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Focal Spirit One Mobile Headphones Sweepstakes
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For complete sweepstakes rules, click here.
Source : stereophile[dot]com
Payday Albums: 6/28/13
I’ll tell you, though, I’ve been reading a lot of John McPhee, largely because he can write powerfully and compellingly about anything, partly because he’s from New Jersey, and partly for other reasons. There’s just something in me that wants to be close to him now. You can probably hear McPhee’s tone in my writing, if you read carefully enough, because I’m not so good a writer to have my own distinct voice. Rather, I assume the voices of those authors I read. I don’t think this is too terrible a thing, so long as I read good writers.
I’ve also been reading a lot of Nick Hornby. His column for The Believer, “Stuff I’ve Been Reading,” is hugely inspirational, and I find many parallels not only between Hornby’s relationship with reading and my relationship with listening, but also between Hornby’s view of the literary world and my view of the audiophile world. To again spare myself a stoning, I’ll give you no examples.
During my recent reading craze, I’ve noticed that a certain faction of the literary world seems intent upon rehashing the old Death of the Novel topic. This strange matter, like The Death of Hi-Fi or The Death of Rock’n’Roll, is exhumed every 30 to 50 years or so. Some, who see the novel as a dying art, call for something “new”—something that mirrors our modern lifestyle. Whatever that is. I suppose it would have something to do with the Internet. The “new” novel should probably have pictures, interactive videos, chapters limited to 140 characters, and text that scrolls from right to left, punctuated with emoticons.
I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer to keep the old novel. It took me 25 years to learn how to read, and I really don’t want to go through that all over again. Miraculously—perhaps fortunately, for me—novelists still seem capable of telling good, provocative stories, even when they use regular old-fashioned words. And isn’t that what we want out of a novel? A good, stimulating story?
Maybe it’s a certain concoction of literary elements, genres, and voices that makes for good writing. If that’s the case, I’d like to mix John McPhee with Nick Hornby, add one part Art Dudley, one part Sam Tellig, a pinch of hard-boiled Haruki Murakami (substitute with Charles Bukowski, if necessary), and garnish with a sprig of John Atkinson.
Queens of the Stone Age: …Like Clockwork (CD, Matador)
Maybe it’s the same way with rock music. Can there really be anything truly “new,” other than the day itself? If Jimi Hendrix had released his debut record in 2013, rather than 1967, would we hear it as something new? Can we hear the new Queens of the Stone Age record without hearing David Bowie or Elton John? Can we hear the new Savages record without hearing Wire or Sonic Youth? (Sonic Youth is very clearly quoted, or ripped-off, in Savages’ album opener “Shut Up.”) Does it matter? Or are we fortunate to merely hear anything at all? Isn’t there value—even great value—in combining and recombining these elements and introducing them to new times?
Savages: Silence Yourself (CD, Matador)
A few factors—some specific, some general—contributed to this particular list of Payday Albums. I go through phases of listening just as I go through phases of reading. Sometimes, I search for something new. Other times, like now, I simply search for something familiar and good.
You’ll notice that I purchased all of these albums on CD—crazy, I know, but I’m in the process of reviewing NAD’s new C 516BEE CD player ($300), which replaces their C 515BEE, and I tend to use CD player reviews as good excuses for purchasing CDs.
I didn’t really intend to give my money to so many major labels, but whatever. You might even wonder where one goes to buy CDs these days. The answer: Best Buy. They have tons of them! And they’re all, like, $8.99 or less!
Kanye West: Yeezus (CD, Def Jam)
The day before the official release of Kanye West’s Yeezus, I was at a karaoke bar with a few friends and acquaintances. When the topic of my work came up, someone asked for my opinion on Kanye West, on Daft Punk, on Macklemore. Unfortunately, I had no opinions to share. Instead, I might have discussed Aidan Baker or Jenny Hval, but neither artist would have gone very far with this particular crowd. As is so often the case, I failed to relate, and felt somewhat inadequate because of it. Shouldn’t I, as someone intimately familiar with modern music, have at least some opinion of the new Kanye West album?
Maybe, maybe not.
Now that I’ve listened, I’m surprised by Yeezus. The opening track, “On Sight,” might have easily appeared on any of the “new” crop of albums from young independent artists determined to combine electronic music and noise—Pete Swanson, Rene Hell, and Container immediately come to mind, though none of these artists, as far as I know, have been mentioned in recent reviews of the West album. Why is that?
Sigur Rós: Kveikur (CD, XL Recordings)
I pretty much stopped listening to Sigur Rós after their second album, Agaetis Byrjun, not because I no longer enjoyed the band, but because I thought I knew what to expect from them. I read a review somewhere, though, that insisted the new record, Kveikur, represented a departure from their earlier work. Or did it represent an evolution? I can’t remember. Anyhow, I agree, I guess. After just one listen, Kveikur strikes me as sounding slightly darker, heavier, more menacing than the band’s earlier stuff—less celestial, perhaps, with a hint of Godspeed You! Black Emperor.
Okay, I also bought Kveikur for its awesomely creepy album art. The fact that Valgeir Sidgursson recorded the album’s string section provided greater incentive.
Bruno Mars: Unorthodox Jukebox (CD, Atlantic Records)
I picked up the Bruno Mars album, with all kinds of guilty pleasure, because I’ve enjoyed, with all kinds of guilty pleasure, every one of the singles I’ve heard on the radio. Can’t help it. I mean, if you like Michael Jackson (and who doesn’t?), you’re going to like “Treasure,” and if you like The Police, you’re probably going to like “Locked Out of Heaven.” And if you like Prince, and if you like Sam Cooke . . . well, you get the picture. Besides all that, Ms. Little enjoys dancing to this record, and I can think of no better reason to own it.
Macklemore & Ryan Lewis: The Heist (CD, Macklemore)
Same goes with the Macklemore & Ryan Lewis disc, The Heist. I still want to vomit every time I hear “Thrift Shop,” but it is pretty cool that the duo made about a gazillion dollars (and counting) on an album they produced, recorded, and released independently.
R. Kelly: TP-2.com (CD, Jive/Sony)
I continue my way through the voluminous R. Kelly discography with TP-2.com, released in 2000. This is one of the few R. Kelly releases Ms. Little didn’t already own, so I took the plunge: $6.99 at Best Buy, which is less than what it costs for take-out lunch in Manhattan—and take-out lunch, no matter where it’s purchased, never makes me laugh or dance as much as this.
J. Cole: Born Sinner (CD, Columbia/Sony/Roc Nation)
Mac Miller: Watching Movies with the Sound Off (CD, Rostrum Records)
I’d never heard of J. Cole or Mac Miller until seeing their new records, respectively Born Sinner and Watching Movies with the Sound Off, advertised on the Other Music website. I have a policy which states that if Other Music sells it, I buy it. So, I bought these two on a whim and I’m glad I did. Born Sinner features cameo performances by Kendrick Lamar, Miguel, TLC (!), Amber Coffman (of Dirty Projectors), and James Fauntleroy (of The Y’s), and gives writing and production credits to R. Kelly, Sean Combs, Andre Benjamin, and Fela Kuti, among others, so I figured there’d be plenty to hold my interest. Similarly, the Mac Miller production credits read like a Who’s Who of Electronic Hip-Hop: Steven Ellison (Flying Lotus), Earl Sweatshirt, Clams Casino, The Alchemist, et al.; cameos include Earl Sweatshirt, Ab-Soul, Action Bronson, Schoolboy Q, and Jay Electronica.
Daft Punk: Random Access Memories (CD/LP, Columbia)
That leaves Random Access Memories, which deserves more than a few words, if only because my emotional response to it has been so violent and strong: That is, I’ve swung from violent hatred to violent love. Really, I’m confused by this record. I enjoy it so much, I bought the vinyl version, too.
The first time I listened, I could only get through the first song and a few seconds of the second, which is probably unfair, but I found the music exceedingly offensive and nearly unlistenable. And haven't you ever abandoned a novel? You're allowed to, you know—it's one of your god-given rights. Random Access Memories didn’t sound like music as much as the glossy sheen of music—some sort of foul idea of music. Which struck me as being very cynical. And gross. Ick.
But, even as novels can be poorly written, it’s important to remember that they can also be poorly read: John McPhee usually requires more concentration than I can afford while standing on a crowded commuter train, for instance. Charles Bukowski generally requires more angst and irreverence than I can muster at this point in my life. Similarly, just as music is sometimes poorly performed or poorly composed, it can also be poorly heard. The first time I listened to Random Access Memories, I was at work, with a million other things occupying my mind, streaming from Pandora through my horrible laptop speakers.
Listening to this album through the hi-fi is an entirely different experience. The performances are flawless, the melodies infectious, the grooves deep. Many of the darker, more adventurous synth lines remind me of Umberto’s Confrontations. Compare, for instance, Umberto’s “Final Revelations” to Daft Punk’s “Giorgio by Moroder” or “Contact.” While the Umberto stuff is extremely enjoyable, I find the Daft Punk stuff to be more sophisticated, more precisely performed, and better presented. Also: As Ms. Little pointed out, Random Access Memories is some sort of funk-rock robot opera. Which is every bit as silly, absurd, and wonderful as it sounds.
I’m nearly brought to tears whenever I hear “Within.” The song features a lovely performance by Chilly Gonzalez on piano, and a ridiculous robot, in search of friendship, identity, love:
There are so many things that I don’t understand
There’s a world within me that I cannot explain
Many rooms to explore, but the doors look the same
I am lost, I can’t even remember my name
[Wimper, wimper…] Ahem. Excuse me. You see? If you can’t relate to that, you’re not human.
Damn. What else have I been wrong about? Is it really time to go back and listen to that Ke$ha album?
No. I’d stone myself before stooping that low.
Source : stereophile[dot]com
YG Acoustics Sonja 1.3 loudspeaker
To riff on Wes's conclusion, "If it ain't broke, it don't need fixin'." So I was somewhat puzzled when I first saw the Anat's successor, the Sonja 1.3, at the 2013 Consumer Electronics Show. The Sonja 1.3 comprises the Sonja 1.1, the top module, which can be used on its own and costs $38,800/pair (footnote 1). Adding the upper woofer module gives you the Sonja 1.2 ($72,800/pair), while completing the package with the lower woofer module results in the Sonja 1.3 ($106,800/pair).
Superficially, the new speaker looks identical to the older one: the same height, the same form—three separate modules constructed from aluminum panels mounted atop one another—and the same drive-unit array: a 1" silk-dome tweeter mounted within an almost circular waveguide between two 6" midrange drivers, and two 10" woofers. But on closer inspection, it became apparent that the Sonja 1.3 is, in many ways, a completely different design.
The Sonja . . .
The modules of the Anat Reference II Professional were flat-sided, with the HF/MF module rectangular and the two woofers truncated pyramids of different heights but identical volumes, which gave the speaker's appearance a Bauhaus flavor. By contrast, the Sonja 1.3's modules feature subtly radiused side panels, the increasing radius of the lower modules producing an elegantly concave profile. The woofers are no longer powered but passively crossed over, the crossover for both modules residing in the bottom one. (When just the Sonja 1.2 is purchased, the low-frequency crossover is housed in the 1.2 woofer module; this is replaced by a blanking plate when the 1.3 woofer is added.) The crossover filters are a proprietary topology, said to add in-phase in the overlap regions, and use expensive, close-tolerance Mundorf capacitors and "Zero Ohm" inductors. One toroidal air-core inductor is wound in-house by YGA, and the Sonja's internal wiring is all Kimber Select.
Most significant, whereas the Anat and its variants used paper-cone midrange units and woofers, the Sonja's drivers feature the BilletCore diaphragms that made their appearance toward the end of the Anat's life. Each cone begins as a circular blank of 6061 aluminum alloy, an aircraft-grade metal that finishes well and doesn't corrode like harder aluminum alloys. A five-axis CNC machine first balances the blank, then increases its rotational speed so that metal can be cut away to produce the finished cone. It takes about three hours of machine time to produce the woofer cone, which has a thickness before anodizing of 0.25mm, this down from an initial time of eight hours. To produce a midrange cone, which is 0.2mm thick, takes about 90 minutes (both times including setup). The finished cones are sent out for hard anodizing, then shipped to Denmark with the surrounds to be assembled into complete drive-units, the Danish company providing all the "soft" parts, such as the spider.
The final woofer cone weighs 46gm; for reference, the cone of the 10" woofer used by KEF in its R207/2, which I reviewed a few years back, including the voice-coil and its former, weighs 40gm. There is therefore a tradeoff between increased mass and reduced sensitivity with a machined-alloy cone. However, YGA's founder, Yoav Geva, feels that this is worthwhile, given that the BilletCore cone is going to be truly pistonic not only throughout its passband but well beyond it. The use of machined metal unstressed by stamping or extrusion makes the cones extremely rigid and strong—the midrange cone has a mass of only 8gm, but can take 1000 lbs of vertical load without flexing.
Not only the cones, but all the metal parts in the Sonja, including the trim rings around the drivers—even the biwiring binding posts—are made by YGA. The aluminum panels that form the enclosures are milled from large sheets of aluminum.
I visited the YGA factory just before writing this review. It's an impressive operation. Raw aluminum-alloy rods, bars, and sheets enter; finished speakers and bags of aluminum swarf and scrap leave, the former to dealers and distributors, the latter to a recycling center. YGA's two expensive CNC machines run flat-out for two shifts every day, even machining away the copper between the traces on the circuit boards for the crossover filters.
Having seen YGA's capital-intensive operation, I am surprised not only that the Sonja 1.3 doesn't cost more than it does, but also that it costs slightly less than the company's earlier flagship model.
Setup & System
YGA's Dick Diamond and Kerry St. James delivered the six aluminum flight cases containing the Sonja 1.3s and, much to my relief, insisted on setting up the speakers in my listening room all by themselves. With each complete speaker weighing 506 lbs, I had been wondering how they were going to move them.
The answer: To place the 1.2 module atop the 1.3 module, then crown the array with the 120-lb 1.1 module, they used the hand-pumped, handled suction cups used to lift large sheets of glass. Then, with the speaker assembled, they slid Teflon furniture-moving coasters, fitted with Delrin inserts, under the four spikes. It proved surprisingly easy to slide the speakers around on these coasters, to find the optimal positions in the room. Once Diamond and St. James had proclaimed themselves comfortable with the setup, they took the suction cups and coasters away with them, meaning that I was able to do no further fine-tuning of the speaker positions.
Footnote 1: This price is with the internal, 65Hz high-pass filters fitted. A pair of Sonja 1.1s without the filters costs $34,000.
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Source : stereophile[dot]com
Jim Anderson: The Educated Ear
"In ear-training class, I try to get the students to hear and recognize and create a vocabulary, and articulate that vocabulary to describe what they are hearing. I make them listen to full-range, high-resolution stuff as much as possible. I take one of Patti's recordings, 24[-bit]/96[kHz] and I dump it down to 44.1[kHz] and then I take it down to MP3. I play them the 44.1. Then I'll play them the [MP3], and I don't tell them what it is. If they are careful listeners, they'll tell me the first one sounds like this, the second one sounds like that. And when they describe that, all the words they use actually are describing an MP3.
"I had one student once said it sounds like you took the first one and put it in a little box and tied it up and put a bow on it. Others will say, 'It doesn't have all the depth,' or 'It lacks reverb,' or 'Did you change the mix?' Then I take a subtraction of the two, and show them what's in this that's not in that, and they'll hear the distortion and the artifacts and all the crap that's actually being hidden very cleverly by the signal. What I am noticing as the years go by is that people sometimes like the MP3 better than the 44.1, and it's only because they're used to that sound. Years ago, when we started this department, I remember thinking, That is the one thing that somebody has to educate them about. If I can teach them how to listen, I will have taught them something."
Anderson trained his own ears early. A fan of the Henry Mancini recordings engineered by Al Schmitt, he cites Schmitt's recording of Mancini's The Music from Peter Gunn (RCA Victor, 1959) as a touchstone in his listening history. "I always felt, if I ever made a recording as good as that, then I'd really made it."
Another early model was the late Phil Ramone. Anderson cites as particular favorites "The Girl from Ipanema," from Stan Getz and João Gilberto's Getz/Gilberto (1963), and Peter, Paul & Mary's Album 1700 (1967).
Another obvious influence on the development of Anderson's auditory acumen was Mercury's Living Presence series, particularly the label's recordings of the Eastman Wind Ensemble, mono copies of which still hold a cherished place in the record collection in Anderson's New York City home. "To me, that's what it's all about. It's good, clean sound. It doesn't draw attention to the engineering. The engineering should be transparent. You should be able to just put it on and not know anything I did. It should just sound like music."
Most engineers' personal taste in music plays a large role in determining what kind of music they're drawn to work with. Although Anderson has engineered records by bluesman James Blood Ulmer, country fiddler Vassar Clements, storyteller Garrison Keillor, and something called the Intergalactic Maiden Ballet, his main interest has always been jazz, and that's where he's made his living.
"If you go back and listen to recordings from the early 1980s, the gated snare sounds and the gated echoes and that kind of stuff, I'm guilty of that too. But that was the style at the time. But you find what works for you. The reason I don't use a lot of delays or a lot of compression is because I hear it and it bothers me. It doesn't sound natural. So I'm trying to do what needs to be done and serve the music, but at the same time not kind of overdo it as far as any technical stuff goes. What you learn as an engineer is that if you don't go in there and really do the proper surgical EQ [equalization], if you don't put in the right kind of atmosphere, the recording just sounds dead and flat.
"I've gone through what I would call my 'audiophile' phase. When I was at NPR, I would hear recordings on the air and they would just sound lifeless. What it needed was a little bit of pumping up. It needed a little bit of EQ and reverb and all that. In fact, people have gotten used to hearing those effects; they've become the natural vocabulary of listening to a recording. Even these classic recordings, Columbia Records, the six-eyes, those things had tons of EQ, tons of compression, tons of reverb, and we listen to them and go, 'Wow, isn't that great classic recording!' That's my starting point."
Anderson's actual starting point was Butler, Pennsylvania, where he was raised and went to high school. "I took electronics courses in high school, and my French horn teacher was an audiophile. He had an AR-1 woofer, Jansen tweeters, and McIntosh amps. I remember when he traded in the McIntosh for a Scott amplifier. I watched him go through all the processes."
Anderson and I are connected by more than just this profile. We grew up within 40 miles of each other, and now both live mere blocks apart in New York City. We also attended the same summer camp in western Pennsylvania, where he amused himself by listening to records in the dining hall while I remember laying in my bunk and hearing The Who's Tommy and the Original Broadway Cast recording of Hair for the first time. Given those events, our adult lives seem positively preordained.
Anderson attended Duquesne University, in Pittsburgh, where, in 1973, he began his engineering career at local radio station WDUQ (now defunct). Although his mother and father insisted that he work toward a teaching degree in music—"my parents were concerned I was going to go down there and become a hippie"—he majored in French horn and minored in piano. But he'd already been bitten by the audio-electronics bug.
With KDKA radio in Pittsburgh, the site of the first commercial radio broadcast in the US, as an exemplar, Anderson fell in love with broadcast. After successfully recording his piano teacher's master's-degree recital—Anderson's first official recording—he was handed the keys to the recording studio at Duquesne's music school. His eyes twinkle as he remembers recording Duquesne's famous folk-song-and-folk-dance company, the Tamburitzans, and toting around his Sony 260 reel-to-reel recorder and a couple of mikes, and "literally twisting the wires together to make them work. I had always wanted to be involved in some kind of occupation that had something to do with sound and something to do with music. As a freshman, I'd read a book from the Duquesne library, Alec Nisbett's The Sound Studio: Audio Techniques for Radio, Television, Film and Recording [1962]. I just read it and read it and read it, so by the time they handed me the keys, I was ready to go. Up to that point, I was a kid-and-a-tape-machine kind of thing."
One of Anderson's classmates at Duquesne, the Catholic university "on the bluff," near downtown Pittsburgh, was the saxophonist Eric Leeds, who has worked with Prince in various musical roles since just after the release of Purple Rain. "There was a great record shop up in [the Pittsburgh neighborhood of] Oakland, and Eric said, 'Here's Sketches of Spain, here's Kind of Blue, Coltrane's Lush Life, Giant Steps—you gotta listen to this stuff!"
Source : stereophile[dot]com
Yeah Yeah Yeahs: "Despair"
Simple, beautiful, majestic: The video for Yeah Yeah Yeahs "Despair," the second single from their recently released Mosquito, has the band on top of the Empire State Building, rocking joyously as the sun rises over the unreal city.
Source : stereophile[dot]com
Read more…
I grew up with the Empire State Building outside my bedroom window. It seemed close enough to touch, but also a million miles away. These days, I walk by it every morning on my way to work and again every evening on my way home. But I've never been to the top.
It was the first time for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Karen O, who grew up not far from me in Englewood, NJ. Our paths have never crossed.
The video was directed by Patrick Daughters, who also directed the videos for YYYs' "Maps" and "Gold Lion." "Despair" has a touch of those earlier songs' sweet glory.
"I felt like I could give as personal a performance because of our history together," said Karen O, in a press release. "It was important to us that it felt intimate despite being filmed at one of NYC's most famous landmarks and an international cultural icon. It was my first-ever trip up to the top of the Empire State Building, top of the world. We were up there from 3am to sunrise. I'm guessing very few get to see that view from up there at those hours."
I'm guessing she's right about that.
"I gotta say I had a 'the-impossible-is-possible' moment up there with Nick and Brian," O continued. "If someone would have sat us down at the Mars Bar years back and told us that we'd be performing our music on the top of the Empire State Building one day, we probably would have thought that's the stuff that dreams are made of, not us, no way."
Source : stereophile[dot]com
Too Many Audio Shows?
While this is no more shows than took place in 2011 or 2012, many exhibitors, manufacturers and distributors alike, to whom I talked at the spring events felt that the high-end audio industry is suffering from an overload of audio shows.
I'm certainly feeling the overload—in addition to the spring shows, I represented Stereophile at the "Music Matters" retailer evenings promoted by Seattle's Definitive Audio at the end of February, by Denver's Listen-Up in mid-April, and by Atlanta's Audio Alternative at the end of April. In between the shows and dealer events, I gave presentations to California's Central Coast Audiophile Society, the Connecticut Audiophile Society, and New York's The Audiophile Society.
Don't get me wrong. I am not complaining about the amount of traveling I'm doing. Shows, dealer evenings, audiophile-society meetings—all pump enthusiasm into the audiophile world, and I leave these events charged with renewed energy. But Stereophile, like most high-end companies, is a relatively small operation, and taking part in such events is an extracurricular activity that must take second place to our putting out a magazine every month and posting content on our website.
Manufacturers, of course, get a more immediate benefit than does a magazine for participating in shows. If they do their job right, sales of their products should increase. (See Jason Victor Serinus's April "As We See It" for ways in which many do not do it right.) But as Robert Deutsch pointed out, if you add to the cost of the exhibit space the costs of shipping, transportation, hotel rooms, meals, and staff, participating in shows is an expensive endeavor. "The benefits," he wrote, "in terms of additional business, while real, are difficult to measure."
So why are there so many audio shows?
Before 1986, when I joined Stereophile, I had been involved in starting a show at London's Heathrow Airport, promoted by the UK magazine I used to edit, Hi-Fi News. It seemed a natural expansion of Stereophile's business, therefore, to get into shows, which we did first in Santa Monica, in spring 1987. Shows followed in New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Miami, and Chicago, and by the time of our 1996 New York Show, at the Waldorf=Astoria, what was generally referred to as "the Stereophile show" featured 144 rooms with 468 exhibiting retailers, distributors, and brands (footnote 1). (There were 70 brands whose names began with the letter A alone.) In less than 10 years, therefore, the Stereophile show had grown to become a national event, and remained so for another 11 years, culminating in 2007 with our final show, at Manhattan's Grand Hyatt.
By contrast, the modern shows are smaller, regional events. Looking at the spring shows, the Chicago AXPONA was the largest, with 86 rooms and 264 exhibiting brands (footnote 2), followed by SSI with 70 rooms and 370 brands. The New York Audio Show had 47 rooms and 253 brands. And there's nothing wrong with regional shows. While attending this many shows has become burdensome for exhibitors and magazines alike, as far as attendees are concerned, a show in Chicago is not in competition with a show in New York. A show in Southern California is not in competition with a show in northern California, or Denver, or Toronto, or Montreal, or Washington, DC. And as I noted in a video interview at AXPONA, the attendees at these shows were enthusiastic, and even included women and young people!
Every one of these shows can justify its existence on the grounds that it is giving audiophiles in its catchment area the opportunity to audition not only the best, cost-no-object audio equipment but also the bread-and-butter products that are bought by ordinary people. Because, as was argued by one of the readers who commented on Bob Deutsch's SSI wrap-up, "For consumers there is no better way to sample a variety of audio products." Another reader added that "these shows are partly the result of failed brick-and-mortar stores. They serve a similar function, where the public [can] go and see, smell, and hear (hopefully). So it's a shift in financial expenditure back to the manufacturer. And to the customer, who must pay just to window shop." This sentiment was echoed by an e-mail from an industry figure who wished to remain anonymous: "These regional shows are popping up everywhere because brick-and-mortar stores are going out of business. . . . At this rate, the only place you will be able to see hi-fi is going to be at a regional show, and customers will be buying directly from the manufacturer. In the end, this marginalizes our industry even more and leaves customers with a raw deal."
Ironically, our experience in the 20 years that Stereophile put on shows was that for a show to be successful, it needed: 1) a sufficiently large number of attendees within driving distance, and 2) a host city with a critical number of retailers. As well as exhibiting, those retailers give logistical support to exhibiting manufacturers. We found that the cities where success was probable comprised a list of the usual suspects: Los Angeles, San Francisco, New York, Chicago, Montreal, Denver, and Toronto, each of which has a good number of still-healthy retailers.
I have always felt that the continued success of the high-end industry depends on the existence of well-run specialty retailers. This is why I applaud the retailers mentioned above, as well as all the others who do something similar, for promoting such events as the "Music Matters" evenings. Even more than audio shows, these events are where our community's grass-roots enthusiasm for listening to music coincides with the industry's need to expose its products to potential customers. To survive, audio retailers need to be farmers preparing for the next crop, not fishermen.
Footnote 1: The statistics for all audio shows mentioned were taken from the published show guides.
Footnote 2: T.H.E. Show Newport Beach, which took place after this essay had gone to press, surpassed the Chicago Axpona: there were 312 brands exhibiting in 137 rooms, which made it the largest North American show so far in 2013.
Source : stereophile[dot]com
Reporting from Pepcom: Weird Headphones, Too Much Bluetooth, and Something Completely Different
RadioShack
This 25-watt RadioShack Cordless Soldering Iron ($19.99) runs on four double-A batteries, includes a built-in LED to shine a light on your handiwork, and heats up to 900-degrees Fahrenheit. It comes with a proprietary ceramic Split-Tip, is RoHS compliant, and utilizes an automatic shut-off feature in case the device overheats.
Products from the RadioShack exclusive Auvio line included the 60 Watt HBT6000 Bluetooth Boombox ($199), the 30 Watt PBT1000 Bluetooth Boombox ($129), the cute 10 Watt Bluetooth Cube Speakers ($39.99), the Auvio Music Receiver ($39.99), and the entry-level Auvio headphones ($29.99). The Auvio headphones had boatloads of wooly bass and colorations all over the place. The Auvio Music Receiver is a Bluetooth receiver that connects to your system via RCA or minijack connection. The Auvio Cube and PBT1000 functions as a Bluetooth speaker as well as a microphone for your mobile communication device. The HBT6000 is a more powerful Bluetooth speaker but does not include the microphone capabilities. We were unable to connect my phone to both the HBT6000 and PBT1000 so I didn’t get a chance to hear them with familiar material.
Creative:
In their brand new line of EVO headphones Creative has actually done something, well, creative.
The EVO headphones host a built-in DAC based on their Creative Z-Series soundcard. The $229 ZX has 40mm drivers. The $299 ZXR has 50mm drivers and adds active noise cancelling. Both devices can connect to the source via USB, Bluetooth, and minijack. One can even use the EVO as a standalone DAC by routing the audio signal into the headphone’s USB input and output via the four-pole minijack to a set of powered speakers.
Also, they look outrageous. Their see-through panels and multiple layers of red angular casework reminded me of Sektor from Mortal Kombat III.
Sektor is on the right
Listening to the EVO ZXR prototype was a mixed experience. There was deep extended bass and surprising clarity in the mid treble but a serious suck-out in the midrange that made Javelin’s “L’Ocean” sound hollow and vocal-less. In addition, there were random spikes in volume causing distortion while listening. I spoke with the Creative rep and discovered the sound was being manipulated by the Crystallizer function in a partnering app, which boosted the lows and highs “to compensate for their absence in over-compressed music.” We turned off the Crystallizer but before I started listening to music, the headphone emitted intermittent distorted bleepity-bloops. Hopefully, the kinks are sorted by the EVO ZXR’s release next month. The EVO ZX is available now.
Ultimate Ears:
When Logitech acquired Jerry Harvey’s Ultimate Ears headphone brand, the brand names sandwiched around a vertical line creating the multi-syllabic “Logitech|UE”. Per PR representative Andrea McDonald, Logitech is repositioning the brand with “a deeper dive into the music”. They have reverted back to the name Ultimate Ears.
The $199.99 UE Boom, a cylindrical water-resistant Bluetooth speaker perfect for portable listening, was on display. The Boom provides 360-degree sound via two 1.5" full range drivers and two 2" passive radiators. It is wrapped in a stain-proof acoustic skin and can be dropped in the pool (for just a second). A more recommended near-water use for the Boom is bringing it into the shower. The device can be charged for up to 15 hours worth of battery life. Two UE Booms can be “Doubled Up” using the accompanying mobile app to convert the speakers into a two-channel system.
I reviewed a Logitech Boombox earlier this year and was disappointed by its propensity to distort at moderately high volumes. Boomboxes are made for social situations and should thus go loud—the clearer the better. I asked McDonald to turn the UE Boom all the way up. On the Foster the People track “Helena Beat” maxed out I didn’t necessarily hear clarity, but when turned down, I noticed nicely defined lines around the instruments and an agreeable balance. The UE Boom is available now.
Boom.
Sugar Sync:
Sugar Sync is a cloud storage solution that differentiates itself from Dropbox by allowing users to sync their computer’s file hierarchy to their cloud storage rather than having an independent Cloud-only folder. This could help those who want constant access to their music folders regardless of device and don’t want to have to maintain a separate cloud storage folder.
Sugar Sync offers 5GB of free storage for basic consumers. Their first paid plan starts at 60GB of storage for $7.50/month, and they offer plans up to 1TB of storage if you really want it.
Sugar Sync has two data centers, one on the East Coast and one on the West Coast, each with matching data in case one of the centers is struck by natural disaster, rolling blackout, or ninja attack.
Main Gear
How could I not share a picture of this behemoth? Main Gear presented their water-cooled super-computer prototype. Water-cooling leads to a quieter system, lower temperatures, and a longer lifetime for the product.
The prototype you see here utilizes a dual pump system and reservoir that will last up to three years with out being refilled. Main Gear’s computers run on Windows 8 and are equipped with quick disconnects on internal cards for modification.
For the serious computer audiophile.
Vizio
The closest thing I saw to non-headphone and non-wireless audio at the show was the very affordable S4251 Vizio 5.1 system. For $329, you get an eight-driver three-channel soundbar, two full-range satellite speakers, and one 6" wireless subwoofer. The system was designed by Vizio in California and manufactured in China. The Vizio M801D TV seen in the image receives the 5.1 signal from a Bluray player via HDMI and outputs it via Toslink to the S4251. Vizio will also launch the S4221 2-channel soundbar on June 27th.
Vizio makes audio.
Brookstone
Guess what? More Bluetooth! Brookstone showcased their Big Blue Go prototype, a portable Bluetooth speaker that will cost approximately $129 and be released in a couple months. It will feature call capabilities and blah blah blah blah Bluetooth blah blah blah.
The Big Blue Go from Brookstone in a massage chair.
Korus
I approached the Korus representative and the assortment of boomboxes: “Let me guess, another Bluetooth speaker?”
“Actually, you’re wrong. We hate Bluetooth!” he boasted.
Korus’s new line of boomboxes utilizes a proprietary wireless audio protocol called SKAA. SKAA is transmitted on the 2.4GHZ ISM radio band. By connecting your device to a small Korus Baton, one starts transmitting audio immediately to the Korus device. Unlike the Bluetooth devices used earlier that evening, the connection to the Korus boombox was fast and without flaw.
SKAA promises high reliability, a 480Kbps rate of transfer, 40ms of latency in the transmission, 65-foot range, and the ability to connect to four different Korus speakers at once. The Baton is available in 30-Pin, Lightning, USB, and Micro-USB connectors. The only downside is that one constantly has to have the baton at-hand to connect.
Models in the line up range between $299 and $399.
The Korus team hates Bluetooth!
Siemens:
And now for something completely different. We get a surprising amount of requests at Stereophile for coverage on hearing aids. When I got an email from Siemens saying they’d be presenting their hearing aids at this summer’s Pepcom, I told them I’d be there. They were confused.
It was the most informative and enjoyable presentation of the event.
The hearing aid division at Siemens is a tiny part of their conglomerate, which normally focuses on energy, transportation, and healthcare infrastructure. Yet, the Siemens hearing aid division is the largest manufacturer of hearing aids worldwide.
The hearing aid division sources much of their technology from Siemens R&D worldwide. Developments include the use of a digital chip, noise-cancellation, and beam forming. Beam forming is the ability to focus on the source of the sound while damping the surrounding environment. Siemens hearing aids are designed to be “scene-to-scene” thus change intake format based on the volume of the surrounding environments.
Hearing aids offered by Siemens usually fall in the receiver in-canal category with a discreet piece that fits behind the ear. Siemens now provides a device to pair your device with your phone via Bluetooth connection. (There it is again.) They are fitted with Gore-Tex to last up to two hours submerged in water and range from $1200-$2400 depending on the amount of hearing loss.
Trends
Well that’s it! If you consider the companies at Pepcom a random sample of what is happening in consumer technology right now, one could draw that Bluetooth continues to be unreliable, not all headphones are created equal, and hearing aids rock!
A Siemens hearing aid submerged in water.
Source : stereophile[dot]com
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Source : stereophile[dot]com
Monitor Audio Airstream WS100 Sweepstakes
According to the company:
If you're one of the millions who store and play music from a desktop or laptop, Monitor Audio has designed the WS100 wireless audio system with you in mind. It comprises a pair of stylish cube speakers with amps and wireless receiver on-board. The matching, compact monitors, just 5" in dimension, are precision engineered to deliver clean wideband lossless audio from any computer in seconds. Simply position the speakers, plug-in the USB transmitter and play CD quality sound wire-free.Built for peerless ease of use, the WS100 operates with plug and play simplicity. Power up the speakers with a single mains connection and plug the SKAA transmitter dongle in the nearest USB. When in range of the transmitter (up to 10 metres) as many as four WS100 systems will receive the same source. Further dongles will send pristine lossless audio from up to four sources to the same WS100 system. Integrated with each DAC is a specialised wireless receiver, employing a very high quality digital audio protocol to transport audio from source to destination without compression. Operating in the 2.4GHz band, it protects the lossless signal from other networks with a patented Walking Frequency Diversity™ (WFD) technology, which uses sophisticated and seamless channel-hopping to eliminate clicks, pops and dropouts.
Each active speaker has been optimised to deliver the best audio experience possible from such a space-efficient system. Excellent acoustic design is dovetailed with advanced wireless architecture to maintain a clear signal path from source to speaker, free of the distortion that limits the enjoyment of music. Additionally, the WS100 monitors employ custom-designed tweeters and mid-bass drivers based on the C-CAM transducers used by Monitor Audio's flagship hi-fi speakers. Four decades of design knowhow give the WS100 system a specialised advantage, which rewards music lovers with fabulous lossless audio and robust reliability.
To enter the sweepstakes, all you need is an account on this website. If you don't already have one, click on the link labeled "register" at the bottom of this announcement or "Create new account" in the right column (under the ads). Then, enter a username and a valid e-mail address, and click on the "Create new account" button. A message will be automatically sent to the e-mail address you specified, which will include a link to activate the account.
The final step (and only step for those who already have an account) is to log in and leave a comment right here on this announcement—any comment will do, as long as it's not profane or spam. Then, when the sweepstakes closes, a lucky commenter will be chosen at random to receive the prize. So post a comment, and good luck!
For complete sweepstakes rules, click here.
Source : stereophile[dot]com
Jade Design Acquires Bob Carver, LLC
The Bob Carver Black Beauty monoblock power amplifier will continue to be made in the US; Jade Design only plans to make it, and other Carver products, more accessible to more people.
When I visited Jade Design in Franklin, TN, last December, Jade’s president, Dan Laufman, hinted that his company was on the verge of making a major acquisition. Today, Jade Design, parent company of Emotiva, Emotiva Pro, and Sherbourn, has completed the acquisition of tube amp manufacturer Bob Carver, LLC. The acquisition includes a long-term intellectual property agreement allowing Jade Design’s brands to utilize Bob Carver’s engineering ideas.
“This is a milestone in audio,” said Laufman, in a press release. “Bob Carver is a legendary name. It’s no exaggeration to call him one of the most brilliant, creative, and innovative designers in high-end audio, and I am thrilled to now call him my colleague.”
Bob Carver said: “Watching Dan and his team create the first truly successful direct-to-consumer high-end audio brand has brought me great pleasure, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather partner with than Dan Laufman.”
All Carver products will continue to be handmade in the US, but will now benefit from Jade’s larger and more efficient manufacturing facilities and Emotiva’s PureDirect sales model. Current Carver dealers will be able to continue selling through Jade with its PureDirect Partner program—a streamlined, territory-protected model that provides full support and shipping.
While Jade’s brands will still be sold direct via the Web, the company is determined to support existing dealers. “We won’t undercut the dealers,” said Laufman. “And there’ll be no need for the dealer to discount below the website’s advertised prices.” Any discounts advertised online will carry over to the bricks-and-mortar stores, so that the dealers’ margins stay the same.
The retail prices of Carver’s components will decrease accordingly, sometimes dramatically: The Black Beauty monoblock power amp, originally $13,000/pair, will now cost $7999/pair; the Cherry 180 monoblock, originally $9000/pair, will cost $5999/pair; the Black Magic stereo power amplifier, originally $2500, will cost $1690. For current owners who bought through dealers, Jade Design will offer a 50% discount on the direct price for an upcoming Carver Black Velvet preamp.
All of Bob Carver, LLC’s operations will move to the Jade Design facility in Franklin, TN, which in turn is being retrofitted for Carver production. With Bob Carver’s vision and expertise, Jade plans to expand the line to include subwoofers, speakers, and several new tubed products, including a DAC. “Emotive will take these ideas to market in a meaningful way,” said Laufman.
For Laufman, the opportunity to build electronics in the US has “stoked a fire.” He hopes to soon move production of certain Emotiva products to the US, as well.
“US manufacturing is in my blood,” he explained. “We’re excited to get back into it. We’ve got a great team here and we’re going to be successful with it.”
Source : stereophile[dot]com
The Entry Level #30
But I do wonder whether their energies could be better spent in sharing their experiences and wisdom, in humbly passing along to younger generations—their children, their grandchildren, possibly even me—their enthusiasm for music, sound, and quality, so that we might actually learn from our missteps and move on to more beautiful things. It almost seems they'd rather tread the same well-trampled ground (tubes vs solid-state, musicality vs accuracy, analog vs digital, love vs lust), forever taking only the smallest sideways steps, until the hi-fi hobby finally does die, nothing to show for its sufferings but an obsolete source component, a test CD, and eight linty balls of Blu-Tack. I wonder, again, whether these are the same fathers who, even after several scathing letters to the editor, remain baffled by their sons' and daughters' indifference to hi-fi, who blame that indifference on MP3s or Facebook, and who've turned their listening rooms into torture chambers complete with head vise, hot seat, and blinding blue lights.
Those, at least, were disciplinary measures my father never employed. He wasn't around much when I was a child, and when he was, his behavior was unpredictable and often frightening, like that of a hungry dog. It wasn't until fairly recently that I overcame my fear of the sound of a man's raised voice. He was too young to know how to be a good dad—it took him 34 years to confess that to me, over rice and beans one Sunday afternoon—and so I grew up fast and mostly alone. For comfort, he turned to alcohol and strange women; I closed my bedroom door, turned on the radio, and idolized my mother. There was nothing in the world my father could have shared with me then except embarrassment, anger, and regret. Hi-fi didn't exist. I never heard the word audiophile until, in August 2000, I took the job as Stereophile's editorial assistant. I lucked out. Every day is like the first day of school: I have plenty of catching up to do—as an audiophile and as a son.
Nevertheless, I can't blame anyone for a lack of interest in cats—they're a thankless species—and I know that my stories of Natalie and Nicole are often painfully awkward, and at times have been downright icky. This, too, is sort of old ground. Stereophile once ran a column, "Astor Place," whose author, a more or less normal woman, detailed domestic life with an obsessive-compulsive audiophile—in theory, a subject that should fascinate our readers. But did you ever read it? At least this is not that.
I kid. This is totally that, albeit somewhat skewed, inverted, revised for the 21st century. I live in an apartment building filled with beautiful women and their crazy animals—an inescapable circumstance of my present life that greatly influences my listening habits and priorities. Ms. Little and I are on the first floor with our two cats, Avon and Stringer. Yes, our cats: Along with Ms. Little's flat-screen TV, high-speed Internet connection, and lump-free mattress—wonderful luxuries, all—I guess I'm finally accepting co-ownership of the stinking hairballs. (Ms. Little will be as thrilled to read this as I am reluctant to write it.) Natalie and Nicole share an apartment on the second floor with a dog and two cats. Beth and Kristen occupy adjacent apartments on the third floor, Beth with two cats and Kristen with a dog. And on the fourth floor lives KB, with an apparently charming but actually vicious and psychopathic cat-monster named Oliver. I rarely go up there.
Anyway, the girls have abandoned me. They're vacationing in Buenos Aires for an entire week. I was invited to join them, but, out of a sense of obligation to this magazine's production schedule or something similarly ridiculous, I declined. That's right. Asked to spend a week in subtropical paradise with six beautiful women, I said no. Actually, Kristen, too, has stayed behind, but she's in a new relationship, and I suspect she and her guy will be busy doing new-relationship things: sitting primly on Kristen's velvety blue couch, discussing current events as Ra Ra Riot's The Orchard spins on her Music Hall USB-1 turntable. (Interestingly, her new guy, like me, is ginger-haired, favors plaid shirts, and is into hi-fi. Hmm. The mind drifts . . . ) Nevertheless, I could be strolling through magnificently landscaped gardens; admiring gorgeous, neo-gothic architecture; watching impossibly attractive people dance the seductive tango; stuffing my belly with lovingly fried milanesas, perfectly baked empanadas, and moist cakes slathered with dulce de leche. Instead, I'm enduring another week of winter in New Jersey. Alone.
Thanks to all the practice I got when I was a kid, I have no problem with being alone now, nor do I mind being the only guy at a party full of women. But I figured it'd be good for the girls to do their own thing. Plus, I'd already spent all my disposable income on records. (Among other things for which my father is known, some more admirable than others, his propensity for addiction has manifested in me, albeit in gentler, mostly safer forms.) In the weeks leading up to their trip, I was almost looking forward to being on my own again, to freely indulge in the sorts of things I typically spare my dear girlfriend: endless bouts of Ultimate Fighting Championship, obscene amounts of Scotch, long nights spent listening to experimental music, hours whiled away in the subtleties of speaker placement. Guy stuff. My stuff.
But now that the girls are gone, I can't wait to have them back. This has been the longest week of my life, each day passing as if it were three.
"Oh, Stephen! Now's your chance to move their furniture around!" John Atkinson keeps telling me. "Enjoy your freedom!"
Freedom? Ha. Most of my free time has been spent scooping kitty litter. I, too, am sick of this shit.
Fortunately, I've had the Music Hall Marimba loudspeakers to keep me occupied (footnote 1).
The love of a lifetime
Get excited, grumpy old audiophiles: I'm going to write about hi-fi now.
Late last year, when I first heard of the Marimba, I was happily surprised: One of my favorite hi-fi manufacturers had finally introduced its first and (so far) only loudspeaker—and it was seriously affordable at $349/pair. I wanted to review the Marimbas right away, but grumpy old Sam Tellig beat me to them (see our December 2012 issue). My first chance to hear the Marimbas came last October, at the 2012 Rocky Mountain Audio Fest, where they highlighted a refreshingly small and simple system comprising Music Hall's MMF-5.1SE turntable with Cruise Control 2.0 power supply, and a Creek Evolution 50A integrated amplifier. The cost of the entire rig, including cables and accessories, was around $3500—modest by most audiophiles' standards—and it sounded awesome: big, lively, detailed, and, most of all, fun.
While I was entirely impressed by the system's sound, I was slightly disappointed by the Marimba's appearance: Its boxy, black cabinet gives it an undeniably humble, completely unpretentious look, and though I can appreciate that, I want a little more style—something to set the Marimba apart from the countless hi-fi phonies lining the shelves of big-box stores and plastered all over Amazon.com. In terms of appearance, the Marimba is only slightly more attractive than the Dayton Audio B652, which I reviewed in January; and, while the Dayton, too, has a rather anonymous, generic look, that's something I can more easily accept in a speaker that costs only $40/pair.
Whatever. One evening, while Ms. Little was out, I replaced my beloved PSB Alpha B1s ($299/pair) with the Music Hall Marimbas, setting them exactly where the PSBs had been. After Ms. Little had gotten home, I asked her if she'd noticed the new speakers. Her eyes went wide. Her gaze drew an arc from left speaker to right. Her face expressed complete bewilderment, as if to say, "What new speakers?" As far as she was concerned, the Marimbas were the Alpha B1s; so while the PSBs strike me as being far more attractive, it stands to reason that most normal people wouldn't notice a difference.
Roy Hall, Music Hall's founder and "president for life," is responsible for both the Marimba's visual and acoustic designs—a fact that will keep certain audiophiles (those especially old and joyless ones again) from ever listening to the thing. Hall's got a reputation for being a bit of a potty-mouth. And he likes Scotch. Audiophiles who are afraid of obscenities and alcohol are therefore afraid of Roy Hall, but I've had the pleasure of speaking with the man on a number of occasions, and he strikes me as warm, intelligent, and reasonable—frank when it comes to business, and rather romantic when it comes to life.
Footnote 1: Music Hall, 108 Station Road, Great Neck, NY 11023. Tel: (516) 487-3663. Web: www.musichallaudio.com
Source : stereophile[dot]com
Listening #126
Lenco's calling card was an idler-drive system with two distinctions: Rather than driving the inner rim of the record platter with a horizontal idler wheel, every Lenco model used a vertically oriented wheel to contact the platter's underside; and every model eschewed a stepped motor pulley in favor of one far longer than average, yet smoothly tapered from near to far ends. The benefits of a conical pulley are especially obvious: It allowed users user to fine-tune playback speed and pitch; eliminated the need to make and to stock different-size pulleys for different markets; and, most significant, eliminated the need for a complex, clunky, and ultimately costly speed-change mechanism. Changing the speed of a Lenco's platter is accomplished by sliding that vertical idler wheel—held in place by a simple if somewhat flimsy carrier mechanism—from one end of the pulley to the other.
Lenco's drive system held the promise of a product that could sell for considerably less than the top-of-the-line Garrards and Thorenses, yet had the potential for comparable performance. Whether the company succeeded at the latter can be answered only by those hobbyists who've actually owned and used a Lenco turntable (footnote 1) Until this year, the only Lenco I'd experienced was the one inside my early-1980s Keith Monks RCM Mk.II, that British manufacturer having bought and used Lenco drive systems, bearings, and platters as the basis for its record-cleaning machines from day one. Nevertheless, opinion prevails that even the most upmarket Lenco 'tables were hobbled by overresonant platters and top plates, and by the fact that most Lenco models were bundled with Lenco tonearms of underwhelming design, materials, and manufacture.
I don't know the official stats, but it's a safe guess that total production for all Lenco turntables is well into six figures. Some of those models had only a flimsy sheet-metal platter—as with the Lencos that were used to make the Keith Monks RCMs, where such a shortcoming matters little—yet one must assume that remaining in the field are literally tens of thousands of so-called "heavy-platter" Lencos: plentiful, affordable, essentially high in quality, and just waiting for the right DIY hobbyist to come along and snap them up.
The missing linkage
This is where Netherlander Peter Reinders comes in: "My first Lenco, which I had when I was eight or nine years old, was an L70 that belonged to my grandfather. But it was many years later that I decided to try a Lenco again, when I bought a secondhand L75, just for fun. I didn't know if it would be very good or not, but I paid only €20. For that price, I'd be happy if it sounded good; if it didn't, well, I would have had a fun afternoon trying to fix it up."
As it happened, that €20 L75 sounded very good: Like other contemporary hobbyists, Reinders was surprised and impressed by the level of musical energy and drive that the combination of high-torque motor and idler wheel uncovered in his records. But he was dismayed by the L75's too-resonant top plate: the structure to which the platter bearing, the idler carrier/speed-change mechanism, and the motor assembly are all attached. Putting to use his professional experience as an industrial designer and his familiarity with CAD software, Reinders set about designing his own top plate and having it laser-cut from stainless steel by an outside firm.
Reinders's idea was to divide the Lenco's structural requirements between two distinctly separate and notably sturdy top plates, which could then be fastened to the plinth of one's choice. The smaller of the two plates supports the Lenco's asynchronous motor—itself contained within a kite-shaped, die-cast cradle that perches on three isolation springs, rather like the subchassis of a Linn LP12—and contains the rectangular opening through which the top-mounted idler makes contact with the motor pulley. The larger top plate supports the platter bearing—which is less substantial than average, though apparently well made—along with the mechanism that both supports the idler carrier and allows it to slide back and forth for coarse or fine adjustments of platter speed.
Naturally enough, in the wake of his success at designing a better top plate, Peter Reinders decided to have a few made for his fellow Lenco enthusiasts. An initial production run of 15, offered via the Internet in 2005, sold out in very little time, and there followed a flurry of e-mails, all asking: Do you have any more? Seemingly overnight, Reinders's hobby evolved into a sideline that he eventually named PTP Audio (for Peter's Top Plates). The PTP Audio plate has become the gold standard in Lenco circles (footnote 2), and Reinders can be thanked for the success of various other small manufacturers who now advertise "PTP-ready" Lenco plinths.
But not everyone who longs for a rebuilt Lenco is interested in doing the work her- or himself—or, as Reinders bluntly puts it, "Sometimes you get an e-mail from someone who wants the plate but doesn't have a clue." For those and other customers who've wished for a turnkey solution, PTP Audio offers for sale two completely finished and ready-to-use turntables: the Solid9, for use with the 9" tonearm of the owner's choice; and the Solid12, designed for 12" arms.
As with the Anatase turntable offered by Oswalds Mill Audio (footnote 3), both PTP players are built with reconditioned components from original heavy-platter Lencos: motors (along with their suspension cradles and wiring blocks), platter bearings, platters, platter mats, idler wheels, and idler-support mechanisms. Reinders cleans and lubricates each motor and platter bearing, replacing worn parts where necessary, and cleans the idler wheel and checks its concentricity—though he's found that a Lenco idler wheel almost never needs resurfacing. He also wraps the idler-support rod with a Teflon-like damping tape, and uses three round rubber belts to help tame the otherwise very lively alloy platter.
All of the above are built into a heavy, solid plinth made of Corian, the polymer-plus-mineral compound used to make kitchen counters and other such things. For the Solid9 and Solid12, channels for wiring and mechanical linkage are CNC-machined into a rectangular sheet of Corian, as are openings for a bolt-in circular tonearm board (also of Corian) and for the PTP top plate itself, to which all of the reconditioned Lenco components are fastened. While the original Lenco turntables had a mechanism that prevented contact between platter and idler when the player was not in use (it was mechanically linked to the On/Off switch), Reinders omits that from his 'tables, in what he describes as an effort "to maximize contact between plinth and top plate and to avoid any possible rattles. Most idler wheels don't suffer at all. After hundreds of PTP projects all over the world, I can safely say it is not a problem." The thinness of the Lenco idler, compared to most other idler wheels, may well add to its resilience in that regard.
Footnote 1: A community well represented on the distinctly civil LencoHeaven.com.
Footnote 2: PTP Audio, Amsterdam, The Netherlands. Web: www.ptpaudio.com
Footnote 3: The OMA Anatase uses its own platter bearing and idler mechanism in concert with the Lenco motor and platter.
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Source : stereophile[dot]com
