writings live on: You can find everything he wrote for Stereophile here, a video profile here and a video conversation about Listener magazine with Herb Reichert here.

Art, thank you for all you did for Stereophile.—John Atkinson

Michael Fremer writes
I first met Art back in 1986, when Harry Pearson hired me to write for The Absolute Sound. Art's level-headed demeanor and buttoned-down sense of humor were the opposite of me, which is probably why we instantly clicked. It wasn't Stan and Ollie, but after both of our magazines folded (which, believe me, was hardly funny for either of us), if we had decided on a comedy career, it would have been like that. I was honored to be Listener's popular music editor for a while, and Art's joining Stereophile was the best news. Though our musical and sonic tastes often differed, when my prose goes south and I am having difficulty framing my ideas, the cure has always been (and will continue to be) opening any copy of Stereophile and reading Art's column. To say that Art will be missed is a cliché, but it's all I've got right now..—Michael Fremer

Herb Reichert:
Whenever Art Dudley called me, he would say, "Hello Herb, it’s Old Art." I would remind him that he was still young and that I was genuine old, not him.

Only weeks ago, on an unseasonably warm day, I was walking down the street and my phone rang. It was "Old Art." He was editing my latest work, and he called to ask, "Herb, would you give me permission to capitalize the word 'God' in this sentence?" I believe that humble question tells you, his readers, more about Art than I ever could.

Completely casually, in a sunny afternoon way, that conversation segued into a discussion about the nature of God and what might happen when we pass over to the other side. Art told me his views on death and heaven (and that other place) then asked me what I imagined it would be like. Quoting somebody, I said, "We don’t remember being born and we won’t remember dying, but I feel certain it is nice on the other side." Art said he thought so, too. But I did warn him: "It might be scary the same way flying is scary." (Art did not like flying.) And I cautioned him: "It’s best not to be grumpy when you get to heaven. Do not make a bad first impression on God!" I thought of that yesterday as I told him I loved him on the phone.

Art was my writing and music mentor and unquestionably one of the biggest influences on the person I have turned out to be. I remember Art and I having another editorial discussion, about an article I had written for his audio magazine, Listener (which specialized in great writing and photos of bunny-behinds). Art was upset with something I wrote, and he scolded me like a bad dog. I told him, "No one ever scolded me like that—not even my ex-wife." I heard him laugh as he said, "But she didn’t give you complete permission to scold back. I do."

Every time I spoke to Art on the phone, I would close by begging for "just one more" pinup photo of his naughty dog, Chatter.

As Art lay dying these last days, I kept reading and rereading the latest installment of his new column, "Revinylization #4"—especially the first part about Nancy Priddy—and thinking how true this is: Art could write about anything, no matter how silly or mundane, and it would feel smart, witty, and snarky, and maybe even a little sarcastic underneath, but it would be intimate, and sincere, and real. Art’s writing always grabbed me by the shirt and pushed my face into the page and made me see what was hidden between the lines. More than any other audio writer, Art Dudley’s voice-driven prose made being an audiophile human and close-up.