Who needs lyrics? Instrumental bands–and the myriad ways such artists engage in dialogue without vocal support–flourished during the second day of the 2010 ATP Festival in upstate New York. But before all was said and done, two veteran noisemaking groups, Shellac and Sonic Youth, each featuring underground icons, had something to say, literally and figuratively. Here’s an hour-by-hour report. A full summary, with other insights, dozens of photos, and an in-depth take on the gathering’s atmosphere and success, will appear in Issue 32.

The members of Tortoise are pushing buttons, lightly skimming drums and cymbals, and creating what could be a composition designed for playback on a hi-tech calculator. Nothing about the Chicago quintet ever changes, including its disposition, a mix of stoic and serious. Counting producers and engineers amongst its fold, Tortoise approaches jazz-rock fusion with an audio geek’s focused sensibility, the completely instrumental songs alternatively ambient and direct, fading and flowing, squealing and soothing. Jeff Parker picks out the occasional staccato passage on guitar, prompting Douglas McCombs to respond with a thicker bass line. Once a tune finishes its course, Tortoise shifts positions, exchanging seats on the drum kit or manning a second percussive stool, or picking up the mallets and preparing for a turn on the vibraphones. The band’s liquid funk, outré blues, and modulated electronics give off a pastel glow that’s not dissimilar from the purple hues of the overhead lighting. However cerebral and dependable, the experience is best ingested in small doses.

6:16 p.m.: Kim Gordon lounges on a couch in the main lobby. Few fans notice her, though she does take a moment to check her cell phone. She looks as if she’s ready to stroll around the block; nothing about her presence shouts “rock star.” Indeed, one of the biggest appeals of ATP is the sense that everybody–bands, press, fans–are equals. Aside from a small interview staging area, there’s nary a sign of the separation present at other major festivals. No VIP section, no overpriced cabanas, no stages named after a video-game console. Moreover, the laid-back environment and existence of the Criterion cinema further lends to a cozy, unhurried vibe one can’t even get at the Pitchfork Music Festival. The small amount of people is also a huge plus, making access simple, quick, and easy.

7:01 p.m.: Motorifik! Billed as Hallogallo, guitarist/composer Michael Rother and bassist Aaron Mullan converge in an intoxicating conversation with Sonic Youth drummer Steve Shelley. Nearly four decades ago, Rother flipped the conventions of art-rock music on its side with Neu, an influential and pioneering electronic band that bridged his native Germany’s Krautrock heritage with exotic European timbres. Neu’s impact is still felt in the work of U2, Radiohead, Wilco, and others, and while watching Rother calmly operate behind a table packed with gadgets, pedals, plugs, wires, cords, and boxes, and performing Neu material for the first time in 35 years, the importance of his band’s legacy becomes transparent. Rother’s heavily treated guitar sounds as if it is an aural laser that inhales helium gas and exhales a gorgeous array of soothing tonalities.

Seldom staring out at the enraptured crowd, the trio maintains constant eye contact with one another, the direct glances serving as communicative cues for when a groove should be switched into another gear. Shelley is a model of precision, pounding out tom-dominant beats that contrast with Rother’s processed melodies and Mullan’s slumbering bass burble. The steadily building “Hallogallo” stretches toward trance dimensions; “WeiBensee” begins as introspective film music before a heartbeat pulse creeps in and gets washed by soft ride-cymbal crashes, the arrangement doubling as a faint mist. Throughout, Rother’s frequency-shaping tunes exude a hesitant urgency and finessed poise. All the concentration pays off in the form of a tremendous marriage of traditional to modern, the songs distinguished by excellent cornering and obsessive attention to detail. Clearly, a product of German engineering. If circuitry had a human voice and soul, Neu is what it would sound like.

8:24 p.m.: Todd Trainer holds up a portable snare drum in front of guitarist/vocalist Steve Albini’s microphone, the drummer moving around the stage as Shellac begins an epic version of “The End of Radio.” Before the cleverly on-point song concludes, Albini reverently mentions legendary broadcasters Vin Scully, Jimmy Piersall, and Studs Terkel while chastising hate-mongering hacks such as Rush Limbaugh. Albini is in the process of delivering a somewhat impromptu monologue about the history of radio to an imagined alien civilization that sprouts up 10,000 years from now. It’s one part sincere apology and nine parts sarcastic, truthful observation of what the medium has become and how society has let it, and its content, go to waste. As Trainer walks about, flinging drumsticks at ceiling tiles and giving new meaning to “little drummer boy,” the Shellac singer wittily references Jonathan Richman’s “Roadrunner,” Eddie Money’s “Two Tickets to Paradise,” and an annoying Verizon slogan in mocking radio’s commercial excesses, crass promotions, and cliched Top Ten lists. It’s an inspired piece of rock theater, and the song bristles with the combination of seething anger, push-and-shove momentum, tightrope tension, and offbeat humor that infuse pertinent Shellac songs such as “Steady As She Goes.” In just 45 minutes, the Chicago trio verges on stealing the show away from the bigger-name headliners, thanks to immaculate, dry, crisp sonics and unbridled intensity. Albini and seemingly cuddly bassist Bob Weston (each accomplished recording engineers) play through trademark silver amps distinguished by one large knob and audiophile-grade tones. The music swerves and dives, pausing and resuming at unconventional intervals, and erupting with an intentional imbalance of murderous intent and comical relief.

When he’s not doing his best Street Fighter impression, kicking and twisting with guitar in hand, a spiteful Albini grabs the microphone stand as if he’s a bookie shaking down a delinquent gambler. He spits as he barks and shouts lyrics, the effect savage, gnarled, and ferocious. Coated with a metallic sheen, the group’s rhythms and riffs evoke the torque and sound produced when a large screw is forced into a too-small hole on a sheet of reinforced steel. Weston’s instrument gurgles and throbs like a clogged drain, and Trainer brutalizes his drums, hitting with such might that his sticks look as if they’ve been gnawed by a pit bull. It’s ugly, acidic, and caustic–and thoroughly energizing. For the uninitiated, Shellac is revelatory; for repeat listeners, the set is over much too quickly.

9:20 p.m.: Kelley Deal stands on her tippy-tippy toes to sing “I Am Decided” and assumes that posture throughout the Breeders’ disappointing performance. After taking extra time to set up an armada of effects pedals, keyboards, and other related gear, the Breeders treat their slot as a band practice where anything goes. Little about the quintet suggests they’ve given any thought to their material in a while. Neither Kelley nor her more famous twin sister, Kim, prove competent on guitar, and frivolous pop fare like “Bang On,” “Divine Hammer,” and “We’re Gonna Rise” amateurishly drift on by. Several tunes fumble with skeletal arrangements that share more in common with fragments than whole songs. Unconcerned and lackadaisical, Kelley appears oblivious to the band’s hollow state. Only the surf-dipped “Tipp City,” slinky early 90s hit “Cannnonball,” and a country-bluegrass rendition of “Driving on 9,” during which the Breeders are joined by a guest violinist, register any vitality. The rest is goofy, sloppy, unremarkable, and, particularly after Shellac, boring.

10:54 p.m.: The three guitarists in Explosions In the Sky simultaneously plunge their hands against the bodies of their instruments, swiping the strings with gusto while they all lean and jump forward at once. It looks as if the sight could be choreographed, but the display is simply an outpouring of the emotion and conviction that the wordless Austin quartet brings to its hybrid of gentle dream pop, bursting cosmic rock, and intermittent instru-metal heaviness. Seen on the stage floor in the dark, the band’s lengthy arc of flashing effects pedals looks like a miniature version of an airport runway lit up at night. Deploying sustain, delay, distortion, wah, and volume effects, the group’s ambitious compositions are true to the band’s name. Harmonically driven songs conjure images of meteor showers, lightning storms, the aurora borealis, rocket launches, and solar eclipses. Laden with texture and color, individual notes shoot and spark, the trickles of reverb coalescing and forming choruses of sound that glow like stars against a deep-black sky. The members close their eyes for a majority of the concert, losing themselves in dynamic washes of controlled feedback and moody atmospherics. Tempos thrust forward and reverse, melodies flutter, and when crescendos reach an agitated state, the eventual detonations are often cushioned by a comforting softness. Explosions In the Sky revels in the areas found between light, shade, and darkness, and the band’s widescreen sonics allow abrasive passages to seamlessly merge with quieter, wispy sequences. During climaxes, sudden depth-charge booms function as avalanches, knocking over the geometrical shapes that the band so carefully assembles. Imagine a tranquil sea progressively discharging a steady river of water that, once heated and collected, bears down on a compromised dam and leaves nothing in its wake. Extremely impressive, and wonderfully executed.

1:07 a.m.: Sonic Youth attacks the riotous “Death Valley ’69” with a fervent menace that suggests the band is on the run from a desert madman. Lee Ranaldo, Thurston Moore, and Kim Gordon exuberantly shout into the microphone as the psychedelic ramalama boils to a fever pitch, drummer Steve Shelley pounding out a circular romp on the drum kit as a sign that the group needs to round up the wagons. Playing with vicious energy and rampant urgency, the iconic New York art-rock quartet appears to be in an especially blustery state of mind. What’s immediately obvious is how far the band has come as accomplished musicians. The older, wiser Sonic Youth not only possesses the enviable disposition, freak-out experimentalism, and cool factor of the ensemble’s early days, it also has the effortless capacity to spin thickets of imaginative noise and patchwork quilts of combustive rhythms into discernible songs. Gordon pounces with dont-mess-with-me feminist attitude on “The Sprawl.” “Cross the Border” turns wild in a hurry, Moore sensing the excitement and jumping with childlike glee as the tune dangerously races around the bend, its manic thrash pace inspiring an active mosh pit. “Catholic Block” leaves its mark like a graffiti tagger does on a subway car. Similarly, the rush of New York’s bustling downtown– the cabs, horns, trains, pedestrians, vendors–can be heard on the sensory-blurring “Stereo Sanctity.” The band carves out plenty of space for adventurism, with “Eric’s Trip” finding Moore assailing a modulated, hollowed-out bass and “Hey Joni” whirring to groundswells of corrosive feedback. Hot-rodded guitars cough, wheeze, burp, and gurgle. Pieces of wood double as makeshift bows that are dragged across frets and necks. Alternate tunings bring forth unexpected shifts and twists. Sonic Youth handles and shapes the seemingly discordant mix like aural putty, undaunted by the possibilities and renewed by the potential of what’s to come. What a homecoming.

The Scientists fizzled, Mudhoney wailed, Iggy Pop and the Stooges sheared heads, and Sleep deadened eardrums. Attracting a mix of youthful hipsters and older rock fans to New York’s rural Catskill Mountains region, the first day of 2010’s All Tomorrows Parties Festival is in the books.

Having started Friday with four bands each respectively performing one classic album onstage, the three-day gathering in upstate New York is inarguably the most intimate of the major music fests. No corporate signage exists, security consists of stagehands, attendance is capped at fewer than 3,000 people, and a majority of concertgoers remain onsite at Kutshers dilapidated hotel, a surreal setting that conjures unmistakable visions of “The Shining” and “Friday the 13th.” More on the fest’s atmosphere, vibe, music, and logistics will appear in the print version of this report in Tone 32. For now, here’s an hour-by-hour wrap-up.

6:06 p.m.: Fans ring a swampy pond situated on the hotel’s grounds. Sitting, smoking, and drinking, the sight is akin to a camping trip that doesn’t involve any outdoor activities other than playing cards and comparing notes on favorite bands. Judging from the relaxed vibe, one would never be able to guess that a rock festival was taking place. Yet there’s also something very creepy about the scene, no doubt produced by Kutshers backdrop of peeling paint, filthy windows, moldy smells, mildewed carpet, and the sense that, save for ATP, this place remains closed for the majority of the year. There’s no better location for filming a slasher film.

7:17 p.m.: Tony Thewlis picks up a whiskey bottle and uses it as an impromptu slide for his guitar—as well as a blunt object that he smacks against the body of his instrument. The Scientists are performing their first-ever U.S. show, and as an acknowledged influence on many of Sub Pop’s early bands as well as New York’s downtown scene, expectations and curiosity levels create a buzz throughout the audience. Yet the Australian post-punk quartet fails to deliver. Devoid of personality and primarily flat, the band ignores the crowd and clings to a volley of monotonous beats. Frontman Kim Salmon occasionally shakes the microphone stand and chokes up on his vocals, coming across like a back-alley predator sniping at innocent passersby. Steeped in rustling reverb, tough swamp-country tones, and barbed-wire rolls of slash-and-burn guitar notes, the Scientists generate a downward spiral of cacophony that yields a rumbling grind but feels entirely one-dimensional. Without a word, the group allows Blood Red River to take its course, and while its impact on musicians such as Jon Spencer is clear, the lack of elasticity and purpose convey that the States could’ve waited another 30 years for the Scientists’ debut.

7:58 p.m.: Steve Turner isn’t even a minute into “Chain That Door” and he’s already busted a guitar string. No matter. Perfection doesn’t belong anywhere near Mudhoney’s joyous spree of ramshackle garage rock, swiveling rhythms, or gutbucket blues in reverse. Turner and fellow guitarist Mark Arm give everyone ample opportunity to dance, and it would’ve been nice if somebody would have thought ahead and brought a few lampshades to the party. Every song from the band’s landmark 1990 Superfuzz Bigmuff Plus Early Singles sounds as vibrant as it did two decades ago. “Sweet Young Thing Ain’t Sweet No More” moans, groans, and growls as Arm spouts off about a girl in transition from being a wide-eyed child to a realistic teen, with the consequences of liquor, drugs, and late-night soirees greeting her as she leans over a toilet bowl. “Touch Me I’m Sick” rages with insistence and festers like an itchy scab that doesn’t quit bleeding once it’s picked. Turner’s slide playing and flanged notes contribute to the zany shimmy on uptempo fare and spray beer-soaked grime onto slower material such as “Mudride,” which finishes in a heap of feverish noise thanks to wah-wah pedal effects that function as the blasts from a sci-fi ray gun.

The provocative “Halloween” injects filthy sludge by way of syringe before Arm, preparing for his close-up, deftly moves out of the way of an out-of-control crowd surfer that nearly kicks him in the face. The band plays on as if it’s an everyday occurrence. “In and Out of Grace” captures Mudhoney’s knack for driving melodies, the song wrestling with itself until it gives way to a brief Dan Peters drum break that’s straight out of a classic surf song. Arm no longer yelps as loudly as he once did, but there’s nothing wrong with his attitude or wail—or their ability to convey frustration, desperation, and dissatisfaction with a knowing wink. Witty humor underlines nearly every tune, with “You Got It (Keep It Out of My Face)” emphatic albeit slackjawed and “If I Think” jeering at the leftover residue from an emotional breakup. Nothing that another drink won’t solve. Point taken.

9:20 p.m.: Iggy Pop lands onstage as if he’s just been shot out of a cannon. James Williamson batters his guitar, Mike Watt throttles the bass, and the Stooges charge into Raw Power with manic delight. At 63, the animated Pop seems more animal than human, his sinewy body riddled with grainy lines that resemble those found on a cut of flank steak. He sways his hips, punches imaginary foes, and enthusiastically dives at the feet of his mates, getting right up in the faces of the fans in the front rows that egg him on to escalate his wild antics. Pop responds by writhing and flailing, throwing microphone stands, pushing speaker monitors into the P.A. system (an action that causes nervousness amongst the stagehands attempting to re-steady the speakers), jumping into the crowd, and yelling for his band to keep up. Watt, Williamson, and company are more than up to task. From a crouched stance, Watt watches the entire spectacle with a sense of invested intensity, much like an overzealous football coach barking at his team to annihilate the opponent. Williamson is all business, manhandling his guitar and reeling off searing solos that further spike Pop’s adrenaline. Steve MacKay remains off to the side, yet his blaring saxophone fuels the music’s free-jazz irreverence. “Search and Destroy,” “Your Pretty Face Is Going to Hell,” and “Penetration” are pure unadulterated kicks to the stomach and uppercuts to the head. The explosions of unfettered volume, storming violence, and pummeling riffs are as inspiring as they are threatening. “Gimme Danger” bristles with deadly sensuality, a characteristic epitomized by Pop’s physical movements and primal shrieks. He invites “freaks” and “spazzers” up onstage for a chaotic “Shake Appeal,” yet this communal showing is topped by “I Got a Right,” during which the iconic singer shouts “Do you feel it?” and demands an answer. Anyone within the premises that doesn’t feel the passionate fury that the Stooges are throwing down isn’t alive.

A harsh, demanding “I Wanna Be Your Dog” finds Pop wrapping the microphone cord around his neck while his cohorts turn the pounding music into an all-out blitzkrieg. The sonic torrent pushes the personalized “Open Up and Bleed” to the limits until everything threatens to collapse. Lights go up but the Stooges aren’t done. “Funhouse” swaggers with big-band R&B inertia and the closing “No Fun” wallops the senses, hitting hard and aggressively before sending Pop off with a huge smile after he takes one last tumble over the hands of a sweaty crowd that’s eager to give him his much-deserved victory lap. The bar for the remainder of the weekend is set extremely high. Will ATP 2010 be like Pitchfork 2009, when the Jesus Lizard performed on the first night and rendered the rest of the festival light by comparison? Bet on it.

11:21 p.m.: How does a band follow the Stooges? If you’re Matt Pike, you slow down the pace, up the decibel level, and utilize volume as a mesmerizing narcotic. Far removed from both the style and presence of the Stooges, Sleep captivates with almost unimaginable amounts of heaviness. The reunited stoner metal trio’s foundation-shaking riffs and bowel-moving low-end thunder literally move the air in the room to the extent that anyone within the premises can feel the hairs on their arm moving from the vibrations. Dry ice fog and dense lighting shroud the band, whose psychedelic doom renders any vocals inaudible. This is all about the art of the drone and the dirge, and the committed virtuosity of the heavily tattooed guitar god Pike, who, with one swipe of his hand, unleashes a distorted chord that seems to hover for days. While playing Holy Mountain, Sleep treads as if scaling a glacier, taking its time, refusing to go fast, and steadily climbing up its way to the top. All that seems to be missing is the gong. Distinguished by titanic grooves, tectonic tension, and perception-changing feedback, the down-tuned thunder of overdriven sonic mulch such as “The Druid” and “Inside the Sun” appear to unfold in slow motion, coming into existence much like a fissure spits out lava on the ocean floor, whereby the presence of water distorts the rapidity at which the liquid is actually being released. Indeed, Sleep is playing in real time, and it’s this altered sense of reality that makes the group’s brand of sonic hypnotism and monolithic heaviness all the more impressive. Positively transfixing—and quite possibly the loudest show you’ll ever experience.

By Jeff Dorgay

If you’ve been reading TONEAudio for the last couple of years, you know I’m a big fan of the battery-powered gear from Red Wine Audio, built by Vinnie Rossi and his team. I’ve used their Signature 30.2 power amplifiers and their Isabella tube preamplifier with excellent results. The key to a large part of these components success is the fact that they are powered “off-the-grid” from high-current, sealed lead-acid (SLA) batteries, and Red Wine Audio has made the them effortless to use thanks to their SMART charging system.

The great thing about SLA batteries is that they have very low impedance (very high output current capability) and relatively flat discharge characteristics. The benefit to you is that the sound does not change as the batteries begin to discharge, and dynamics are maximized. I’ve used a number of battery-powered components, and the ones that rely on normal alkaline batteries (the Sutherland PH3D and Chord preamps come to mind) change their sound dramatically over the charge period and don’t have the low output impedance. The result is a sound you can’t really get used to.

SLA batteries are much better in this application, but they do require a certain amount of care to keep them performing at their peak, but who’s got time for that? What Red Wine Audio has done with their new SMART (SLA battery Monitoring and Auto Recharge circuit) board is to make the battery process a “no fuss, no muss” affair. Everything works in the background, so you only need to concentrate on the music. When the battery voltage discharges down to a set level (which is continuously monitored via the SMART board), the SMART circuit automatically turns OFF the unit and begins the recharge process for you. In addition to being very convenient, it maximizes battery life by avoiding accidentally deep-discharging the SLA batteries.

There are three other very important features worth mentioning about the Black Lightning: First, when you are using battery operation, the charging circuit is completely disengaged from the batteries, so there is no chance of noise leaking into the power supply. The battery charger itself is a separate unit that plugs into the Black Lighting for total isolation.

Second, the Black Lightning has 0.5 second in-rush current limiting avoid the high current in-rush that you don’t typically see with conventional AC power adapters because they cannot supply nearly the same level of output current. According to Vinnie, it’s actually better to leave your component switched on all the time and use the power switch on the Black Lightning as your power switch, thus always allowing “soft starts” of your audio component – which prolongs the life of their internal components.

Third, and possibly most important, I have to believe that while a good portion of the Black Lightning’s improvement comes from removing your audio component from the grid, it also eliminates one or more switching power supplies from proximity to your system. Anything in your HiFi system that uses a “wall wart” power supply is a noise bandit, dumping a healthy amount of RFI back into your power line and associated components. Even with world-class power line conditioning, I noticed a slight decrease in background noise with my other components, having eliminated the two switching power supplies from my system.

Red Wine brings this technology to the rest of us

As cool as the idea of getting off the grid is, for most power amplifiers, it’s not practical because of the high voltage requirements. But for preamplifiers, phonostages, dacs, and other low-level components that accept DC input voltages from AC wall adapters, Black Lightning will elevate the performance of your components to a whole new level. The minute you leave the grid, you’re leaving any AC-related noise and distortion components behind completely.

Earlier this summer, Vinnie and I were discussing exactly this and I asked him if he could build an upgraded 12Vdc power supply for my Nagra VPS phono preamplifier. I’d like to think I had a small hand in the process and in November, the Black Lightning was born. There are two models to choose from, the Series 10 and the Series 12. The main differences between them are the available output voltages and their current capacity (measured in Amp-Hours), which translates into the ability to power a component that draws more current for a longer period of time.

You can read the full list of configurable options here:

http://www.redwineaudio.com/products/black-lightning

The Series 10 starts at $625 and the Series 12 starts at $825. When you think about it, that’s just about what a good power cord would set you back. Hmmm. My review centers around three components that I felt would respond very well to being removed from the grid and that accepted a 12Vdc input (which I had Red Wine Audio configure a Series 10 unit for me); the Nagra VPS phono stage, the Nagra LB portable digital recorder and the Wadia 170i iPod dock.

Across the board gains

The $9,000 Nagra VPS/VFS phono stage has been my reference for over a year now and is a hybrid tube/solid state design. I’ve been very satisfied with the VPS/VFS, but it’s always had the slightest bit of background noise and hum that I’ve just chalked up to life with tubes.

Immediately after plugging the Black Lightning in, all of the noise was gone, even when sticking my ear right up to the tweeter. The Black Lightning redefines the term “inky black background.” The big surprise was when I set the stylus down on the first record, Neil Young’s Live at Massey Hall. (200g. Classic Records version) We gave this record one of our product of the year awards in the audiophile recordings category. If you have this record, you know how big the soundstage is, but adding the Black Lightning just blew the boundaries out of my room. The Nagra’s already excellent dynamics went up a few solid notches. It just wasn’t the same preamplifier anymore. Everything I loved remained, but now it was super sized!

I am a big believer in clean power, and the validity of good power cords, but I’ve never had this much improvement from any power cord or line conditioner. I currently use the Running Springs Dmitri line conditioner on the front end of my system (and a Running Springs Maxim on a separate 20 amp line for my power amplifier) and I feel this product is the top of the mountain in power line conditioning products. I would compare the difference plugging the Nagra into the Black Lightning to be an equivalent jump in performance I experienced when I plugged the rest of my system into the Dmitri from the wall. Background noise decreased dramatically, dynamics increased substantially and the upper registers got smoother, yet more defined.

The more records I played with the new “upgraded” Nagra, the more impressed I was with the contribution of the Black Lightning supply. The effect was all positive and not the least bit negative. The bass drive had increased substantially, as if I had added a subwoofer to the system!

As much fun as the additional bass grunt was, this already detailed phono preamplifier was considerably better with microdynamics than before. No matter what kind of music I was listening to, I was always able to hear further into the recordings than I could before, thanks to the lower noise floor. This also gave my system the added benefit of sounding “louder” even at low volumes because the effective dynamic range was increased.

I’d also like to mention that when Vinnie and I were discussing playback times as he was developing the Black Lightning, I was expecting about 4 hours worth of playback time with the Nagra VPS (based on its power consumption rating) and I’m getting about 8 hours consistently. Very impressive!

Benefits with other devices as well

I had similar results with the Wadia iTransport dock, and this was very easy to discern using the Wadia 781i as my DAC. Everything was decidedly “less digital” sounding and the gap between .wav files on my iPod and the CD played on the Wadia closed further.

When using the Black Lightning with my Nagra LB digital recorder that is already battery powered by AA batteries, the main difference when using the Black Lightning SLA battery supply was slightly increased dynamics, better resolution during lower level passages and much longer record time. The LB will eat up eight AA cells in pretty short order, and with the Black Lightning I was able to record all day long without stopping to recharge. Again, the added benefit here with a Black Lightning is that you aren’t tossing a pile of Duracell’s (that contain mercury) in to the wastebasket on a regular basis. Better sound and better for the environment.

A product that truly exceeds expectations

In the world of high-end audio, there are a lot of snake oil vendors and precious little science and engineering, with every new widget promising nirvana where none previously existed. Red Wine Audio’s Black Lightning power supply is well-built, with solid engineering behind it and does a fantastic job at its designated task. You can’t ask any more from a component!

If you have something in your system that uses a switched mode/wall wart power supply and feeds a DC output voltage to your component, the sonic benefits you will receive from the Black Lightning will be instantly apparent. It has certainly made a welcome addition to my reference system. Give Vinnie a call to see if he has one that will suit your needs.

The Red Wine Audio Black Lightning, $650 – (approx.) $1,000 depending on size and configuration.

www.redwineaudio.com

I’ve always been a fan of Pathos Acoustics fusion of Italian style with technology, while always yielding very musical results.

The Classic is the perfect integrated amplifier for someone wanting to integrate a compact, yet high performance music system into a design conscious environment. It is very reasonably priced at $2,995.

The ClassicOne mk. III has been part of the Pathos product lineup for some time now and is a solid seller, packing 70 watts per channel onto a very compact chassis that only measures 8” x 14” x 5” (90 x 100x90mm). Though there are five inputs on the rear panel, input one can be either balanced XLR or RCA, with the other three being RCA. There is also a fixed level RCA output to use for recording. I would love to see a variable level output for a subwoofer substituted here. I think this would be highly useful, as often times when a system has to be designed around the decor, a subwoofer/sattelite setup is called into play. Perhaps in the mk. IV?

Major Style Points

From the minute you take the ClassicOne out of the box, the attention to detail is apparent. The front panel is polished aluminum and sculpted wood, with a tiny power switch to the right and an LED display to the left, working double duty as a volume indicator and input selector. The transformer case is polished to a high gloss while the black plexiglass chassis top has a matte finish, something I felt was a nice touch, as it will not show fingerprints as readily as a gloss black surface. The very svelte remote control is made from solid wood and has four small buttons to control inputs, muting and volume.

No attention to detail has been spared on the ClassicOne. The allen head bolts on the top of the chassis are chrome plated along with the control knobs and the small tube cages guarding the pair of 6922 tubes in the preamplifier section. This is definitely a work of art that will get plenty of attention in your listening environment.

A true integrated

Unlike many amplifiers at this price point, the ClassicOne has a separate pre and power amplifier stage. Taking this approach is more costly to the manufacturer, but it does offer more linear volume control action as well as a stable input impedance. Many so called integrated amplifiers with a passive volume control tacked on the front of a power amplifier can be very source dependent, sometimes sacrificing dynamics or rolling off the high end somewhat. I had no problems using the ClassicOne with any of my reference components.

The output stage of the power amplifier is class AB solid state, with high bias current. This uses a few more watts of power, but results in a smoother sound throughout the range, with excellent bass control.

The System

Keeping with the design concept of the ClassicOne, most of my listening was done in the living room system, however to get a good feel for the performance envelope of the amplifier, I started out in the studio, using the GamuT S-7’s, Harbeth Monitor 40.1’s and MartinLogan Spires. Mating a $3,500 amplifier with considerably more expensive speakers is somewhat overkill, but it reveals the limits of the amplifier much easier.

Even as the heart of a $100,000 system, the ClassicOne did an excellent job. I also made it a point to compare it to a couple of my other favorite amplifiers in the three to ten thousand dollar range to see how it stacked up against its peers. Needless to say, I came away very impressed. Should you live with the ClassicOne for a while and decide you have to have more power, the ClassicOne can be bridged and used in mono mode, giving you a pair of very compact 150-watt amplifiers.

We managed to get a second ClassicOne for a brief period and the results were excellent. I’m not sure if I would build a system like this from the ground up, probably choosing one of Pathos larger power amplifiers instead, but the flexibility is a great idea.

Once a baseline feel for the ClassicOne’s performance was established, I moved it back to the living room system, with the highly efficient Zu Audio Presence speakers. This was a great match, because the Zu speakers high sensitivity gave the ClassicOne almost unlimited headroom.

The system was rounded out with the BelCanto CD1, which has a similar form factor to the ClassicOne, though I’m sure if you were starting from scratch, you’d probably want to go with the Pathos Digit CD player – it matches the aesthetics of the ClassicOne perfectly.

Shunyata Venom cables and their VRay power conditioner took care of the power duties with Empirical Design 422 interconnects and 213 speaker cables made up the rest of the system. All told, I had assembled an extremely satisfying system for just over $10,000.

The Sound

The hybrid concept of the ClassicOne succeeds brilliantly, truly combining the benefits of both technologies. The overall tonal balance is slightly warm, yet it has the grip of a good solid-state amplifier. When listening to “The Barbarian” on Keith Emerson’s current album, the tiny Pathos amplifier took hold of the GamuT’s woofers and shook the room accordingly, with the low synth bass notes on “Ignition.”

Thanks to the ClassicOne’s rich sound, the female vocal lovers in the audience will be extremely happy. Those of you that live on a steady diet of this kind of music will love the way this amplifier gives solo vocalists a larger than life presentation. Spinning Jacqui Naylor’s Live at the Plush Room, 2001 put her center stage, about six feet in front of the equipment rack. It’s worth noting here that the ClassicOne makes an outstanding combination with the Focal Utopia Diablos that we reviewed last issue. The warmth of the Pathos with the high resolution of the Diablos convinced many visitors to my home that they were listening to a much more expensive system.

Those two tubes give this amplifier something special, offering a slightly lush, airy presentation that I think will bring out the best in source components that are similarly priced. It’s also worth noting that the ClassicOne offers one balanced input, so this will give you a lot more flexibility when choosing source components. Many of today’s newer DAC’s have balanced outputs, so this is handy, if you want to put the Pathos amp front and center, yet have your DAC and perhaps a music server elsewhere in your listening room.

The ClassicOne’s slightly forgiving nature was also a huge blessing when streaming audio from the Internet, or using the iPod as a source. The 320kb/sec feed from the Zune Pass on our living room’s HP Touch Smart music server sounded the best I’ve ever heard from a low-resolution source.

When we stepped up the game a bit and played some high res files from the Naim Label, and the B&W Music club through the Wadia 521 DAC, the ClassicOne had the necessary resolution to showcase the format.

On all but the most inefficient speakers, I had to press the ClassicOne way beyond reasonable levels to drive it to clipping (and again, you can add the second amp if you have to play that loud), even with the Harbeth 40.1’s which have a low sensitivity of 86db.

Conclusion

Overall the Pathos ClassicOne mk.III is one of those rare components that achieves a perfect balance of performance, style and value. Thanks to the small tube compliment, you will not have to worry about sourcing tubes, either. The 6922 and it’s variants are very plentiful at reasonable cost, and I don’t imagine the ClassicOne going through tubes in a hurry, so probably a new pair every five years or so should keep you running along just fine.

Whether you are a mega audiophile putting together a second system, or a music lover that doesn’t want to sacrifice aesthetics for performance, this amplifier will keep both sides of your brain very happy.

UPDATE: 10/2019

Kevin Deal from Upscale Audio/Upscale Distribution has taken over as the new North American distributor for Pathos products, and we are excited so see a true qualityphile and tube guy distributing this fine product. Here’s Kevin’s quick take on having the line:

“I have always loved Pathos. In Europe, Pathos enjoys an incredible reputation for both sound and build quality, and they are very popular. Their previous U.S. importers  were not deeply technical. They sold it as being beautiful, which it is, but the real beauty is on inside. Everything is made in-house in Vicenza Italy. Even the remotes are machined at the factory. They make the best hybrids on the market. They have real chops, and we are super excited.”

The Pathos ClassicOne Mk. III

MSRP: $3,195

North American Distributor

Upscale Audio/Upscale Distribution
2058 Wright Avenue
La Verne, California
909-931-9686

upscaleaudio.com

Peripherals

Digital Sources BelCanto CD3, Wadia 521 DAC, Luxman DU 7i combination player

Speakers Harbeth Monitor 40.1, Gamut S-7, Focal Utopia Diablo, Zu Audio Essence

Cable ED Design 213 and 422 (speaker and interconnect)

Power Shunyata VRay power conditioner, Shunyata Venom power cords

Never say never. Technically, Trent Reznor hasn’t uttered that loaded “n” word, but the Nine Inch Nails leader has repetitively claimed that he is waving goodbye to future touring. Fortunately, for select fans in New York, Chicago, Toronto, and Los Angeles, the vocalist already changed his mind by choosing in late July to wrap up what he’s deeming the band’s final tour with a series of intimate shows and anything-goes sets. Only time will tell whether Nine Inch Nails take the stage again. Yet even if they don’t return, the band’s second concert of its two-night stand at Chicago’s Aragon Ballroom offered plenty to savor.

Over the course of 140 minutes, Reznor and Co. supplied everything a concert of such magnitude should: Deep cuts (“Ruiner,” “Right Where It Belongs v2.0”), inspired covers (Gary Numan’s “Metal,” Joy Division’s “Dead Souls”), surprise guests (Bauhaus legend Peter Murphy, making his third consecutive onstage appearance with the group), a healthy dose of favorites (“March of the Pigs,” “Wish,” “Gave Up”), and a pervading sense of atmosphere. And of course, energy to spare. If not for an 11 p.m. curfew, it seemed as the quartet would’ve continued playing late into the night. Part of that is due to an earned chemistry.

Nine Inch Nails’ current configuration—Robin Finck on guitar, Ilan Rubin on drums/keyboards, Justin Meldal-Johnsen on bass, Reznor on guitar/keyboards/vocals—has grown more assured since its early summer tour. Rubin, for example, didn’t blink when Reznor, showcasing a carefree enthusiasm that permeated the performance, fell into his drum set in the middle of “Piggy,” causing stage hands to scramble and reassemble the pieces as the song continued its downward spiral. Together, the quartet balanced taut control with flights of reckless abandon, with Finck and Reznor exchanging feverish distortion on a truly searing “Burn” and channeling palpable menace on a massive-sounding cover of Pere Ubu’s “Final Solution”—a tune further pushed to dramatic extremes by the leather-clad Murphy who, despite his 52 years and somewhat humorous resemblance to Neil Diamond, remains a master showman capable of shaking his hips and shimmying his shoulders with the conviction of a young clubgoer. As far as influences on Nine Inch Nails’ oeuvre, Reznor couldn’t have chosen a more apt guest.

Not that the band needed much help. Rather than strictly focus on its aggressive material—a move that undoubtedly would’ve pleased the moshing faithful—Nine Inch Nails created aural mise en scene via use of dynamic contrasts and material that drew from every facet of its career. And so, the paranoid electronic gristle of “I’m Afraid of Americans” shared space with the robotic soul of “Metal,” and the violent sonic throb behind “Mr. Self Destruct”—itself bridged by a foreboding albeit soft break—conjoined the massive doom and gloom evoked by the slithering “Reptile.” Realizing the gig’s import, Reznor attacked the microphone as a bloodthirsty shark would a floating piece of meat, his jaws chomping at words on “Survivalism” with a rhythm that paralleled the blinding flashes of the strobe lights.

Yet the quartet also found momentary serenity in a series of mellow, classically oriented pieces. Colored by the shadows and bathed with darkness, “La Mer” and “The Frail” functioned as textured mood setters, each leading up to the amelodic withdrawal “I Do Not Want This,” on which Reznor beat piano notes until they resembled the striking of a steel anvil. But then it was momentarily back to a quieter realm, with stand-up acoustic basses and twilight synthesizers affording penetrating self-reflection that underscored themes of isolation, displacement, and dread. Such minimalism doubled as a cocoon out of which Nine Inch Nails emerged anything but unscathed, the restrained tones serving to magnify the impact and intensity of the ferocious volleys that followed.

“Nothing can stop me now” hissed Reznor on “Ruiner,” his declaration ringing true in a manner that, given the band’s passion and the frontman’s history of reversing previous decisions, makes it difficult to believe that years down the line, they won’t be back for another round. And not soon enough.

Setlist:

Home
The Beginning Of The End
Survivalism
Heresy
March Of The Pigs
Piggy
Metal (Gary Numan cover)
Ruiner
I’m Afraid Of Americans
Burn
Gave Up
La Mer
The Frail
I Do Not Want This
Gone, Still
Right Where It Belongs v2.0
The Way Out Is Through
Wish
Mr. Self Destruct
Suck
Echoplex
The Good Soldier
Dead Souls (Joy Division cover)
Reptile (with Peter Murphy)
Strange Kind Of Love / Bela Lugosi’s Dead (Bauhaus covers with Peter Murphy)
Final Solution (Pere Ubu cover with Peter Murphy)

Encore 1:The Hand That Feeds
Head Like A Hole

Encore 2: Hurt

If you are a big Bob Dylan fan and would like a great news feed, check out www.expectingrain.com

This shoud keep you busy for a little while!

Well almost.

After a few days of wiring and moving a few things around, the Sooloos is completely hardwired into my music room.  The pair of Store 2’s that hold 2TB each, are neatly tucked away in the record and CD room with plenty of ventilation.  Most of all, when you close the door, the whole thing is SILENT…

The Sooloos Control 5 now feeds to my main system via the digital input of the outstanding Wadia 781i SE (review forthcoming) and to our art directors desktop system via line level outputs on zone 2 and my desktop system via zone 3.  The Sooloos can run all three zones simultaneously and thanks to their Control PC software can be accessed from either of our Mac’s via Parallels on the desktop or via iPhone to cover basic start, stop and pause functionality.

This is the most fun you can have with music with your pants on. 6500 CD’s right next to the listening chair with room for about 3500 more!

If you are not familiar with the Sooloos, you can read our full review in issue 11.  Watch for our long term test report on the web soon.  If you sign up for our mailing list, you will be the first to hear about it….

While only 30wpc, the Aries is single-ended and “each one of those watts counts.” This Class A, zero-feedback design uses an 845 tube from RCA/Cunningham to produce a sound that is “pure, lifelike and quite rich and meaty.” We feel that the Aries 845-G is the perfect compromise for someone who likes the sound of SETs but needs a little more power.