For as long as I can remember, music has been both my companion and my sanctuary. It’s the soft wall I build between myself and the world when I need to focus, the spark that fuels late-night creative sessions, and the backdrop that steadies me while life moves in its chaotic rhythm. I’ve always wanted my music to sound its best, which naturally led me into the audiophile world—digital-to-analog converters (DACs), planar magnetic in-ear monitors (IEMs), lossless libraries, upgrade after upgrade. And for years, I assumed wireless audio meant sacrificing too much.
Then I tried the Apple AirPods Pro 3. Without expecting to, I stepped into a different kind of listening—one that didn’t outperform my wired setup in sheer fidelity, but quietly outdid it in almost everything that mattered in everyday life.
Music as a personal space
Whether I’m at home writing in the dining area or at work surrounded by keyboard clicks and chatter, I’ve always used music not just for enjoyment but for focus. The world can get loud—cars outside, TV from another room, conversations drifting across the office.
So I connect my DAC and IEM, hit play, and let familiar tracks take over. It’s how I “close the door.” Music sets my rhythm, breaks monotony, and gives me mental distance to think.
But even in those moments of escape, I was still tethered—held by cables, adapters, and a setup that didn’t welcome movement.
Tethered fidelity
Like many people drawn into audio, my journey began with a simple question: Why does this song sound different on better headphones? That curiosity turned into an appreciation for lossless audio and gear.
Lossless tracks uncovered layers I hadn’t noticed before: subtle reverb trails, quiet breaths before a vocal line, buried guitar textures. Rediscovering the music I grew up with—especially my ‘90s favorites—felt like hearing them again for the first time.
That pushed me to subscribe to Apple Music’s Lossless and Hi-Res Lossless library. To make the most of it, I picked up a DAC dongle and an entry-level planar magnetic IEM with a clean, flat response. Nothing fancy—just solid gear that delivered the clarity I now equated with “proper” listening.
I didn’t jump into wireless out of curiosity. I switched out because I was tired of dealing with cables, of pausing my music just to untangle something, of losing momentum every time I needed to move around.
Rediscovering music I thought I knew
Those first weeks with the setup were pure bliss. I downloaded gigabytes of albums and built new playlists. Each night felt like a private listening session. I stayed up late, not because I couldn’t sleep, but because the music kept giving me more.
John Mayer’s Room for Squares felt reborn; subtle guitar accents and faint riffs once lost to cheap earbuds suddenly appeared. Norah Jones’ Come Away With Me felt so intimate it was as if she were recording in my living room—every soft syllable intentional, every breath part of the song. The Smashing Pumpkins’ Mellon Collie and Infinite Sadness—already a sonic rollercoaster ride when I was younger—became even more immersive, its soft-to-explosive contrasts hit harder with every layer revealed.
It was months of rediscovery—old favorites with new details, new artists I finally appreciated, and albums that felt remastered simply because I was hearing them with better tools.
Tangled in my own setup
There’s a charm to wired listening, and I appreciated the ritual it came with. But as life got busier, the same ritual began to feel inconvenient.
Setting up the DAC and IEM combo required deliberate care: IEM to DAC, DAC to phone, phone angled so nothing tugged or twisted. If I needed to get up, I had to stop, unplug, and move like I was carrying a delicate nest of wires.
At work, whenever someone approached my desk, I’d lift one monitor off my ear while the cable tugged at me. My IEM had no mic, so taking calls meant unplugging everything. I was constantly worried about bending the cables wrong—it felt like babysitting my gear.
Soon, a question started creeping in: “Do I really want to set all this up again for just 10 minutes of listening?”
When you ask that often enough, change usually follows.
Stepping into wireless freedom
I didn’t jump into wireless out of curiosity. I switched out because I was tired of dealing with cables, of pausing my music just to untangle something, of losing momentum every time I needed to move around. I bought the AirPods Pro 3 on a whim, more impulse than audio-driven choice.
And they sounded better than I expected. The tuning is clean and balanced, with clear mids and highs that keep vocals and acoustic tracks lively. The bass has a polite punch—not overwhelming, but satisfying for daily use. The soundstage isn’t as wide as my wired IEMs, but for wireless, it feels open enough—more “just outside the head” than “trapped inside it.”
But what surprised me wasn’t the sound quality (which still doesn’t match wired IEMs). It was everything else—the features that quietly transformed how I listen.
First, the Adaptive Noise Cancellation. Not just good—shockingly good. The AirPods Pro 3’s noise cancellation didn’t just block sound; it created a calm space that felt even quieter than my wired setup. Keyboard noise vanished, cars turned into a faint hush, and the room fell silent.
Then there’s Adaptive Audio, a smart blend of transparency and isolation that adjusted in real time. Walking through the house or moving around at work, the earphones subtly shifted between amplifying important sounds and muting distractions without me pressing a thing.
And of course, Transparency Mode—so natural and open that it felt like I wasn’t wearing earphones at all. I could chat, hear announcements, or stay aware of my surroundings without ever pausing the music.
Spatial Audio was another unexpected layer. It’s not something I’d use for critical listening or comparing mixes, but for movies, live recordings, and certain albums, it adds a sense of space that wired IEMs simply don’t offer. It’s a different experience—not more accurate, just more fun—and perfect when I want something engaging without overthinking.
Because I’m already in Apple’s ecosystem of devices, it was easy to seamlessly integrate the AirPods Pro 3 in my daily routine: instant pairing, device switching, Siri access, and touch controls that worked consistently and intuitively. It was a different kind of listening—lighter, quicker, and far more flexible.z
It certainly didn’t sound like lossless audio, but suddenly I was free—to walk around the house with music floating around me. To answer calls without disconnecting anything. To toss my phone onto the sofa and stir a pot in the kitchen. To stand up from my desk without dragging a DAC across the table.
At some point, it hit me: the friction I had accepted for years with wired audio simply didn’t exist anymore. I could sit by the window with cars passing, keyboards tapping, conversations drifting around—and stay completely in my bubble. No cables. No dongles. No setup ritual. Just tap, wear, and listen.
And here’s the part I didn’t expect: I started listening more. Because it was easy. Frictionless. Always available.
Even though the sound isn’t lossless—and I do miss the micro-details of planar drivers during critical listening sessions—the trade-off is worth it in daily life. Fidelity matters, but so does the ability to enjoy more music with less effort.
In using the AirPods Pro 3, I gained something that wired audio could not yet give me: the freedom to enjoy music whenever the moment strikes, untethered.
Speed says
Going wireless hasn’t replaced my love for wired audio. I still keep my DAC and IEMs neatly tucked in their case, ready for the days when I want a more analytical, immersive listening session.
But the AirPods Pro 3 has shifted the balance. It makes listening effortless, spontaneous, and attuned to the way I move through my day. It isolates me from noise without isolating me from movement.
There’s still room for high-end audio in my life, and I’m hopeful that Bluetooth will eventually deliver true lossless playback. But for everyday listening—for the moments when convenience and immersion matter more than perfect fidelity—wireless, unexpectedly, wins.
Words and photos Jay Rega
This review was first published in Speed’s Holiday Issue 2025.
