It could be worse. Van Halen’s first studio album in nearly 15 years—and its first with Roth in almost three decades—could’ve sunk to the level of Sammy Hagar’s “supergroup” Chickenfoot. While the quartet, augmented by Eddie Van Halen’s son Wolfgang on bass, should’ve adhered to the concision exemplified by Women and Children First and Fair Warning, each featuring just nine tracks, there’s enough passable fare scattered amidst the 13 songs to prevent mockery and, there are no syrupy ballads. Still, in spite of a few inspirational bursts, the band seems out of ideas and generally, acts as a foil for Eddie’s pyrotechnic guitar stunts. The puffed-out-chest exuberance, top-of-the-world confidence, and raw force of its past are gone.

Yet drummer Alex Van Halen’s Venice Beach muscleman flex and gut-thumping toughness, Roth’s flashy exclamations and self-conscious camp, and Eddie’s high-wire fret acrobatics and whammy-bar-bending solos surface in places. When the devices are collectively put in the service of song, as on the catchy glam-pop “Tattoo,” carefree strut “Beats Workin’,” or prancing “She’s the Woman,” Van Halen distances its reputation as a hard-rock band that simply reformed for another nostalgia-based cash grab. And it retains the sense to know from what early material it should liberally borrow. After a thudding introduction, “As Is” reveals itself as a doppelganger for “Hot For Teacher,” scurrying pace and finger-tapped licks included. The acoustic-into-electric blues signatures and Roth’s conversational yippety-yap jive on “Stay Frosty”? Yep, “Ice Cream Man” has returned, cold themes preserved. Roth even tries to reprise his trademark squeal on “Big River,” bolstered by old-fashioned give-and-take grist between the Van Halen brothers, even if his results are more Asylum-era Gene Simmons than vintage DLR.

In procuring “new” tunes, Van Halen allegedly pulled from demos and instrumental sketches recorded years ago. For better and worse, there seems to be some truth to the theory. The piecemeal construction of the paint-by-numbers “Blood and Fire” and one-dimensional “China Town” lack cohesiveness and suggest everything is built around pre-existing guitar lines rather than developed melody. A Different Kind of Truth often wants for more of the latter as well as the ample spaciousness and unforced attack present on Van Halen’s most aggressive classics. Insufficient, too, is the knife-sharpness and spring-coiled crunch of Eddie’s tones, which, at their best, double as switchblades that balance Roth’s hand-wagging flair. And while the collective’s lyrics have seldom been much more than afterthoughts, cringe-worthy lines abound. Eddie’s Racer X-styled flurries, corkscrew turns, and zip-zah-zang arpeggios marginally save a number of plodding songs from imitation status.

But even a mostly reinvigorated virtuoso can’t rescue the messy “Honeybabysweetiedoll,” Hagar-esque “Outta Space,” or pile-driving “Bullethead” from the scrap heap. Hearing Eddie, sans accompaniment, dazzle on a few experimental instrumentals would be preferable to such fodder. At this juncture, the likelihood of the reclusive musician pushing himself to those limits seems remote. Above the dulled, synth-based fluff of later-era Van Hagar albeit absent the boisterous sleaze and hook-drenched swagger of the group’s heyday, A Different Kind of Truth constitutes a minor victory, however compromised.

In those early days, Cohen was a relatively young man who merely sounded ancient, his voice conjuring Old Testament imagery even when he looked like an uncomfortable kid in his dad’s suit. Nowadays he’s grown fully into that glorious instrument—not to mention the finely tailored threads that have become his signature look. Indeed, if god has a singing voice, one would imagine it sounds something like Cohen’s deep, graveled baritone. It’s a concept that doesn’t seem outside the realms of possibility considering the Book of Revelations vibe that often runs through the Canadian native’s best material.

Interestingly enough, Old Ideas, Cohen’s finest work since 1988′s I’m Your Man, opens with “Going Home,” a graceful number that successfully punches a hole in this godly image. The singer chides himself as a “lazy bastard living in a suit” before surmising, “He will speak these words of wisdom/Like a sage, a man of vision/Though he knows he’s really nothing.” While still a carnal being—“I ain’t had much lovin’ yet,” he sings coyly on “Anyhow”—it’s clear his fascination with the pleasures of the flesh have somewhat dulled with escalating age. “I’m tired of choosing desire,” he sings pointedly atop minimal acoustic strumming on “Crazy to Love You.”

Instead Cohen, who was born into Judaism and later lived in seclusion in a Zen monastery before being ordained a Buddhist monk, spends much of the album exploring more universal issues of spirituality. On “Amen” he sings of angels and vengeful gods, delivering his weighty words like Moses handing down the Ten Commandments. A softer side surfaces on “Come Healing,” a string-kissed psalm awash in angelic female voices and subtle church organ.

The musical arrangements are carefully considered, framing Cohen’s words rather than driving the action—a welcome departure from the drippy synthesizers that unfortunately defined his work for more than two decades. Perhaps inspired by two years of intensive touring, the singer stretches out, flirting with menacing blues (“Anyhow”), dusty Ennio Morricone film scores (“Lullaby”), and shuffling country rock (“Banjo”).

Throughout, Cohen sounds keenly aware of his own mortality (“I know my days are few,” he cautions on “Anyhow”), making Bob Dylan’s 1997 album Time Out of Mind a clear reference point. Still, the singer-songwriter doesn’t sound like he’s settling up his earthly affairs in anticipation of that final journey, whatever form it might take. If anything, his curiosity, wit, and humor have only been sharpened by the passing of time. Consider Old Ideas more of a return to form than a parting shot of any kind. It’s good to have you back, old friend.

New for 2012!

A complete list of our record reviews for the past year along with a comprehensive
overview of our concert coverage and artist interviews, with an issue by issue listing
at the end. A perfect recap for your record purchases this year! Keep this one on
your tablet or smartphone to jog your memory.

Three duet efforts with Isobel Campbell, a stint with the Queens of the Stone Age, appearances on sets by Marianne Faithfull and Soulsavers, and a go-around as one half of the Gutter Twins gave the ex-Screaming Trees crooner plenty of time to dwell on original material. And akin to 2004’s Bubblegum, Blues Funeral blows open the primarily acoustic roots-based approach taken on his first five solo records. What hasn’t changed is Lanegan’s impactive voice—impregnated with back-of-throat huskiness, nicotine-stained depth, lived-in wisdom, and liquor-soaked ache. It’s an intense instrument—a soul-penetrating stare wielded with careful precision as it wades into dark landscapes scarred with mental disease, corrosive relationships, sad disgrace, enslaving addictions, and unhealthy fixations.

While of limited range, Lanegan switches between his shovel-scraping baritone and mellower falsetto capacities. The former digs at unrequited desires while the latter works to convey undying dedication. Measured, dusky, and unhurried, the daylight-allergic frontman’s voice alternately palpitates with claustrophobic presence and tortured mysticism. This is a man for who gray cedes to black, the hangman constantly lurks, and bullets and guns qualify as appealing. Navigating emotions hair-triggered by blossoming chaos, ruined loves, and deleterious circumstances, Lanegan surfs atop brimming tension and sweeping crescendos as well as any contemporary singer. He inhales words into his lungs before exhaling with unforced anguish. A twisted spirituality informs his phrasing and timbre, helping turn deliverance pleas into requiems of Biblical proportions. Lanegan makes feeling bad sound incredibly good, inviting listeners into clandestine worlds in which temporary visits are preferable to taking up residence.

Obsessive longing recurs, and never more so than on “The Gravedigger’s Song.” Metronomic jungle rumbling and blindsiding guitar riffs coincide with smothering vocals and a verse delivered in seductive, low-register French—the move underscoring Lanegan’s smitten condition and poetic wanderlust. On the electronically textured “Harborview Hospital,” he’s removed from a beautiful union and joyous celebration spotted in the near distance and, unable to free himself from a paralyzed state, asks a sister of mercy, “Are they supposed to be as sick as you and me?” For Lanegan, desolation isn’t a curable emotion or cause for shame; like it is for Kirsten Dunst’s character in Lars von Trier’s Melancholia, it’s an ailment that must be tolerated. Salvation, if all possible for this burdened Saturday’s child, comes from blind faith, blunt confessions, and imaginative atmospherics.

Whether via the tangled folk psychedelia of the balladic “Deep Black Vanishing Train” or noisy R&B throttle of the aptly titled “Quiver Syndrome,” complete with doo-wop backing vocals, Lanegan couches shivers, moans, and grumbles amidst mercurial musical combinations. He largely skirts conventional rock structures, daring instead to stir within manipulated trip-hop backdrops (“Phantasmagoria Blues”) and avant-garde chamber-pop melodies (“Leviathan”). On the synth-pop “Ode to Sad Disco,” Lanegan even channels late-80s Depeche Mode and Leonard Cohen. Pairing a drum-machine track with a reverb-spiked country guitar line, he creates a dance number tailored for the coat-check room in Satan’s discotheque

At $1,995 (with cable attached), the FX•R is competitively priced with its peers, the SME 309 ($2,295) and Rega RB1000 ($1,995). As detailed below, extended listening proves the FX•R as quite the bargain. Reviewed here is the $2,200 model with 5 – pin DIN plug to allow the tonearm cable of your choice.

Some might brush off the FX•R off as another modded Rega arm. But this model goes beyond the traditional rewire and damping treatment supplied by most purveyors. Three versions are available: the standard FX•R, with a mount similar to the original RB300; the FX•RII, with a winged mount like the RB 600-1000 arms possess; and a third model that acts as a “drop in” replacement for the Linn LP-12 arms.

The FX•R provides VTA adjustment and a 5-pin tonearm cable plug. The “simple cartridge mount” is the only feature that throws me for a loop, as it’s still as much work as any other ‘table lacking removable headshells. However, the clips that connect to the cartridge pins are much more robust than the standard Rega items—an excellent upgrade. For a complete technical explanation of the FX•R’s construction click here.

Courtesy of its small diameter and cross-bracing scheme, the arm tube represents the FX•R’s biggest variation on theme. By eliminating several common resonance and vibration issues, the FX•R claims to provide more solid bass response, a more open midrange, and greater low-level detail retrieval than other arms. ABEC–7 grade bearings (the same level of quality used in the SME V tonearm) are substituted for standard Rega bearings. A complete rewiring is also executed.

While I’m not in the habit of performing product shootouts, doing so seemed too intriguing to skip, and with an RB1000 and SME 309 on hand, along with a pair of AVID Volvere SP turntables, I threw down the gauntlet. A pair of Sumiko Pearwood cartridges were used for the comparison, and both ‘tables were optimized with the Feickert Adjust + system. Plugging both ‘tables into the magnificent Vitus Audio MP-P201 phonostage allowed effortless A/B comparisons in real time. Moreover, thanks to its pivoted headshell, the FX•R is quickly brought into alignment, with bias and tracking force set as you would any other Rega arm. The adjustable VTA is most welcome.

Wow Factor

Via the FX•R, Thomas Dolby’s “I Scare Myself” from The Flat Earth and the Art of Noise’s “Camilla: The Old, Old Story” from In Visible Silence each reveal a significantly larger soundstage than to which I’m accustomed. Since they’re heavily processed, the songs certainly don’t tell much about tonal accuracy. Yet their overblown soundstage and attention-to-minute detail handily disclose a component’s ability to reproduce spatial cues.

Acoustic and vocal tracks, especially those with layered harmonies, disclose the efforts made to control resonance on the FX•R. An ideal example comes from Amy Winehouse and Tony Bennett’s “Body and Soul,” a duet on the former’s posthumous Lioness: Hidden Treasures. The singers personify smooth, and the result feels like one is listening to open-reel tape. Both voices hang in the air, filling the room, each taking a very distinct space in front of the listening chair.

Arguably, a violin is the toughest thing for analog to convincingly reproduce. Again, the FX•R impresses. Listening to a young Anne Sophie Mutter play Mozart violin concertos on a 1982 DG release equates to bliss, the music emanating without a hint of screechiness even though DG recordings can tilt toward the bright side.
Most convincingly, the FX•R delivers prodigious bass information—the entire trifecta of weight, detail, and control. This is what separates good tonearms from great ones. On classic Boogie Down Productions hip-hop, omnipresent grunt balances the driving reggae beat in “Bo! Bo! Bo!” (from the group’s Ghetto Music: The Blueprint of Hip Hop) while keeping the percussion tidy. At the opposite end of the aural spectrum, Jaco Pastorius’ self-titled album dishes up an abundance of bass texture and speed, through which the FX•R sails.

Head to Head

Initial excitement gleaned from new components makes it easy to get caught up in the moment and issue grandiose proclamations. Two identical ‘tables, with the only variable being the tonearm and a cache of duplicate titles from Mobile Fidelity, allow for context and streamline the comparison process.

Having spent hundreds if not thousands of hours with the SME 309 and Rega RB1000, these arms with which I’m not only very familiar but very fond. The SME’s removable headshell and easy adjustability are big pluses for anyone with multiple cartridges. Yet the rigidity lost at the headshell-to-arm junction costs a bit of upper bass weight. The RB1000 renders great top-to-bottom response and is incredibly easy to set up and use, especially with a Rega cartridge. However, the lack of adjustability is the price one pays in a non-Rega setup.

Funk Firm’s “Think of [the FX•R] as a Ford Cosworth or an AMG Mercedes” pitch repeatedly comes to mind during listening sessions. With direct comparisons via MoFi’s recent remasters of James Taylor’s JT and Rod Stewart’s Gasoline Alley, the FX•R always digs deeper into the music, not only painting a bigger sound space but rewarding with more decay and bits of information obscured by the other setup. Isn’t this what it’s all about for maniacal audiophiles?

There’s no question the FX•R extracts more music from grooves than the SME 309 or Rega RB1000. Warhorse tracks I’ve heard many times before always bring forth previously unnoticed details. Slayer had more bite, Sonic Youth more grit, and even Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” is again a pleasure.

Makes the Grade

This is all about subtlety, for which one usually needs to shell out big bucks in analog. It’s refreshing to see a component this good that isn’t out of reach of most audiophiles. Even with a modest cartridge, the Funk Firm FX•R sets a new benchmark for what’s possible at $2,000 and still, remains up to task by going beyond the Sumiko Pearwood and moving up to the Sumiko Palo Santos, Koetsu Urushi Blue, and SoundSmith Susurro Paua by taking advantage of these premium cartridges’ additional resolution.

I’m happy to award the FX•R an Exceptional Value Award for 2012. This fine tonearm is now an integral part of my analog arsenal, and I look forward to investigating more of the company’s offerings. Very highly recommended.

The Funk Firm FX•R Tonearm

MSRP: $1,995 (with captive cable)
$2,200 (five pin -DIN)
$2,500 (12″ cable)
$2,600 (12″ sans cable)

Manufacturer’s Information

http://www.thefunkfirm.co.uk

January is traditionally a slow time for live shows. Yet soon enough, announcements for spring dates, the excitement associated with South By Southwest, and the unveiling of lineups for destination festivals will put everyone back into a virtual club—or, in the case of Lollapalooza, a virtual lakefront park). Such anticipation prompts reflection on the year that just was.

In addition to reporting for the Chicago Tribune on the three-day fests otherwise known as Lollapalooza, Pitchfork Music Festival, and the Dave Matthews Caravan, and taking in the Montreal International Jazz Festival for TONE Audio, I had the privilege of witnessing more than 60 standalone concerts in 2011. Of the more than 250 artists I saw onstage, here are my ten favorite performances.

1. Deadmau5 at Lollapalooza (August 7, Chicago)
Starting his headlining performance almost exactly at the moment a pounding rainstorm commenced, the Toronto electronic maestro turned Grant Park into the world’s biggest and liveliest mud pit with a scorching light show and nonstop dance beats.

2. Drive-By Truckers at Vic Theatre (February 25, Chicago)
Playing with tremendous purpose and intensity, the always-reliable Truckers delivered a career-spanning set that made a case for the Alabama ensemble being the best live rock band on any given night.

3. Janelle Monae at Aragon Ballroom (May 27, Chicago)
Drawing on everything from golden-era silent films to science-fiction themes, the R&B phenomenon sang, danced, and painted her way through a breathtaking affair teeming with fervent energy and bold vision.

4. Guns N’ Roses at Allstate Arena (November 15, Chicago)
Fans that waited nearly two decades for Axl Rose to channel his old self were rewarded with a marathon extravaganza that, while falling short of the excellence displayed in 1991-92, eclipsed the original band’s 1993 trek. Don’t believe it? Cue up “Estranged” here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aOzrtr3IsBc.

5. (TIE) Prince at Metropolis; Brad Mehldau and Joshua Redman at Theatre Maisonneuve (June 25, Montreal)
On one night, pianist Mehldau and longtime collaborator Redman gave a clinic in pointillistic jazz while, hours later, the Purple One took over a small club with unrivaled showmanship, astounding instrumental acumen, and an enviable way with song.

6. Twilight Singers at Metro (May 17, Chicago)
On his best showing since the Afghan Whigs disbanded, Greg Dulli led his enthusiastic band through an unforgettably soulful show that renews one’s faith in music and prompts them to binge on the performer’s catalog for weeks.

7. Titus Andronicus at Lollapalooza (August 8, Chicago)
Setting a new standard that all Lollapalooza openers should follow, Titus Andronicus blazed through underdog-themed anthems tailor-made for a society mired in economic disparity and social unease.

8. Rihanna at United Center (June 15, Chicago)
No mainstream pop star better understands the secrets to an engaging arena spectacle than Rihanna, who buffeted a balanced blend of costume changes, visual props, and dance routines with a constant stream of contagious hits.

9. Elvis Costello at Chicago Theatre (May 15, Chicago)
The return of the Spectacular Spinning Songbook concept found Costello recharged, tearing through five opening songs in less than 16 minutes and accenting older material with avant-garde solos plucked from Thurston Moore’s playbook.

10. Brandi Carlile at Park West (December 1, Chicago)
Blowing away anything she’s put on record, the Seattle-based singer-songwriter went it alone and charmed with a disarming voice and independent streak that suggested Adele-like fame could be in her future if she makes a solo record absent a backing band.

Those with $1,000 budgets face a tougher quandary. Excellent models exist in both the moving coil and moving magnet camps, but the MC requires more to work its magic. Many $1,000-$2,000 preamplifiers feature both MM and MC operation, yet all make sacrifices to accommodate the high gain and variable loading of MC cartridges. Ultimately, something suffers.

The $1,999 Audion Premier phonostage is strictly for MM cartridges. It’s built on a small chassis (think early PrimaLuna ProLogue amps, but smaller) with one set of inputs and outputs optimized for one task—one at which it excels. Lower gain and no switching or jumpers means a simpler circuit, which translates into better sound. If you are a music lover that yearns to reach beyond a basic $500-$1,000 analog front end, but not sell the farm, the Premier warrants consideration.

A peek underneath the chassis reveals a tidy printed circuit board, premium parts, and a well-shielded power transformer. Nothing is overdone on this old-school design. An extremely handy back-panel switch lets you float the ground. Hum is the enemy of low-level phono signals, and it’s not uncommon to still have 60hz enter the picture no matter how careful you are with everything else. This little switch brings you back to absolute silence. I wish more manufacturers would include one.

Let’s Roll—Or Not

The Premier utilizes a pair of ECC88 (6922/6DJ8) tubes. Russian NOS 6H23 tubes are supplied and exhibit excellent all-around performance. On-hand NOS variations on the 6DJ8 prove different but not better in any sense, so I suggest using the Premier with the stock tubes unless you feel inclined to step up to a pair of EAT ECC88s. At $225 apiece, the latter diminishes the Premier’s budget ethos but yields greater transparency and finer detail without sounding harsh or etched.

Optimized for a standard 47k ohm load, with no capacitance spec listed, the Premier works well with all of my MM cartridges, including the Clearadio Maestro Wood, Ortofon 2M Black, and Shure V15mvxr. Because of its easy headshell removal, I extensively utilized the AVID Diva II SP/SME 3009; further listening continued with the AVID Volvere SP/Funk Firm FX•RII combination and my faithful Linn LP-12/Ittok. All provided splendid albeit varied results. I used the Furutech AG-12 tonearm cable on all but the SME 3009.

A Little Warmth Goes a Long Way

Like all tube gear, the Premier sounds best after being powered up for nearly an hour. Yet, even after the first few minutes, it’s three-dimensional quality peeks through. When the clock gets close to the hour mark, a light haze lifts, allowing you to hear further into your records.

This phonostage renders sound in a way that mixes so-called “vintage tube” and “modern tube” sound, all the while adding a bit of tonal warmth you won’t mistake for solid-state. Still, ample low- and high-frequency extension prevents the unit from sounding completely vintage. Overall, it’s an excellent balance. And the modest warmth goes a long way, especially with less-than-heavenly LP pressings.

Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You Babe” from Sonny and Cher’s Greatest Hits tremendously benefits from the extra body on tap. The Linn/Shure/Audion combination proves brilliant with countless 60s and 70s favorites. Then, spinning Classic Records’ remaster of Frank Zappa’s Hot Rats shows off the phonostage’s capabilities with excellent recordings, and may just convert uninitiated listeners to the tube side of the fence.

Having had the opportunity to audition a plethora of $1,000-$2,000 phono preamplifiers, I can unabashedly state that the Premier is one of the most highly competitive models in its class. A few hundred dollars often separates winners from losers, and while all units in the lesser-expensive price bracket lack the resolution, weight, and dynamics delivered by five-figure premium phonostages, the best convey enough enchantment to reward one’s vinyl fanaticism. Along with the $2,300 Parasound JC-3, the Audion belongs at the top of its category. The solid-state Parasound is quieter, with a bit more dynamic range. But the Premier has a more beguiling tonality and midrange bloom that rewards marathon listening sessions.

Regardless of the cartridge with which it’s paired, the Premier adds extra body and sparkle. If you are hell-bent on accuracy, the Premier may not be your idea of perfection. Nonetheless, for the little bit of brilliance sacrificed on my best recordings, the Premier adds palpability to less-than-sonically-spectacular LPs with a remarkable consistency. It’s a trade-off I welcome any day. If I can’t have it all, I prefer things a touch on the warm/romantic/vivid side.

Plenty of Punch

Often, tubes, especially at the lower end of the price scale, conjure thoughts associated with a lack of pace—and warm, gooey sound that has a romantic feel absent any rhythmic drive or snap. The Premier never suffers this problem. A quick spin of Sheep on Drugs’ “Acid Test” from their Greatest Hits possesses the requisite dimensions of altered-reality club music played at discotheque volume levels. Beats hit hard while staying clean and segregated from the piercing synthesizer tracks. Records like this—i.e., those are not audiophile treasures—easily illustrate just how much resolution is available in the grooves. Lesser preamplifiers just let the presentation coagulate, and make the music sound like a big ball of midrange.

A similar small sonic miracle happens with the Shure V15vmxr. While the classic Shure pickup has achieved cult-like status, it’s always left me somewhat cold. I feel that it exhibits too much “just the facts, ma’am” character. Tonally accurate, sure, but rarely involving. Via the Premier, it paints a more three-dimensional picture that has never transpired on anything but state-of-the-art phonostages, all of which are unlikely to be paired with a $300 cartridge.

On the Premier, jazz and vocal tracks are fantastic. In particular, acoustic instruments hang in the air longer than I expect from an MM setup, and the synergy with the LP-12 is nothing less than mind-bogglingly great. More expensive MM cartridges (the Clearaudio and Ortofon) deliver a more transparent, almost modern sound, yet the most enchanting results arrive via the Shure V15 and vintage NOS Ortofon VMS20 Mk.II cartridge. This $100 eBay-procured cartridge, mounted on the AVID Diva II SP/SME 3009 combination, fooled more than one audiophile into thinking they were listening to a much more expensive setup.

While many vinyl enthusiasts equate moving magnet cartridges with entry-level steps, the Audion Premier is a product with which you can happily live and exists as proof that you don’t have to spend five figures to attain lovely analog sound. Mate it with the right cartridge, and you may never get the urge to buy a MC cartridge—it’s that good. But should you be taken with such a desire, Audion makes an MC step-up that needs only to be plugged into the Premier, making the latter fully capable of MC use.

-Jeff Dorgay

Audion Premier MM Phonostage

MSRP: $1,999

Manufacturer Info: www.audion.co.uk
US Distribution: www.trueaudiophile.com

Peripherals

Analog source AVID Diva II SP/SME 309/Clearaudio Virtuoso Wood, Linn LP-12/Ittok LV II/Shure V-15mvxr

Preamplifier Burmester 011

Power Amplifier Burmester 911 mk. 2

Speakers MartinLogan Montis

Cable Cardas Clear speaker and interconnect

Accessories Furutech DeMag, PS Audio P10 power conditioner

Rega’s new Apollo-R CD player is fantastic, redefining what can be expected for $1095. If you still enjoy playing your shiny little discs, this player will do a fantastic job. If you’re on our “like” list on Facebook, you’re automatically entered, but we will weight our decision in favor of someone telling us why they still really love the compact disc.

We’ll pick a winner on Feb. 10.

If you aren’t following us on Facebook, here’s where to go:

His winning new year’s resolution was to “eat more waffles…” You have to love that!
We did, and we sent him a pair of speakers.

Stay tuned for more great giveaways at TONEAudio!

And happy new year!

The rest is straightforward. Apollo–R shares the same Starship Enterprise-shaped CD lid as Rega’s Isis; the dark-red readouts mirror those of the past Apollo. Upon power-up, the Apollo–R is ready to play in about 30 seconds.

We will have a full review in a few weeks, after the Apollo–R has more hours on the clock. My initial impression? Highly favorable. The new model exceeds the old in every way. Yep, if you’re on the fence about trading in your old Apollo for this one, get off and do it. Rega CD players have always had an analog-like smoothness—occasionally even too much so for this writer—but never sound harsh.

Following tradition, Rega drives the cricket ball straight home here, as this model retains its predecessor’s lush midrange yet features more extension at both ends of the frequency scale. A quick listen to Bachman Turner Overdrive’s “Free Wheelin” from Audio Fidelity’s recent Not Fragile remaster conveys real grunt, where, when spun on the previous model, the music comes across as too polite.

On Donald Byrd’s “Say You’re Mine” from The Cat Walk XRCD, drums explode from a soundstage painted between my MartinLogan Montis loudspeakers. The percussion claims speed, texture, and quality I never dreamed possible from a $1,000 CD player. When going back to the original Apollo, everything just sounds smaller.

The original Apollo has always been a favorite to suggest to friends that want a great CD player for about $1,000. The Apollo–R takes such recommendations up several notches. I’m very impressed that Rega made so many improvements while holding the price steady at $1,095. And, while excellent on its own, using the Apollo-R as a transport with the new Rega DAC super-sizes the package and still holds the line on price (to $2,000) for the combination. Stay tuned for a full review.

To be certain, audiophiles opting to make purchases in these price ranges are well-heeled, yet most seem to be longtime analog lovers that are seeking out that “destination table.” They’ve owned a number of turntables and amassed a fairly substantial vinyl collection. Typically, $25k doesn’t constitute an entry-level price point for many vinyl aficionados; something is often sold or traded (maybe a jet ski or motorcycle) for the down payment, so the sting isn’t quite as severe.

While it’s easy to get carried away with any number of six-figure turntables, $25-$30k represents the sweet spot, and right where the AVID Acutus Reference SP lies. The ‘table itself lists for $19,995 and the SME V tonearm (which arrived pre-mounted on our review sample) bumps the price up another $5,495. The subchassis on comes pre-drilled for an SME tonearm, but adaptors for Rega, Triplanar, and a few others can be purchased from $100 – $225, depending on the version you require. Current Acutus owners can easily upgrade to the Reference SP—which incorporates AVID’s latest-generation digital-speed control, larger power supply, and two-drive belt system—for $6,400.

Save for a sold-out 10th Anniversary Model ($40,000) limited to just ten units, the Ref SP stands for all practical purposes as AVID’s top-of-the-line turntable. In case you’re wondering, AVID stands for “A very interesting design.” And since the Acutus served as AVID’s original turntable design, the SP Reference takes advantage of everything the manufacturer has learned during the past decade. AVID designer and director Conrad Mas explains that, a few years ago, he wanted to take the company and his products to an even higher level. “Rather than say that’s my product, take it or leave it, we listened very carefully to what our customers had to say and, bit by bit, addressed any issues they didn’t feel were best-in-class. We’ve taken this approach all the way to the packaging, with excellent results.”

Everything is Jelly

While the Ref SP is AVID’s premier turntable, the entire line benefits from Mas’ design philosophies. He feels that it is essential for a turntable to get rid of the vibrational energy in the environment as well as that in the vinyl record itself. As he likes to say, “Everything is jelly at a certain frequency; you just can’t see it. The goal is to move the all of the vibration away from the cartridge.”

The subchassis is cast from a variable density, highly granular aluminum, which damps the mid and low frequencies most effectively while even the coating on the subchassis is specifically designed to reduce the skin tension of the aluminum casting, effectively dissipating the HF resonance. Rather than cast from a solid shape the area between the bearing and the tonearm mount looks as if it is folded, giving the shape more rigidity than a solid piece, yet having lighter weight. Mas comments, “This is the most important part of the subchassis, where rigidity is most critical.” The platter takes the same approach. Mas adds: “The chrome plating on the SP Ref isn’t for the bling factor, it’s functional. It does an excellent job at killing HF resonance. We’ve tried a number of different coatings, but when we did the measurements, nothing worked as well as the chrome plating. When we listened to the different finish options, the chrome sounded best by far.” Interestingly, Mas feels that the recent trend of 180- and 200-gram LPs is counterproductive. “What we want to do is evacuate the vibration of the record as far away from the stylus as fast as possible. A 200-gram platter stores more energy that the stylus will read and adds a veil to the sound.”

Most turntables concentrate the majority of the mass in the chassis/subchassis assembly. AVID takes a different approach with its units by making the platter the most massive component. Since there’s no heavy subchassis deflecting the bearing during vibration, bearing noise is kept to a minimum. This is the main reason that the Reference SP has such a low noise floor. In addition, a polymer disc is bonded to the 10kg aluminum platter has a specially designed polymer mat bonded to it which reflects vibration created by the stylus during playback, this being channeled through the bearing that the record is mechanically grounded to.

This differs from plastic platters that store vibration or felt mats that allow the records to vibrate causing mistracking. Mas feels that a suspended ‘table represents the optimum in vinyl playback design because the springs can be tuned to a specific frequency, again effectively isolating the important stylus from outside vibration. In the vertical axis, AVID’s suspension is tuned to 2.5Hz, a factor of two lower than the average cartridge/arm compliance frequency. By comparison, a seismograph, tuned to measure the vibration of the Earth, is at .5Hz.

The Opposite Approach

The main advantage of direct-drive turntables relates to the amount of on-hand torque; by comparison, to minimize the motor’s control on the platter, belt-drive ‘tables rely on wimpy motors coupled to a tiny belt. Flying in the face of convention, AVID utilizes a powerful motor to drive the platter, thus offering more control. Belt-drive owners also likely notice the fairly pokey start-up. Not so the Ref SP. It starts quickly, just like a direct-drive broadcast table!

AVID hand-builds the motors in its factory, where they are then hand-tuned to the individual power supply that will be shipped along with the turntable. In the case of the Ref SP, the power supply alone weighs 42 pounds (19kg.) and features a 1KV power transformer. As I unpacked the box, I honestly thought the company made a mistake and shipped me one of its new power amplifiers instead. Tradition aside, the approach works flawlessly. A cursory check of the speed with the Acoustic Sounds test record and digital multimeter revealed perfect accuracy: 1000Hz on the nose.

Setup

The Ref SP requires some assembly, but thanks to the concise manual, you should be up and running within about 30 minutes, even when working at a leisurely pace. As much as you will want to spin records as quickly as possible, a more metered set-up pace will give you an even greater appreciation for the care that went into the component parts.

Once the bearing ball is inserted and the main bearing gently slid into place, you can mount the 35-pound platter on the subchassis, making mounting and aligning your cartridge a much easier task than doing so with the whole ‘table assembled—a nice touch. This streamlines the set-up process, because you aren’t fighting the turntable suspension when trying to set VTA and such. It allows closer access to the area where the stylus meets the alignment gauge and, again, a higher degree of accuracy. AVID supplies an alignment protractor to help with the overhang alignment. Mas mentions that this step is “absolutely critical.” Which is exactly why the company spent the time and trouble to create its own alignment jig for the SME tonearms. (AVID also produces these for Rega and Linn arms as well as a universal version.)

The last bit of setup involves fine-tuning the suspension and placing the chassis onto a level surface. Once the subchassis is leveled with the supplied tool, the suspension is perfectly tuned to the proper frequency. The final act involves fitting the three O-rings to the suspension towers and attaching the two drive belts, the only tough part of the entire process. First, pause in order to focus your concentration. Fortunately, my chi was in perfect order. I slipped the belts on just right on my first attempt. An $80 syringe of silicone damping fluid that usually comes with the SME V is one lone thing missing from the Ref SP box. It’s not advised. The subchassis’ unique design moves the vibration straight away from the base of the tonearm mount, effectively into the subchassis.

External damping is usually required when using a cartridge with too much compliance in an arm with too much mass, but the AVID’s low suspension frequency and clamping system eliminates the need for its use. “That’s why the SME arms get a bad reputation for wooly bass. Reflected vibration boosts bass and colors the midrange. It’s not the arm at all. And the non-linear damping in the vibration path, making up for the compliance mismatch, kills the high frequencies. Not so with our table.”

Having spent quite a bit of time with SME tables and tonearms in particular (I own four of them, from the vintage 3009 up to the V), I can assuredly state that the Ref SP is a completely different animal. If you didn’t think an SME arm could sound light and lively, guess again. Though I’ve always found SME arms slightly heavy-sounding,
their consistency and ease of setup has always made them a favorite. But with AVID’s ‘tables, there is no sonic compromise. Mas is definitely on to something.

Listening and Comparisons

While it is always difficult to actually describe the sound of any component without putting it into context, the Ref SP reminds me of a combination of my two favorite turntables: the Rega P9 and the SME 30. If you can imagine a ‘table with the weight of an SME 30 that also has the pace, timing, and speed of the P9, that’s the closest anyone can get to telling you exactly what the SP Ref sounds like.

Almost immediately, the Ref SP became the go-to mechanism in my stable of reference turntables. After a few days of comparisons, it was obvious that I could not live without it. It also meant that a couple of other turntables had to go. Its performance with grade A+ pressings was nothing short of amazing. But even with average pressings, like Emerson, Lake and Palmer’s Trilogy—a record I’ve heard hundreds of times since the 70s—revealed new tidbits. Listening to “Abaddon’s Bolero” revealed another layer of very quiet synthesizer playing at the beginning of the track. And as Greg Lake’s bass line entered, there was more texture—and the bass actually had a firm placement in the left channel. Playing the same track with the same tonearm and cartridge combination on my Oracle Delphi V spread the bass out almost evenly between the channels, with a significant loss of pace.

Staying in the classic rock vein and moving to the Classic Records pressing of Alan Parson’s I Robot also yielded a completely new experience. The background chanting in the title track possessed a chilling realism I’d never heard before, as it simply rose up and crept in and out of the forefront. Experiencing acoustic material proved equally great. Listening to Analogue Productions’ recently remastered Bill Evans The Riverside Recordings box set approximated sonic nirvana. “Polka Dots and Moonbeams,” from Moonbeams, starts gently. The ultra-low noise floor of the Ref SP brought the music up out of what seemed like nowhere; the tonality of the piano epitomized perfection. At the beginning of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No.1 in F sharp minor, Op. 1, the horns jumped right out of the soundstage in a way that they never have done in my system. Thanks to the additional dynamic range, the overall presentation felt louder since quiet passages were now significantly quieter.

Having performed a number of listening experiments with many turntable/cartridge combinations, I’ve arrived at the firm conclusion that a top-notch turntable with a modest cartridge will deliver more sound than a big-bucks cartridge on an inexpensive turntable. Even when using the Ref SP with the inexpensive Denon DL103R, I was consistently impressed at how much further I could hear into the cartridge’s capabilities. Hence, a device I considered somewhat lackluster in budget turntables turned in a stellar performance with the Ref SP. Moreover, all of the $5,000 cartridges I had at my disposal came across as relatively ho-hum (even when aligned to perfection) when mounted to a budget turntable—again confirming Mas’ analysis of how important every aspect of a turntable design is to playback. The Ref SP does a better job of extracting the music out of vinyl grooves than anything I’ve encountered—a job that is deceptively simple yet incredibly tough.

When listening to familiar records with the same cartridge (in this case, a Lyra Skala) mounted to both the Ref SP and my current reference, the Spiral Groove SG-2, the Ref SP’s additional dynamic punch became instantly apparent on heavy rock music, large-scale symphonic music, and everything in between. The ‘table’s ability to unravel the intricacies of complex recordings is simply phenomenal. What’s more, the rock-solid pitch stability and ultra-low noise floor offer up more than pinpoint imaging, painting tonal images in true three-dimensional space. Who needs multichannel when two-channel is rendered so clearly?

The Rabbit is in Hand

I’ve been chasing the analog rabbit for more than 30 years. I’d come awfully close to catching it in the past, but with the AVID, I finally got the rabbit by the ears. The Acutus Reference SP combines bespoke build quality, ease of setup, and stellar performance in a gorgeous package. What else could you possibly want?

Yes, this is the point in the review where the reviewer often says that they would “buy this ‘table if they could afford it and will really miss it when they send it back.” Not here baby. I love this ‘table; it offers by far the most enjoyable analog experience that I’ve ever had. Not only did I purchase the SP Ref, I bought two AVID tables, having also upgraded my Volvere to a Volvere SP.

The Acutus Reference SP is indeed A Very Interesting Design.

AVID Acutus Reference SP Turntable (tonearm not included)

MSRP: $19,995 (US); £13,500 (International)

Manufacturer Contact:

www.avidhifi.co.uk

Peripherals

Preamplifier Burmester 011

Power amplifier Burmester 911 mk. 3

Phono Preamplifier Audio Research REF 2 Phono, AVID Pulsare

Phono Cartridges Koetsu Urushi Blue, SoundSmith Sussurro Paua, ClearAudio DaVinci, Grado Statement 1

Tonearm SME V

Tonearm Cable Furutech Silver Arrow

Speakers GamuT S9

Power Running Springs Audio Maxim, Dmitri

Cable Shunyata Aurora

A cult favorite since debuting in 2003 with Failer, Edwards stands to benefit from her association with Vernon, who currently can’t do wrong and, more importantly, whose textural motifs adorn the singer-songwriter’s material with evocative layering, greater depth, and music-box fragility. She exchanges the humorous brashness and loose playfulness of her past for concentrated pathos, reflection, and sensitivity.

In doing so, Edwards becomes exposed in ways that, at times, makes listening uncomfortable. Fresh scars, persistent regrets, unanswered questions, two-way accusations, lingering doubts, and consuming guilt pepper her narratives. Her voice often possesses a soul-shattering sincerity and delicate softness that turns the fare into private, reflexive conversations that sound as if they transpire in front of a mirror. A majority of the songs are shot through with transformative anguish and reality-grounded balance. Yet Edwards’ greatest accomplishment on Voyageur pertains to the record’s overall mood and perspective. While poignantly addressing circumstances and feelings connected to her break-up, she never settles for vindictive revenge, emasculating blame, or debilitating pessimism.

By confronting her own flaws and roles in the dissolution, Edwards shows she’s already moved beyond anger and acquiesces to the consequences. Despite moments of weakness, disappointment, and disillusionment, Edwards suggests humans haven’t any other logical choice than to move on—no matter how hurtful as such processes can be. Reluctant understanding and shared acceptance arrive during the heart-lacerating “House Full of Empty Rooms,” an elegy on which the vocalist admits she’s less than perfect while singing, “You don’t kiss me/Not the way that I wish you would/Maybe I don’t look at you/In the way that makes you think you should.” Edwards doesn’t play martyr; rather, she finds fortitude in honest contemplation, recognizing that the process leads to the type of hope embodied in the upbeat “Sidecar” and dissipating darkness of “Going to Hell.”

Space-conscious and hovering instrumental touches—faint electronic washes, subtle xylophones, bluegrass-hinting banjos, filter-echoed guitars—underline Edwards’ guarded optimism, bringing to tunes fleshed-out arrangements and band-involved contributions largely absent from her previous efforts. From the back-and-forth exchanges on the baroque-flavored “Chameleon Comedian” to the militant percussion, sawing violin, and somber piano on the comfort-seeking “A Soft Place to Land,” tonally reverberant blends shade Edwards’ storytelling and singing. The combination is seldom more effective than on the sighing lament “Pink Champagne,” throughout which building notes cut like broken shards of glass and swelling country accents function as pain-dulling whiskey shots.

Indeed, after hearing Edwards scourge herself for mistakes that didn’t seem so, the following two tracks—the last on the album—seem anti-climatic, even as the closing “For the Record” serves as a statement of purpose on an album on which determination isn’t optional but prescribed.

Budget Gear: CEntrance DACmini CX
By Jerold O’Brien

Journeyman Audiophile: Polk LSiM707 Speakers
By Jeff Dorgay

Box Set Review: The 2011 Collections
By Bob Gendron

Old School: Klyne SK-5A Preamplifier
By Jerold O’Brien

Tone Style

Wino: The Wines of Autumn
By Wayne Garcia

The Range Rover Evoque with Meridian Audio System

Angry Birds T-Shirts

Kindle Fire: A Game Changer

StarWars Stormtrooper DJ Headphones

iHog

Music

Live Music: Girls, Dum Dum Girls, Deadmau5, Fleet Foxes and Shelby Lynne

Current Releases:
Fresh Releases in the Pop/Rock World
By the TONE Staff

Audiophile Pressings
The Smiths, Rush, Rory Gallagher, and Journey
By Jeff Dorgay and Paul Rigby

Jazz and Blues
New releases from Keith Jarrett, Marcus Strickland and Nils Petter
By Jim Macnie

Reviews:

Darth Insidious: The IsoTek Super Titan Power Conditioner
By Paul Rigby

Variation on a Theme: The Verity Amadis Speakers
By Jeff Dorgay

Let It Be: The Pass Labs XP-20 Preamplifier
By Steve Guttenberg

TONEAudio’s Product of the Year Awards

TONEAudio’s Publisher’s Choice Awards

Now with the ability to have access to your music collection without being tethered to a fixed screen puts the Sooloos system miles ahead of its competitors. They have always had the most user friendly GUI (graphic user interface) with access to metadata, allowing multiple levels of search and sort. The music lovers music server has just gotten better…

Stay tuned for more details.

You can read more technical information here, on the Rega site.

Stay tuned…

Sonus Faber importer John Hunter hosted the proceedings, and introduced Fine Sounds’ CEO Mauro Grange. Hunter then played a wide range of music over the Aidas, everything from solo acoustic guitar, funky jazz, large orchestral works, before turning up the heat with Yello’s thumpin’ beats.

The Aida uses an “Arrow Point” Damped Apex Dome tweeter, a proprietary cellulose pulp/kapok/kenaf and other natural fibers midrange driver, high-tech syntactic foam core and cellulose pulp sandwich woofers, and a nanocarbon/honeycomb infra woofer. The cabinet is an elaborate “Lyra-shape,” multi-chambered design, outfitted with numerous resonance control measures. The drop-dead gorgeous finish, even by Sonus Faber standards, was simply stunning. Aida was being played with Audio Research electronics, including a Reference 5 preamp, Ref CD8 CD player, and the speakers were biamped with Reference 250 and DS450 amps.

I wasn’t in the sweet spot for most of the auditions, but the sound was big, bold and juicy. I was in the ideal position for Yello, and the Aidas not only threw a massive soundstage, the out-of-phase elements of the mix were projected well out in front of the speakers. The effect was as close to surround sound as I’ve heard from a pair of speakers.

The Aida will retail for $120,000 per pair.

– Steve Guttenberg

Close inspection reveals similar styling cues to current Clearaudio designs—and for good reason. The Giro is built at the Clearaudio factory. However, it is not merely a rebadge of an existing model. Giovanni Sacchetti, founder and designer at Unison Research, had for years been working on a turntable design. Yet tool-up costs to make a single ‘table remained prohibitive. Approaching Clearaudio proved fruitful. The latter produced the Giro for Unison and maintained the integrity of Sacchetti’s design.

The biggest difference between Clearaudio and the Unison model resides with the latter’s main bearing, which utilizes an inverted steel shaft (coupled with a ceramic sphere) rather than Clearaudio’s anti-magnetic type. The isolation feet are also more complex than the standard Clearaudio designs, and there’s also the presence of wooden sections, oriented via grain pattern to control resonance on the acrylic plinth.

The $3,995 Giro can be ordered with its UN1 MM cartridge for an additional $550. While this is a great way to start, the Giro provides a platform capable of working with more resolving cartridges. Hence, it’s a ‘table you can enjoy for years. You will be able to make significant cartridge upgrades before the Giro becomes the limiting factor in your analog front-end. For many listeners, it will be the last turntable they need.

Assembly by the Numbers

An enclosed instruction manual proves a tremendous help with turntable setup, yet it omits one critical step—adjustment of anti-skate. The Clearaudio Universal tonearm shares the same anti-skate mechanism, modulated by an adjuster that decreases the amount of anti-skate force applied by moving it in towards the turntable pivot. You can download the Universal instruction manual here: http://www.clearaudio.de/download/tonarme/universal_de_en.pdf

The motor electrically plugs into the plinth via a connector that looks like an RJ-45 Ethernet plug. And it’s encased in a separate pod, eliminating vibration caused from being directly attached to the plinth. Everything is hidden by an attractive magnetic cover that enhances the unit’s sleek design.

Aesthetically and sonically, the wood-bodied Sumiko Pearwood II ($2,499) MC cartridge proves an excellent match for the Giro. A second Pearwood II made it easy for me to compare the Giro to two slightly pricier competitors: the AVID Diva II SP with SME 309 arm (about $6,000) and the Rega P9 with RB 1000 arm ($4,995). The fixed tonearm cable on the P9 and Giro was the only minor difference preventing a 100% direct comparison between the three models.

Meanwhile, the Feickert Analog suite of alignment tools kept this trio of turntables perfectly matched to each other. (It’s also worth noting that speed accuracy of the Giro was spot on out of the box, and that changing speed between 33 1/3 and 45RPM was easily changed from a control on the plinth.)

Nimble

The Giro’s very lively presentation jumps right out between the speakers and will never be mistaken for anything but pure analog -it is devilishly quiet, with a silkiness that makes the music feel as if it simply rises up between the speakers. The Giro zips through musical details with a level of finesse that far outstrips anthing in the $900-$1,500 range. There’s more of everything: more weight on the bottom, and a combination of smoothness and resolution on top. This solid performer is worth the asking price. Listeners graduating from lesser ‘tables will experience a fair share of “it feels like I have a new record collection” moments.

“Master Sigh,” from Andrew Bird’s Useless Creatures, immediately showcases the Giro’s prowess for revealing inner detail. Bird’s harp floats in the air with great attack as he plucks his violin, fading out with the right amount of gentleness in the decay. Similarly, Lol Creme and Kevin Godley’s Consequences avant-garde exercise features layers of buried details that are disappointingly rendered on a lesser deck. But here, the multiple vocal overdubs on “Lulu From Honolulu” scattered between the speakers, with even the most infinitesimal sound effects preserved. The duo’s “The Flood” depicts someone running water and brushing their teeth. While an odd choice for a hi-fi demo, the track’s timbre and spatial information are perfectly captured. It seems as if a person is directly located behind the speakers, brushing their teeth and sloshing mouthwash!

A Music Lovers Turntable

Sound effects are great fun, but rest assured, the Giro does a fantastic job with every kind of music thanks to its natural tonality. Herbie Hancock’s piano on the Blow-Up soundtrack is exquisitely depicted, never lost behind Freddie Hubbard’s trumpet or in the way of Ron Carter’s anchoring bass. The title track on Shelby Lynne’s Just a Little Lovin’ reveals the difference between the Giro and the other two on-hand ‘tables. The Giro lends a bit of extra tonal warmth, where the P9 is slightly more neutral, though lacking the AVID’s additional weight and drama. These are not huge differences by any stretch. Think of the Giro as having more of a classic vacuum-tube-like sound; make your system choices accordingly.

Swapping the Sumiko cartridge (also on the slightly warm side of the tonal spectrum) for the SoundSmith Sussurro Paua (which has a faster, somewhat forward tonal balance) instilled a completely different feel to the overall sound—proof of the tonearm’s ability to resolve fine detail. A series of heavy tracks from Megadeth, Slayer, and Audioslave confirms the Giro can play loud rock music with composure and sans acoustic feedback—important when you crave high decibels. My favorite hip-hop 45s can’t even rattle its composure. Rest assured this Italian stunner is not finicky.

Sitting on the rack between the Rega P9 and the Linn LP-12, the Giro possesses warmth of character. Combining German precision with Italian style is brilliant, and while it doesn’t necessarily make the Giro a better record player, the ‘table’s cool factor will tug the heartstrings of those that demand mechanical performance and style points.

The Unison Research Giro

MSRP: $3,995 (without cartridge) UN1 MM cartridge, $550

http://en.unisonresearch.com (factory)
www.colleencardasimports.com (US Importer)

Peripherals

Preamplifier: ARC REF 5

Phono Preamp: Vitus Audio MP-P201

Cartridges: Sumiko Pearwood II Celebration, SoundSmith Sussurro Paua

Power Amp: ARC REF 150

Speakers: GamuT S9

Cable: Cardas Clear

Accessories: RSA Dmitri and Maxim power line conditioners, Furutech DeMag

Since The Big Come Up first surfaced back in 2002, the group’s music has practically become ubiquitous in popular culture, with songs appearing in an endless stream of films and television commercials—a development singer-guitarist Dan Auerbach and drummer Patrick Carney joked about on an episode of “The Colbert Report,” engaging in a “sell-out-off” with Vampire Weekend frontman Ezra Koenig that ended in a humorous, Warriors-style brawl. More recently, critical success followed. This past year, the duo even netted a trio of Grammys for its 2010 album Brothers.

The record’s success must have been a nice bit of validation for the pair, who spent a chunk of its creation struggling with internal tensions stemming from Auerbach’s decision to release a solo album in 2009 as well as a range of personal issues—including the fallout from Carney’s divorce, which took one final ugly turn when his ex-wife published a lengthy article about the dissolution of their relationship on the popular Web site, Salon, earlier this year. Then there was the duo’s enviable (if risky) decision to go it alone, producing the album themselves rather than re-teaming with Brian “Danger Mouse” Burton, who helmed 2008′s Attack & Release.

If the in-demand producer had any hard feelings about the slight, they’ve clearly long since evaporated. He rejoins the fold for El Camino, a sturdy, riff-heavy effort that simultaneously sharpens and expands on the Keys’ musical palette. Opening song and lead single “Lonely Boy” sets the tone, piling on a thundering drums, a lean and propulsive guitar line, and Auerbach’s damaged-soul vocals. “You pulled my heart out,” he sings, “And I don’t mind bleeding.” Perhaps unsurprisingly, it actually sounds like he minds very much.

It’s a recurrent theme for Auerbach. While happily married with a daughter of his own, the singer, who currently makes his home in Nashville, can’t quite shake his she-done-me-wrong woes, singing: “You took advantage of the one who showed you love”; “Everybody knows that a broken heart is blind”; “All this love of mine/And all my precious time/You waste it cause you don’t know what you want.” Perhaps it’s a vestige of his well-documented blues obsession, which culminated in a teenage pilgrimage to Junior’s Place, the Chulahoma, Mississippi juke joint run by late bluesman Junior Kimbrough—a spur-of-the moment trek that has since become an integral part of the band’s early mythology.

Of course, each successive album finds the pair drifting further from such primal, bash-it-out blues roots. El Camino hits on musical touchstones as varied as T. Rex (the glammy, organ-fueled stomp of “Gold on the Ceiling”), Michael Jackson (the icy, disco strut of “Sister” bears at least a passing resemblance to “Billie Jean”), and the Clash (the reggae-rock bounce of “Hell of a Season”). This idea that the Black Keys are, at least in some sense, burying the past carries over into the artwork for the “Lonely Boy” single—a photograph taken in Akron of a bulldozer stationed on a barren patch of concrete where the factory that housed recording sessions for 2004′s Rubber Factory once stood.

In recent years, the Keys have started taking extra musicians out on the road, fleshing out their live sound with the addition of keyboard and bass. Fittingly, El Camino—as muscular as the roar emitted by its namesake auto’s engine—sounds more like a full-on band effort than the product of two dudes bashing away in a garage. Vintage strains of keyboard weave through much of the album, and a female vocalist adds a soulful punch to several songs, including “Gold on the Ceiling,” an insanely catchy number destined to end up in at least a handful of Hollywood films and network programs.

On Attack & Release, Danger Mouse and the Keys toyed with tempo, recording two versions of “Remember When,” including a folksy, bluegrass-tinged take and a comparatively balls-out rocker. It’s a trick they resuscitate better effect here on “Little Black Submarines,” which opens amidst casual Sunday-morning acoustic picking before jumping into fifth gear, Auerbach laying down a cranky guitar riff that sounds like a heavily distorted take on Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers’ “Mary Jane’s Last Dance” blasted through blown-out speakers.

Clocking in right around 40 minutes, El Camino never risks overstaying its welcome, a point Auerbach seems to hit on with the album-closing “Mind Eraser,” repeating, “Oh, don’t let it be over.” Sure, he’s likely singing about yet another relationship gone to pot—in his mind, the dude must be the emotionally battered Charlie Brown of rock stars—but it’s a safe assumption many listeners will feel similar pangs as the final seconds of this exceptional record tick down. A suggestion? Simply hit play again and crank the volume till the walls rattle.

Now, years later, the vocalist’s poor heart is still pumping away despite his contrary wishes. Witness the album-opening “By Your Hand,” a buoyant indie-pop number on which he invites a lover to take his miserable life, joining his bandmates in a group singalong that could have been choreographed by Glee producer Ryan Murphy. “By your hand is the only end I foresee,” they wail. Elsewhere, Gareth examines the emotional damage left by a rocky relationship on “Life Is a Long Time,” singing, “There’s cartography in every scar” atop jangly guitar and the interwoven vocals of Ellen and the now-departed Harriet Campesinos! Then, on the epic title track that builds to a near-orgasmic crescendo of strings, horns, and chugging guitars, he tries desperately to spackle over the ever-expanding cracks in his busted heart.

While past albums remained relatively merry affairs—the celebratory musical backdrop playing counterpoint to the band’s oft-dour frontman—here, Gareth occasionally drags his mates into the morass. “To Tundra,” a song every bit as chilly and barren as its title suggests, moves as deliberately as an ice floe. The woozy “Hate For the Island” is similarly ethereal, a funeral ode delivered amidst a wash of ghostly guitar. The frontman’s anger (“I’ve a whole lot of hate for the island”) can’t quite overcome the obvious grief brought on by his having lost a lover that now rests beneath six feet of sand. While these moments initially feel like a welcome change of pace, the slower tempos don’t really suit a band that caps its moniker with a well-deserved exclamation point.

Fortunately, the crew bounces back for “Baby I Got The Death Rattle,” a tune that gradually evolves from introspective to celebratory before closing with a full-on group chorus that sounds lifted from an off-Broadway musical. Of course, the song’s title is inspired by a medical term describing the phlegm-y sound produced by someone nearing death, and the lyrics reference headstones and digging one’s own grave. While this might seem morbid coming from some bands, it’s a fitting turn for a group that’s made a career mining joy from life’s endless stream of disappointments.

Power Amplifiers

Preamplifiers

Integrated Amplifiers

Superspeakers

Small Speakers

Speakers

Subwoofers

Analog – Cartridges

Analog – Turntables

Analog – Phono Preamps

Digital

Accessories

Previews

Verity Audio Amadis Speakers

Ortofon Vivo Blue Cartridge

Reviews:

Dali F5 Fazon Loudspeakers
By Jeff Dorgay

Decware Zen Torii Mk.3
By Jeff Dorgay

Simaudio Moon 310P Phono Preamplifier and
320S Power Supply
By Steve Guttenberg

Their new flagship, the Statement 1, replaces the Statement at the top of their product line, and the price has risen from $2,500 to $3,000. While this is a far reach from the budget Grado cartridges that many audiophiles are familiar with, in the day of $15,000 Koetsu’s and the Goldfinger tipping the scale around $12,000, a $3,000 top-of-the-line cartridge is still considered reasonable by many serious vinyl aficionados.

If you are new to the vinyl game and haven’t heard of Grado, or perhaps you only know about them from the world of headphones, meet John Grado, president of the company started by his uncle, Joe Grado, just over 50 years ago. And in case you didn’t know, Joe Grado is acknowledged as the inventor of the stereo moving-coil cartridge. Interestingly enough, Joe Grado was originally a watchmaker by trade, so he was quite familiar with working on a very small scale before he turned his attention to building phono cartridges.

Grado makes one of the widest ranges of phono cartridges available today, starting with the Grado Black for $60 all the way up to the Statement 1 that we’re looking at here. All Grado’s products are handmade in their Brooklyn factory and their wooden cartridge bodies are all made from Jarrah wood, a renewable resource.

First, the past

All cartridges have somewhat of a “signature sound” and the Grados are no different, possessing a slight to moderately warm tonal balance. For those who don’t approve of this reference, you might consider a Grado cartridge to be richer or full-bodied. One thing is certain, you will not mistake vinyl playback with a Grado cartridge for digital. Considering how many records have been poorly mastered, and how many new LP’s are produced from digital files, I personally think a few drops of warmth goes a long way toward making analog more palatable. As you go up the line with Grado wood-body cartridges, they all look the same, but each model progressively reveals more music.

My past experience with the original Statement has always been great, though that model has some limitations. While the original Statement can be too much of a good thing on certain records, it was also slightly limited in its ability to track complex musical passages with the ease that I’ve come to expect from my other cartridges made by Dynavector, Lyra and even Koetsu. The more of an analog maniac you become, the less chance you have of achieving a “one size fits all” solution to playback.

The Statement 1, just like the Statement before it, requires 47k phono loading, but because of the moving-iron design, Grado claims that is it relatively impervious to changes in input capacitance. A brief experiment with the original Statement, combined with the McIntosh C500 preamplifier (which allows capacitance loading to be made from the front panel) and the current cartridge confirm this.

However, because the Statement 1 has an output of only .5mv, you will still need a phono preamplifier or phono stage capable of fairly high gain.

A quantum leap

The new Statement 1 is miles ahead of the cartridge it replaces in two major areas: trackability and frequency extension, particularly at the upper frequency limit. The best news is that the current model has lost none of the midrange magic of the original, but it has gained additional purity and airiness that none of the other cartridges in the Grado line possess. Grado mentions a new special ellipsoid diamond stylus profile and seven feet of gold wire for the coils, so while the new cartridge looks virtually identical to the original Statement, it is essentially new from the ground up.

Fortunately, I had my original Statement here for comparison and after mounting both cartridges on identical SME 309 arms for side-by-side playback on the TW Acustic Raven TWO, it was easy to tell the two apart. I was also able to make some comparisons to the Koetsu Urushi Blue, the Clearaudio DaVinci and the Lyra Skala cartridges – all somewhat in the price range of the Statement 1. While all side-by-side listening comparisons were done with the Audio Research REF Phono 2, now my reference phono preamplifier, I did use the Statement 1 with a handful of other phono preamplifiers as well: the new Audio Research PH6, which is in the middle of review listening, as well as the Burmester 100 and the new AVID Pulsare. All were an excellent match with the Grado.

The Statement 1 did not need terribly long to break in; it sounded great right out of the box. After a few album sides, it loosened up a bit and by the end of a full day’s worth of LP playback, it was in its groove rather nicely. There was no noticeable change between the 50-hour mark and the 300-hour mark, so this is a cartridge that gets down to business right away.

Defining the sound

This is such a different cartridge from the one that it replaces that I wasn’t quite sure where to start the comparisons. One of the first records that I listened to critically was Brand X’s Moroccan Roll. The last track on the first side, “Collapsar,” opens with a driving fretless-bass riff that collides with drums and percussion. This track a relatively dense musical passage cut near the center of the record, has everything going against it. Where the original Statement struggled, the Statement 1 just glides right through effortlessly, keeping everything in the mix as it should be, in its own space. Another favorite inner-groove torture track is “Jericho” from Joni Mitchell’s Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter. Mitchell’s vocal is recorded hot, and lesser cartridges stumble here. Again, the Statement 1 passed through this track effortlessly. When changing musical style to hard rock, the Statement 1 did a flawless job with the 12-inch, 45-rpm single of AC/DC’s “Let’s Get It Up.” Brian Johnson’s voice was out in front of the wall of Marshall amps, with the backing vocals coming through loud and clear instead of getting lost in the mix.

Trackability is an important part of the analog mix, but it’s not everything. When playing the new Statement alongside the old, the increased dynamic capabilities of the new cartridge is much better, in a full-scale sense as well as its ability to reproduce fine detail. No matter what kind of music you favor, you will notice that the Statement 1 has a sufficiently weighty presentation to play your favorite large-scale orchestral pieces as well as capture the most subtle vocal nuances, which is a tough balancing act to pull off.

Finally, this cartridge has a tonality that will woo all but the coldest of hearts. As mentioned at the beginning of the review, the Statement 1 definitely has a full-bodied sound. But thanks to greater extension at both ends of the frequency range, acoustic instruments sound more lifelike than ever. On many levels, the new Statement 1 “out Koetsu’s” my Koetsu Urushi Blue, having all the warmth while adding more definition to the mix.

Listening to the differences between the plucky guitar style of Michael Hedges and Alex DeGrassi on their early Windham Hill releases was a treat, with the resonant qualities of their instruments coming through in a more distinct way than I had heard before. The extra dynamic capability of the new model also did well with piano and violin, again keeping the core tonality intact, with decay that faded ever so gently into the blackness.

Equally important is the huge, three-dimensional soundfield that this cartridge is able to reconstruct in your listening room. Just as the Statement before it was a glorious match with the ARC REF Phono 2, the Statement 1 enlarges the presentation in all dimensions. While we all know that pinpoint imaging in a three-dimensional space is not really an accurate reproduction of music, rock fans will easily become addicted by the way this cartridge really does place things distinctly across the soundstage.

In the end, balance

In summary, the greatest virtue of the Grado Statement 1 is its balance of all aspects of analog reproduction. There are a few (more-expensive) cartridges on the market that will perform any of the individual tasks better, but I challenge you to find a $3,000 cartridge that does this well handling everything. While I am fortunate to have this cartridge in my reference arsenal, if I were going to live with just one phono cartridge, the Grado Statement 1 would be it. Highly suggested.

The Grado Statement 1
MSRP: $3,000
www.gradolabs.com

Peripherals

Phono Preamplifiers ARC REF 2 Phono, ARC PH6 AVID Pulsare, Nagra VPS, Burmester 100, Boulder 1008

Turntables Spiral Groove SG-2 w/Triplanar VII, Rega P9, TW Acustic Raven Two w/SME 309

Preamplifier Burmester 011, McIntosh C500

Power Amplifier Burmester 911 mk. 3, McIntosh MC1.2kw’s

Speakers GamuT S-9, YG Acoustics Anat II Studio, MartinLogan CLX w/Gotham subwoofer

Cable Shunyata Aurora Interconnects, Shunyata Stratos SP Speaker Cable, Cardas Clear Interconnects and Speaker Cable

Power Running Springs Dmitri and Maxim power conditioners Running Springs Mongoose and Shunyata Python CX power cords

Accessories Shunyata Dark Field Cable Elevators, Furutech DeMag, Loricraft PRC-3 record cleaning machine, MoFi Record Cleaning Products.

The album title only hints at the level of coldness and emptiness explored throughout this seven-track, 65-minute set. “Lake Tahoe,” for instance, becomes increasingly gripping as one unravels the story, and it will be downright frightening to animal lovers. At 11 minutes, the song could use some trimming—Bush’s airy piano and choir voices largely frame the tale—yet there’s a dead body, and an aging dog that misses its deceased owner. “Here’s my lap,” Bush sings, channeling the dreams of a hound, “that’s where you lay your head.”

Such an attention to detail is what makes 50 Words for Snow a remarkable albeit potentially difficult listen. Few songwriters, of course, posses the lyrical gift that can put a decomposing body in a lake and, minutes later, wring tears from thoughts of a lonely pet. On 50 Words for Snow, Bush splits the difference between such stark realism and the odder, more otherworldly thoughts that mark much of her 80s-era work.

The metaphor in “Snowflake” seems simple enough, but knowing that a bulk of the vocals are handled by Bush’s young son, Albert McIntosh, adds a layer of bizarreness. The teenager is billed as lead vocalist, and Bush is resigned to the chorus. Without reading the credits, one would think Bush is playing a character. “My broken heart, my fabulous dances,” presumably sings the teenager, turning the no-two-snowflakes-are-alike cliché into a dissertation on fading childhood. Some of Bush’s old lyrical oddness returns on “Wild Man,” which many longtime fans have excitedly noted, represents her revisiting of the abnormal. The song appears to be about a hunted Yeti. But such a diversion into the mystical isn’t nearly as bracing as when Bush touches on very real human emotions. Still, her playfully skittering vocal whisper—and deranged, Cee-Lo-like choirs—ultimately redeems the song.

More interesting, however, are the final two tracks. The title cut does indeed offers 50 words and phrases inspired by snow, with an assist from author/humorist Stephen Fry. But they may as well be 50 words for tragedy and gloominess: “avalanche,” “robber’s veil,” and “bad for trains” among them, all delivered while soulful backing vocalists taunt him on.

The Elton John duet “Snowed in At Wheeler Street,” however, is heartbreak at its most haunting. London smog, the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, and burning Rome are among the images that reverberate around a buzzing, horror-soundtrack keyboard. “Have we been in love forever?” Bush asks, a narrator unsure of herself, her partner, and her feelings toward nostalgia. In such moments, the languid arrangements seem to come to a halt. After all, the answer to such a question is a deeper look into the abyss than anything involving an Abominable Snowman

Granted, this is the first and likely last time Zimmer and Sigur Rós will be mentioned in tandem. Sigur Rós, after all, writes songs that take their time, pieces that continually ebb rather than ever reach a destination. Yet it was Zimmer who took his booming score for Inception and blasted it over the speakers of the Warner Bros. lot. With mics set up around the studio, it was the echoing, dense-with-atmosphere compositions that Zimmer used in the film.

Likewise, Sigur Rós onstage is a slightly different beast than in the studio, as live, the sounds of a bowed guitar feel like communications with a satellite, and accordions and strings are mystical connections to the past. To be sure, the distinctions between recorded Sigur Rós and live Sigur Rós aren’t terribly drastic. But what is pristine and elegant on album has much more buoyancy on Inni, as if this is music made to traverse the night sky. In fact, for those unfamiliar with Sigur Rós, Inni is a rather good place to start. And that’s notable, as most live albums tend to be for-fans-only souvenirs.

Inni is different. Jónsi Birgisson’s falsetto, which sings lyrics in the band’s largely made-up language, is more clearly allowed to drift amidst the classically inspired rock n’ roll orchestrations. Where songs begin and end is sometimes only made known by occasional interruptions of crowd noise. The dream-like constructions are equally abrasiveness and pillow-soft. “Ný batterí,” for instance, begins with crystallizing electronics that seem to be destroying a solar system before soon settling into a mourning lullaby. Meanwhile, “Við spilum endalaust” opens with old-world church sounds and ascends into a glorious guitar-and-cymbal symphony.

This is music that hints at possibilities, and it’s made by a group more interested in explorations than any end goal. The previously unreleased “Lúppulagið” hints at what Sigur Rós still has to offer. Instruments squirm and squeak, moving like some heretofore-unknown alien creatures. Elastic synths and an affectionate piano dot the mix, but it’s the ambiguous life beneath that grabs one’s attention. If not quite a transport to another world, it is the kind of music, perhaps, that should score films. —Todd Martens

Hers is a tone that is equally strong and delicate—a versatile instrument that can grind out a soul cover and minutes later force journalists to use clichéd words like “ethereal,” simply because there’s few other ways to describe a voice than can seem to dance over a harp’s fragile tones. Once television-viewing audiences got wind of this dynamo singer, they responded in kind. After an appearance at the MTV Video Music Awards in the fall of 2010, Welch’s 2009 debut, Lungs, suddenly took off and earned Florence & the Machine a Best New Artist nod at the Grammy Awards.

So it’s a strange, head-scratching thing that Ceremonials opens with a song in “Only If a Night” that goes all of 60 seconds before completely neutralizing Welch’s greatest strength. It starts slow and brooding enough, with a smattering of piano notes, deep bass tones, and dreamy harpsichords. Then comes the church choirs. This in itself wouldn’t be immediately offensive, as Welch is singing of doing handstands in a cemetery, after all. But with the choirs come an anchor’s thud of over-production. Strings? Yep. Giant, hip-hop-like beats? Check? A midtempo piano for Welch to go all Alicia Keys? That’s here, too. This doesn’t appear to be the result of some evil major-label overload now demanding a “hit,” as Ceremonials, like Lungs, is produced by Paul Epworth. Unlike Lungs, however, this record feels more like an exercise in production than an expression of artistry.

OK, fine, that’s one track. Next up is the first single, “Shake It Out.” Sadly, this isn’t a song as so much as a piece of music built for gargantuan set-pieces. One can practically see the close-up on Welch as the veins in her neck quiver. And no doubt she’ll look striking in what will surely be an angelic, glitter-filled costume. Yet, as on “Only If a Night,” Welch is soon joined by what sounds like all of London’s entire cadre of backing vocalists. One may as well pile on the window dressing and create a diversion, however, as all the Queen’s singers and even the most trained philharmonic couldn’t add a sense of drama to nonsense lyrics like “damned if I do and damned if I don’t.” Sigh.

It carries on for 12 tracks, much like this. Sure, there are nice atmospheric touches here and there. The tribal drumming of “Heartlines” promises good things to come, as do the scrapes and clacks of “All This and Heaven To.” Likewise, “Breaking Down,”on which Welch sticks close to some steadily building orchestral strikes. But these are cursory nods to experimentation. Melodies are sacrificed for choruses loud enough to be shouted from the Vatican, and Welch can’t go more than 40 seconds without someone thinking she needs layer upon layer of vocals. Even Welch’s trademark harp is denigrated by the studio gloss. It sounds so heavily processed, it feels ripped from a Radio Disney album.

The great crime here is that Welch has a personality that demands attention. Lungs is an expansive record full of possibilities, with hints of Gothic blues and rock n’ soul fierceness. It has its share of celestial touches as well, but there’s plenty of theatrics to be pulled from songs that grapple with faith. PJ Harvey and Nick Cave, for instance, have catalogs that prove it. It isn’t until the album’s final moments that Welch seems to seize the potential at which her debut hints. “Don’t need a husband, don’t need no wife,” she sings through gritted teeth on the album-closing “Leave My Body.” The verses are striking in their simplicity, and she sounds angry enough that the gospel choir keeps its distance. It’s the rare moment on Ceremonials where the song is placed ahead of the spectacle.

You can be the happy owner of a pair of their ElectroMotion ESL speakers, which we reviewed in issue #37.
You can read the full review here…

The ElectroMotion ESLs continue the trend started by the Aerius, providing big sound in a small footprint, combining the transparency of an ESL panel with a cone woofer, for serious bass.

All you need to do to be eligible for the drawing is to be on our “like” list on Facebook. We will decide the winner on Dec. 12, so you can have the speakers in your listening room by Christmas time. But you have to promise NOT to play the Manneheim Steamroller Christmas Album…

If you aren’t following us on FB, here’s where to go:

Of course we’ll post the happy winner here when the contest ends!

It’s clear from listening to this project, which finds former thrash masters Metallica serving up an array of turgid, by-the-numbers riffs while Reed recites lyrics that read like the rejected Penthouse Forum letters of a creepy sociopath, that no one involved gave pause to consider what exactly it was they were trying to accomplish. How else to explain a song like “The View”—admittedly not among the five or six most egregious efforts here—on which Metallica
singer James Hetfield repeatedly howls “I am the table.”

Elsewhere, the famously pugnacious Reed takes center stage, delivering an assortment of cringe-worthy, spoken-word bon mots in his graveled timbre, rasping: “I swallow your sharpest curdle like a colored man’s dick”; “Spermless like a girl”; “If I waggle my ass like a dark prostitute would you think less of me and my coagulating heart?”

Uhh, right. Can we get back to Hetfield’s philosophical carpentry talk now?

What it lacks in quality, Lulu makes up for in sheer, unforgiving length. Clocking in at nearly 90 minutes, the album runs longer than most feature-length films, and you feel the weight of every second during molasses-slow tracks like the eight-minute-plus “Little Dog.”

Indeed, it’s difficult to think of a more unlistenable musical pairing. Maybe Kurt Cobain and author William S. Burroughs on The “Priest” They Called Him? But even that drug-induced guitar squall/beat-poet collaboration spawned a great quote from the Nirvana frontman. Asked about his playing on the recording, Cobain simply said, “I just masturbated for 20 minutes.” If someone posed the same question to Reed, he’d likely respond with a 40-minute dissertation on human sexuality and German expressionism (the project, after all, is inspired in large part by German expressionist author Frank Wedekind). As far as “super groups” go, Loutallica (or is it Metallica Machine Music?) makes Chickenfoot sound like goddamn Temple of the Dog.

In a small bit of redemption, the album does manage to close on a slightly positive note with the orchestral “Junior Dad,” although I feel saying so is a bit like praising the cup of coffee at the close of a bad meal because the waitress managed to get it to you hot.

When it comes right down to it, it’s not at all surprising that the combination doesn’t work. When the concept was announced—Lou Reed and Metallica collaborate on a batch of songs inspired by a German expressionist—only a small subset of Reed obsessives clutching dog-eared copies of Metal Machine Music and one national magazine held out any hope that this thing would work. What we got is what virtually everyone else expected: A Reed/Metallica Human Centipede as horrifying as that movie’s unholy creation. Now please, god, somebody kill it

While my bias leans towards vacuum-tube gear, the finest Class A solid-state amplifiers (like the recently reviewed Pass Labs XA160.5s) offer equal palpability and don’t require having to regularly forage for tubes. Heat is the only drawback to Class A units. They are power-hungry animals, but wildlife worth feeding.

Vitus gear not only feels powerful, it looks powerful just sitting on the rack. Also available with massive red-, gold-, or black-anodized front panels, our SM-010 review samples were anodized in a stunning shade of dark gray. I’d love to see more manufacturers adopt this trend. Apologies to the Oakland Raiders, but haven’t we had enough silver and black?

Beneath the SM-010’s top panel lurks a masterpiece of modern know-how—a tidy circuit layout revealing clean electrical and mechanical design. Top-grade parts are used throughout. An enormous power transformer, custom designed for Vitus, is a work of art in its own right—and not the usual toroid that exists in most other amplifiers. Individual amplifier boards, connected directly to the circuit boards to keep signal paths as short as possible, are to the left and right of the power supply.
A solitary XLR input, along with the standard IEC power connection and two speaker outputs to facilitate bi-wiring, makes it easy to integrate a pair of SM-101s into any system. These beasts can be used as 100-watt-per-channel amplifiers in Class-AB mode or 40-watts-per-channel amps in Class A mode. With every speaker, save the Magnepan 1.7s, Class A mode yields enough power for all but the most intense listening.

Flick of the Switch

The SM-010s power up in AB mode but can easily be switched into Class A via the remote control or front panel. Yes, my inner Homer Simpson loves any adjustments that can be done from the comfort of a listening chair—it really does make the evaluation process easier. When switched to Class A, the change in the amplifiers’ performance is slightly more than subtle, acting as a tube amplifier does when switching from pentode to triode mode. Unlike all the tube amplifiers I’ve auditioned that offer this function (and make a loud ker-chunk sound when altering modes), the Vitus effortlessly and silently switches between A and AB, making sonic inspections all the more interesting. And while engaging triode mode with a vacuum-tube amplifier usually bestows more midrange lubricity, it comes at the expense of bass control. The SM-010s require no such sacrifice.

Again, like a tube amplifier, the SM-010 needs a solid hour or two for the slight initial haze to dissipate. While not green in practice, if you want to experience the best it has to offer (especially in Class A mode), leave the amps on for a day before you begin critical listening. However, prepare to see a bump in your electric bill the following month!

Listen to This

On “Hear My Train A-Comin’” from Jimi Hendrix’s recent Winterland compilation, the Vitus’ deliver the virtuoso’s distorted guitar in spades and Noel Redding’s bass playing in a way I’ve never experienced. Textures in the latter blend with the distortion, the mix growling as if emanating from the band’s vintage Ampeg amplifiers. Metallica’s so-called “Black Album” offers similar revelations when cranked up. The plucked bass line in “Nothing Else Matters” flaps my pants leg as it does at a Metallica concert. All six of my GamuT woofers work strenuously and, yet, stay controlled. I’ll trade all the string quartets in the world for five minutes of this experience, and the Vitus amplifiers grant my wishes. After a full day of seriously heavy music (that, admittedly, to the disappoint of editor Bob Gendron, did not include any St. Vitus albums), these amplifiers cannot be broken. Moreover, while they got extremely warm, their sonic character did not change.

Big solid-state power normally promises stout bass response, and the SM-010s prove no exception to the rule. Yet these amplifiers’ innate ability to unveil layer after layer of musical performances melts brain cells. If you have speakers as equally revealing as the SM-010s, you’re in for a fatigue-free experience—no matter how high or low the listening level.

Indeed, classical music aficionados will relish the delicacy with which the Vitus’ render string and wind instruments. My GamuT S9s feel like big headphones when I listen to the oboes in the Netherland Wind Ensemble’s Beethoven Wind Music. For me, texture and nuance are the chief characteristics that turn listening sessions into musical events. With the SM-010s in my system, I’m still going to great lengths to listen to records I’ve heard hundreds of times to see if I can mine new aural data.

Great amplifiers also magnify differences between mediocre recordings and standout efforts. Score another victory for the SM-010s. Used extensively in TONEAudio’s Pink Floyd coverage for Issue 40, the Vitus’ exposed subtle nuances between various Dark Side of the Moon pressings as if merely presented with apples and oranges.

Whether in AB or A mode, the SM-010s exhibit dead-quiet backgrounds with zero noise when used in conjunction with the equally silent Vitus preamplifier. When mated with my ARC REF 5 and REF PHONO 2, there’s a slight bit of tube rush—but nothing from the Vitus. This makes for a dynamic presentation, and contributes to the amplifiers always sounding much bigger than you’d expect 40-watt monoblocks to sound. They actually remind me of my favorite amplifiers from the 80s—Mark Levinson ML-2s—but boast healthier depth and detail.

The SM-010s also excel at precise acceleration and deceleration, never blurring transients. Vide, Morris Pert’s lightning-fast percussion runs in “The Poke,” from Brand X’s Masques. The amps’ perfect pace separates the percussion from the rapid-fire drumming, each keeping control of its own space. Such ability to instantaneously start and stop significantly contributes to the SM-010’s non-fatiguing sound.

Other Synergies

Partnered with my reference GamuT S9s, the SM-010s are in many ways the equal of my reference Burmester, Pass Labs, and ARC amps but, nonetheless, retain their own sonic signature. While each amplifier has its own virtues and near-faultless performance, the Vitus amplifiers thrive in their ability to resolve great detail without ever becoming fatiguing—even after full-day listening sessions.

While mixing and matching, I discovered a few synergies to be unmistakably good. For example, the B&W 802 Diamonds are completely different speakers when used in concert with the SM-010s. Normally, the 802 is very revealing and, when married to an amplifier that is either harsh or forward, mirrors the amp’s presentation. With the 802s, the Vitus sounds particularly tube-like in the upper registers, replete with the slam and control you expect from a powerful solid-state amplifier.

Heard through this combination, Keith Jarrett’s Shostakovich: 24 Preludes and Fugues, Op. 87 possesses extra depth and decay, sounding more realistic than I recall—especially on the opening “Prelude & Fugue No. 1 in C Major.” While Shostakovich is traditionally a forceful composer, this piece assumes a wistful delicacy through lesser amplifiers, as Jarrett’s light touch becomes lifeless and flat. The ultimate test? Play the composition at the low volume it demands. The Vitus passes with proverbial flying colors.

B&Ws aside, the oddest albeit most interesting combination I experienced with the SM-010s occurred with the compact Penaudio Cenya speakers. Most people would not mate a $40k pair of amplifiers with a $4,000 pair of speakers, but hey, why not give it a try? The Cenyas sounded supercharged, disappearing in the room as never before, almost as if a subwoofer entered the equation.

Not Just Another Brick in the Audio Wall

Some audiophiles argue that speakers are everything to a system, while others, maintaining the garbage in/garbage out theory, believe the source the most important link in the chain. I feel every part is equally important. But I’ve also seen plenty of astonishing speakers and fantastic source components humbled when lacking proper amplification. Truth be told, I’ve heard modest speakers deliver performances I never thought possible when a standout amplifier drives them. So, at the end of the day, I’m an amplifier guy.

A pair of Vitus SM-010 amplifiers will present no compromise to your system no matter the quality of your other components. These behemoths may even inspire you to make a few improvements once you get used to their abilities. While the price is high, it’s commensurate with the level of build and sound quality. Think of the SM-010s as an ultimate audio destination—desert-island tracks optional.

Vitus Audio SM-101 Monoblocks
MSRP: $40,000/pair
Manufacturer Information: www.vitusaudio.com

Peripherals

Analog Source AVID Acutus Reference SP/SME V/Koetsu Urushi Blue

Phono Preamplifier ARC REF Phono 2

Preamplifier ARC REF 5, Burmester 011, Vitus SP-101

Digital Source dCS Paganini Stack, Sooloos Control 15

Speakers GamuT S9, Verity Amadis, B&W 802 Diamond, Magnepan 1.7

Power Running Springs Dmitri, Maxim PLCs, RSA Mongoose Cords

Cable Shunyata Aurora SP

Accessories SRA Scuttle Equipment rack, SRA Ohio XL equipment bases, Furutech DeMag, Loricraft LR-4 record cleaner

They promised us a few hours on the clock, and out of the box the Audion sounds excellent. With a pair of ECC88 tubes, tube rolling options are plentiful (I’m thinking a pair of EAT tubes), so this will be a fun review. Stay tuned.

Factory link: http://www.audion.co.uk/

US Distributor: http://www.trueaudiophile.com/

A5+ features and upgrades
- built-in power amps
- advance tuned cabinet with rear-ported waveguide
- remote control
- dual RCA and mini-jack inputs
- upgraded connectors
- improved thermal management
- variable preamp line out
- new stand-mount threaded inserts
- user-selectable sleep mode

Pricing and Availability
Audioengine 5+ starts at US$399/pair and is available from over 200 authorized resellers or online direct: audioengineusa.com

Does A5+ sound better than the original A5?
Email to request a sample and find out! Also keep us in mind for any upcoming holiday product giveaways or contests.

If you’ll be in Denver this weekend, please stop by and listen to the A5+ and check out our other new products:

Rocky Mountain Audio Fest (RMAF)
October 14-16, 2011
Marriott Denver Tech Center, Room 438

So, we’ve launched our new Review Index, which we will be updating 8 times per year to help you sort
it all out. Feel free to download it here:

Let us know what you think, and if there is anything we can do to make the data more accessible.

Here’s how to win it:

Go to our Facebook page and click “like.” It can’t get much easier than that, can it? We’ll be watching the likes and will be picking one at random from those of you joining us between now and November 1. We’ll announce the winner November 2. This little jewel is pretty light, so we’ll ship it to you free of charge, no matter where you are in the world. And if you’d like to make your chances better, give us a clever reason why you want it! :)

You can find us on Facebook here:

http://www.facebook.com/TONEPUB2

The invite-only Bowers & Wilkins Sound Sessions are part of the company’s experiential marketing campaign in North America designed to engage with audiences directly by offering fans access to VIP-only, listening events with their favorite artists while experiencing the music through the world-class Bowers & Wilkins speakers, Zeppelin Air iPod docks and P5 headphones. Recent Sound Sessions events were held with, among others, Academy Award-winner, Jeff Bridges, in Los Angeles and rock superstars, Coldplay, in Austin, Texas.

“Our Sound Sessions are designed to showcase our best-in-class performance with some of the finest artists in the world across all genres, and we are privileged that Lou Reed and Metallica have agreed to be part of this series to celebrate their new, collaborative release, Lulu,” said Tyler Fairchild, Director of Strategic Brand Development for Bowers & Wilkins.
As fearless musical pioneers of different generations, the combination of Lou Reed and Metallica was always going to deliver something startlingly different and exciting, on visceral and cerebral levels. These two giants of modern music first came together in October 2009, at the 25th anniversary Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame concerts in New York. Metallica – founding members singer/guitarist James Hetfield and drummer Lars Ulrich plus guitarist Kirk Hammett and bassist Rob Trujillo – played with the hometown hero Reed on Velvets classics “Sweet Jane” and “White Light/White Heat”. Reed pronounced, “We knew from then that we were made for each other.”

“It’s definitely not a Metallica album, or a Lou Reed album”, offers Kirk. “It’s something else. It’s a new animal, a hybrid. Nobody in our world, the heavy metal world, has ever done anything like this.”

“It’s made us a better band. It’s going to freak some people out”, says Rob. “And that’s good.”

“This,” said Lou, “is the best thing I ever did. And I did it with the best group I could possibly find on the planet. By definition, everybody involved was honest. This has come into the world pure. We pushed as far as we possibly could within the realms of reality.”

The Lou Reed/Metallica Sound Session will be held at the Steven Kasher Gallery in New York City on October 24, 2011.

Budget Gear: The NAD C316 BEE
By Jeff Dorgay

Journeyman Audiophile: The BelCanto C5i Integrated/DAC
By Jeff Dorgay

Macro: Six Great Speakers For Your Desktop
By Jeff Dorgay

Old School: The NAD 3020
By Steve Guttenberg

Tone Style

New! The Wino: A Trio of Warm Weather Wines
By Wayne Garcia

The Nike+ GPS Watch

Fiat 500 Sport

SureFit Flashlight
By Kevin Gallucci

Monkees T-shirt

The iGrill

KISS Plushies!