The little Trends amp surprised the hell out of me. And not just because of its size (though it is smaller than I even imagined), but because it makes such beautiful music.

It arrived at our office on a sunny Thursday afternoon. Pender, our mailroom clerk, set the package down on my desk.

"Hmm, what's this?" I asked eagerly.

"Feels like cash," Pender joked.

He had no idea.

One hundred fifty dollars is a pair of Via Spiga evening sandals, is a 75-minute massage at Bliss, is an omakase dinner at Nobu, is a Trends TA-10.1 amp.

Maybe because it is so small or maybe because it only costs $150, I was expecting something to be missing, something to be wrong. When I gave the TA-10.1 a quick listen, however, there was nothing missing at all. In fact, it reminded me a lot of the Exposure 2010S integrated.

Ugh. I put on my audio reviewer cap. Maybe it would help, I thought. Whenever I go into reviewer mode, I get into a bad mood. Come on amp, I said, you're not supposed to sound just like the Exposure. What am I going to do? What am I going to write about? If I can't hear the difference between a $150 amp and a $1500 amp, something must be wrong with me! I reached for a favorite reference disc, Nick Cave's Lyre of Orpheus, and skipped to track three, "Babe, You Turn Me On."

One hundred fifty dollars is a suit jacket, is a monthly train pass from the suburbs to the city, is a trip to the supermarket, is a Trends TA-10.1 amp.

I sat for awhile, listening, wondering how to explain what this song is all about.

I'm sorry. I didn't come up with anything good. Maybe something is wrong with me. Maybe this isn't unusual at all. I'm not sure how else to describe it but to say that, in "Babe, You Turn Me On," music just happens all over the place. It's really special. I can't imagine how you'd write a piece of music like this. There's an acoustic guitar in one corner of the room, spinning figure-eights into the old wooden floor. In another corner, there's a slightly overdriven electric, getting drunk and trying, unsuccessfully, to light a cigarette. The lighter fluid's almost all gone. Somewhere off in the background, there's a piano tossing coins into a cloud of thin smoke, and an organ getting all weepy-eyed and thoughtful. All of these delicate events seem to be winking at one another, teasing and smirking and shrugging their shoulders like they don't really care, gently disparate and slightly desperate dudes whose attention is held together by a nonchalant bass line wearing cheap (but unforgettable) perfume, and a drum beat that's barely played, brushes falling lazily — no, expertly — against a carefully tightened snare and tapping the ride at just the right moment and Nick Cave singing, "Babe, you turn me on, like a light bulb, like a song."

And he snaps his fingers just to make sure you heard.

Everything in this song is an accident and an accentuation. If this song were the weather, it'd be a sunshower and a rainbow way off in the distance. Does that sound corny?

Nick Cave sings:

I put one hand on your round ripe heart
And the other down your panties.

This song is corny.

Corny and perfect, as far as I can see.

And the little, unassuming Trends amp got it right. It sounded just as I remembered. Which is to say, it sounded just like the Exposure. Huh? I reminded myself of a certain Wes Phillips review. I switched over to the Exposure. It sounded the same. I tried listening to the entire CD and then switching. Same. Switched after one track. Same. Listened at different volumes. Same. Attempted really fast switching. Same.

Same.

Same.

I was stumped. From my listening notes:

Sounds the fuckin' same.

One hundred fifty dollars is a Trends TA-10.1. One hundred fifty dollars is obviously not enough, I thought. One hundred fifty dollars! One hundred fifty dollars? Something is wrong with their sales guys.

I switched back to the Trends amp. Near the end of "Babe, You Turn Me On," the acoustic guitar stops spinning those figure-eights. The guitarist — I think it's Mick Harvey, actually — starts playing a muted four- or five-note riff over and over again. He might be plucking a harmonic in there, too. It's a gentle and circular thing, like a clock ticking off its last seconds. The Trends amp, I thought at the time, made that last bit of music sound more like flesh against brass strings.

I was tired of listening. No — not tired of listening (I could have listened long into the early morning), but I was tired of trying to hear differences. I reached for my guitar to see if I could replicate the sound of Mick Harvey's riff. (Maybe the answer will be there! I thought, I hoped, I reached.)

But, no. I couldn't figure that out, either.