In the view that all valuable artistic expression combines creative looseness with technical precision, Way Out West sits on a knife’s edge between the two. The somewhat stilted studio chatter reveals Sonny leading a date surrounded by relative strangers. Still, the ramshackle nature of the early-morning session, which corralled three players with no common history and club drinks still in their systems, precipitated a creative slack that permeates the music.

In the end, Stereo Records survived less than a year. If it was built with the actual expectation of owning the word “Stereo,” that quick fate seems predestined. Though it may make more sense to view this as an elaborate trial balloon for the format, intended to suss out the market’s viability while shielding the main labels.

After years lugging his European mics around town, Lester Koenig built a studio in late ‘55, transforming the stockroom at 8481 Melrose Place. Key hires Roy DuNann and Howard Holzer built the mastering room in 1958, and Contemporary Records, Inc. positioned itself on the forefront of stereo sound.

So I walked two blocks north to another record store, where I fumbled through the bins and found a stereo Blonde On Blonde with the 9-picture gatefold. The price tag was bigger than anything I’d bought to date, but in the immortal words of Denzel Washington: I'm leaving here with something.