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Should Music Be Free?
A generation gap is part of this story: Today's music fans of high school and college age grew up with music files. I don't blame them for not feeling an obligation to support their favorite bands by paying for their music—they never had a physical connection to it. If you can't touch or see or covet the medium through which it's delivered, music might seem worthless. Older folks, like me, had to work a couple of minimum-wage hours to buy an album. That's not sour grapes—I still listen to some of those records, and music is the only thing from that long ago that's still valuable to me.
The ecosystem of record companies, record stores, and record buyers is fading fast, replaced by a model based on free or nearly free music. Streaming quality is improving, and high-resolution streaming is inevitable—even die-hard audiophiles will soon no longer need to buy music to hear it at its best. I have no doubt that Spotify, Google Music, Rhapsody, MOG, and Pandora will eventually "win," and the number of people actually paying for music will drop to the point where it's no longer feasible to make physical copies and sell them at affordable prices. Yes, the streaming companies pay royalties to the labels, but those fees are a tiny fraction of what the labels received from sales of downloads, CDs, or LPs. The streamers will grow rich as their subscriber bases swell, but the bands (remember them?) will make less and less money from their recorded output, make fewer albums, and write fewer songs.
That's already happening, Adele, Arcade Fire, Mumford & Sons, the National, and Radiohead, even at the peak of their creative powers, barely squeeze out an album every three or four years. Amy Winehouse released just two albums in her tragically short seven-year career. Industry insiders say that recorded music is now just 6% of the music business; the major revenue streams are concerts, licensing, and merchandising.
So if Jimi Hendrix had arrived in 2010 instead of 1967, he would have made one album before dying in 2013. Luckily for us, in his three-year run he made three studio albums, one of them a two-disc set, because back then most artists averaged an album a year, and some put out many more—between 1966 and 1993, the year of his death, Frank Zappa released 62 albums, half of them multi-disc sets.
It's a complicated issue, but the root cause of the blight is that today's fans don't appear to believe that bands have a right to make a living from recordings: Fans support bands by buying concert tickets and "merch." That's great, but when the band breaks up, their only legacy will be their paltry recorded output. Bands no longer record for their fan base; they've come to see recordings as promotional tools, loss leaders—if they're lucky, they might earn some cash if a tune is used in a film or TV soundtrack, video game, commercial, or ring tone. Fans whine that paying $10 for an album on iTunes or CD is way too much, but they don't have a problem with $4.25 Starbucks Frappuccinos, consumed in a matter of minutes—you can't download Starbucks for free. If my friends are any indication, audiophiles still buy a lot of music, but we're a shrinking minority.
A lot of anger is directed toward record labels. Sure, they screwed over countless artists, but with the old system, there was a payday and a record contract. Nowadays, most bands pay out of pocket to make recordings, which rarely make money or break even, so the bands have to stay on the road to make a living.
Perhaps the most hopeful sign for the future of recorded music is something along the lines of what singer-songwriter Amanda Palmer began with crowd funding. Palmer's fans commit to buy her records before they're made—the recordings can't be ripped off, file shared, or streamed, at least not at first. Palmer set out to raise $100,000 to fund a recording as a Kickstarter project in 2012, hit the jackpot, and raised $1,200,000. After that, Palmer's story gets a little murky, but pay-in-advance might be a viable path for bands still wanting to make money from their recordings.
Jazz composer and big-band leader Maria Schneider works with ArtistShare, another fan-funding site. I asked Schneider if she would accept a recording contract from a major label, if offered one, and even before I finished asking the question, she blurted out, "No way!" Her latest album, Winter Morning Walks required two orchestras and features Dawn Upshaw—a $200,000 project that no label would finance. All of Schneider's recordings have been profitable, possibly because she, a tireless advocate for changing the copyright laws to better protect artists, is adamant about keeping her music off streaming services and file-sharing sites. "For a pittance, you can listen to the entire worldwide collection of music. That's insanity."
Musicians will continue to make recordings, but the professional community of recording studios and of producers and engineers who have devoted their lives to making great-sounding recordings is contracting at an alarming rate. Some musicians will always make art for art's sake, but while once there was a glimmer of hope that their recordings might sell, that now seems far less likely.
Article Continues: Fred von Lohmann Offers a Counterpoint »
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Source : stereophile[dot]com
DSD Downloads
Source : stereophile[dot]com
Free Online Course on Beethoven's Piano Sonatas
The course will last five weeks, with an anticipated workload of 1–2 hours a week. Jonathan Biss studied at Indiana University and at the Curtis Institute of Music, and he has embarked upon a multi-year project to record all Beethoven's piano sonatas.
Biss states: "This course takes an inside-out look at the 32 piano sonatas from the point of view of a performer. Each lecture will focus on one sonata and an aspect of Beethoven's music exemplified by it . . . Its main aim is to explore and demystify the work of the performer, even while embracing the eternal mystery of Beethoven's music itself."
There are no prerequisites or assigned textbooks. For those who wish to dig deeper, Biss recommends the recorded performances of Arthur Schnabel and Richard Goode (footnote 1); biographies of Beethoven by Thayer and Lockwood; Beethoven's letters; and Charles Rosen's musicological analyses.
Students who successfully complete the online course will receive a Statement of Accomplishment. Registration information can be found at www.coursera.org.
Footnote 1: In related news, remastered versions of Canadian pianist Robert Silverman's complete set of Beethoven sonatas, which Stereophile editor John Atkinson recorded in 2000 and are long out of print, are available for download at 99 cents per track. File formats available are MP3, MP3-320, and FLAC.
Source : stereophile[dot]com
AB Analyzes His System
The System
The Usher S-520 is Dr. Joseph D’Appolito designed, 50W, 8 ohm, two-way, front-ported compact loudspeaker. It does not use a D’Appolito configuration. Rather, the tweeter is in the corner, a port offset to the opposite side below it, and a midwoofer centered at the bottom. Mine are finished in glittery white paint and rest on 23", kitty litter filled Target speaker stands.
These S-520s are the same units Bob Reina reviewed in 2005. Since then, they’ve lived in Manhattan and Brooklyn and have suffered one dramatic, slow motion fall that chipped the bottom corner on one. At the time of BJR’s review they cost $375/pair. They are now $479/pair. They used to be in Stereophile’s Recommended Components.
Powering the sparkly white horses is the Cambridge Audio Azur 540a integrated amplifier. It has five-inputs, runs 60 watts into 8 ohms and has bass and treble controls that I keep centered. The Cambridge Azur 540a is now discontinued, but it cost $379 at the time of purchase.
The “CD” input on the 540a gets constant loving from a bruised but functional Oppo DV-980H CD Player ($169/discontinued). Sometimes, the DV-980H refuses to eject the disc tray.
The “Aux” input drinks the nectar that is analog playback from a Rega P1 ($350/discontinued) equipped with a glass platter and blue felt mat and a brand new Rega RB101 tonearm and Audio Technica AT95E moving-magnet phono cartridge ($71). All of this runs into a Bellari VP129 phono preamp ($199/ discontinued). The phono setup has a mild level of noise that I can’t remove. It sounds like a bug zapper inside my tweeters. SM says a little noise is natural in any entry-level analog system.
It doesn’t seem to be a grounding noise. Per the Rega manual, the P1 can’t be grounded: “The arm earth (or ground) is automatically connected through the arm cable screening. No other earthing should be necessary.” Also, there is no low frequency hum typical of ground noise. I tried attaching a ground to a few metal extensions from the turntable. This did nothing. Because of this loathsome buzz, most listening on this test was done via my Oppo DV-980H CD Player unless otherwise indicated.
Oh, I nearly forgot my GE 3-5027 Personal Portable Recorder and Cassette Player.
Cables come from various sources: one pair of 10-foot, white-jacketed speaker cable from Belden terminated with locking banana plugs (around $75/purchased from Blue Jean Cable), unmarked unbalanced interconnects also from BJC (about $50), a Dynex unbalanced interconnect for the CD player, and a brand-less unbalanced female to 3.5mm male interconnect plugged into the Audioquest DragonFly DAC/Headphone Amp ($249.99) into a MacBook Pro.
With the new speaker positioning, my speaker wire is too short to reach the floor and wrap around the furniture on which the gear rests. Thus the speaker wire dangles ungracefully in mid-air from the amp to the speakers.
I purchased all of this gear except for the Dragonfly, which is a review sample.
Accuracy, Frequency Response, and Other Stuff
I started with the warble tones from Stereophile’s Editor’s Choice. A terrible rattling shook the sound during the midrange set. WTF? I followed the sound across the room to my speaker’s binding posts! Before the Belden speaker cable, I tried out some Trisonic speaker cable ($8/50 feet from my local hardware store). When I inserted the banana plugs from the Belden, I forgot to screw the binding posts all the way back down.
By my ears, the test tones revealed a fast roll-off at 50Hz, touch of warmth to the upper bass (100–160Hz), a mostly flat midrange, and a treble with a peak between 1.5khz—3.15khz and another around 5khz and fast roll-off starting at 10khz.
On first was The Harlem Sessions by my old band Swampluck, recorded in a cavernous loft space in Harlem with a pair of cheap condenser mics. The chicken-scratch guitar picking, hovering keyboard tones, and rich ambient information make it an excellent reference.
I noticed grit and hardness on Jordan Levinson’s vocals around 2k during “Lost Soul”. I blamed it on the microphones.
When I change the pickup on my Fender American Stratocaster at the start of second guitar solo of “Not Alone” to the bridge pickup, the extreme high frequency attack was stunted. The guitar tone had bite but focused more on the attack of the highs rather than the extension. This made my guitar sound more aggressive rather than expressive.
I tried a fairly compressed recording: “Bridge and Tunnel” by emo-folk rocker The Honorary Title. It popped with energy and prompted screaming along, but then, I heard the same hardness in vocals around 2k that I heard on Swampluck. Maybe it wasn’t the microphones.
On “In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3” by Coheed and Cambria, the choppy and chugging riffs were delivered with natural precision and nice weight to the guitars. Claudio Sanchez’s call to war, “Man your battle stations!” combined with the backing choir charged me up. With this dynamically compressed recording, my system maintained the music’s balls.
With an old home recording from my high school band Pigeon, my system accentuated hash already on the recording and revealed poor edits.
Geddy Lee’s bass on Farewell to Kings (LP) packed power falling within that upper bass boost. On The Gap Band’s “Season’s No Reason to Change” (Gap Band IV, LP), Robert Wilson’s bass notes extended cleanly and stopped firmly with his fingers keeping good time. His bass was moderately defined in instrumental tone.
Kick drums concurred that my system has no deep bass whatsoever, but kicks were still punchy and natural. Rather than get the body of the bass drum, you get the impact of the pedal against the drumhead. The system did not even get close to recreating the deep bass response needed for Shlohmo’s “Hot Boxing the Cockpit” (Spotify, 320kbps Ogg Vorbis) where bass synths were, at times, inaudible.
In casa de Bitran, bass is lacking in inner detail and low-frequency extension, but it is well controlled.
For the midrange, I first tested for colorations in brass. I heard nothing honky about the trombone solo in Diana Ross’s “I’m Coming Out”. The trombone could have been presented with more body. Its presence as an actual trombone was determined more by the player’s slides than the tone of the instrument. On the RX Bandits’ Progress, the horns seemed a touch lean. Edwin Starr’s “War” confirmed the slightly recessed midrange. Rather than be pushed by the body of the persistent horns, the music moved forward via a lively treble and peppy bass.
My test for midrange inner-detail is John Petrucci’s chord work on Dream Theater’s “Take the Time” where the multiple layers of distorted rock guitar should be represented by individual strings coming together, which it did not in my system. Instead, the chords came off in bursts of sound.
Don’t let the lack of inner detail to the midrange scare you. My system exhibited a startling liquidity within the midrange where notes could ease from one into the next. For example, on Brian Eno’s “In Dark Trees”, the clave attacks punctuated that darn lower treble but smooth guitar slides with generous sustain kept the flow of music natural.
Despite the peak in the lower treble, my system never came across as overly fast or etched. Attack was natural and friendly to pushing the pace of songs. The RX Bandits’ up-stroke ska rhythm guitars were quick. Slayer’s Kerry King and Jeff Hanneman’s solos on “Altar of Sacrifice” (Spotify, 320kbps Ogg Vorbis) raged with fire, and each note’s leading edge was heard but only grated slightly on the ears to the point of excitement rather than pain. I’m not sure what the guys in Slayer would have preferred.
Imaging
As I’ve described in previous blog posts, the Usher S520s are finicky with positioning ie establishing a solid center image with even extension of the soundstage to both sides.
The soundstage was narrow and flat, but instruments could be easily defined laterally. Everything was stable.
Attack, Release, Dynamics, and Bringing the Musicians to You
The naturally toned organ on “All Rwanda’s Glory” by the RX Bandits dropped out quickly with fast releases on the individual keys.
On Dave Matthews Band Live from Red Rocks, the dark and dramatic “Rhyme and Reason” was ballsy. Carter Beuford’s snare had POP, his kick drum had thud, and his tom-toms were visceral in terms of impact. At one point, woodwind master Leroi Moore and violinist Boyd Tinsley play a melodic line in sync, occasionally changing melodies from each other. While my system clearly defined the two instrumental lines within the mix, the lack of inner detail made it difficult to differentiate between the two players' instruments.
On David Grisman and Andy Statman’s Mandolin Abstractions as well as Sam Bush’s “Russian Rag”, I didn’t feel the short-stacked body of the mandolin behind each pluck, but I did get the sparkling tone and quick and exciting pacing. Similarly the “Acoustic Guitar Solo” on Stereophile Test CD 2 was short on body but had a nice bit of sunshine to the end of each strum and a percussive punch whenever the player slammed his wrist against the bridge.
When Bruno Walter conducted the Dvorak’s “New World Symphony” with the Columbia Symphony Orchestra (LP), dynamic range on the exciting Adagio was less than startling, but the system still spoke with power with each harmonic ascension. Yet, it seemed a bit strained. Strings were zizzy and brass was tacky. But then, the Largo started. I got chills. Solemnity and beauty. Within it, you see the sun rising and setting. Dynamics… who cares.
In the End
Rock recordings of all kinds generally sounded pretty damn exciting in my system. The rise in the treble and the upper bass gave the music energy while the liquid midrange kept the music flowing. Sometimes, my system would create a sparkling magic to the sounds. At other times, it came across a touch harsh. Most of the time it was well-controlled and forceful, but at the same time the soundstage is narrow, the dynamics are limited, and instruments lacked body and deep bass. Lean but punchy and a little tipped up, the system runs a touch cool. This is the system of a Stereophile employee.
Source : stereophile[dot]com
Creek 4240 Special Edition integrated amplifier
"Price point" designers (Arcam, Audible Illusions, Audio Alchemy, Creek, Grado) who have built their reputations by placing all of their designs under very stringent cost constraints. The presumption is that they target serious music lovers of modest financial means.
"Trickle-down" designers (eg, Alón, Audio Research, Cary, MIT, VPI) have made their marks by designing breakthrough designs whose cost considerations take a back seat to sound quality, and, in extreme cases, may be ignored entirely. Reputations thus established, these designers seek to expand their markets by applying their fundamental design philosophies—and the magic of their pricey designs—within a more cost-constrained context.
Unlike most equipment reviewers, who begin by reviewing budget gear and go up in price as their experience grows, I've moved in the opposite direction. Although I play with the big-bucks boys, as a reviewer I prefer to seek out inexpensive gear that sets new standards at low price points.
This accomplishes two objectives: It locates components that enable a higher level of performance at any given cost constraint, and it brings more people into the hobby, by sending the message that this is not solely a rich man's sport. (Today, $2500 can buy better sound than $5000 did five years ago, or $10,000 did 10 years ago.) My greatest joy as a reviewer is to put together a modestly priced system for a friend and watch the smile on her face as she plays through her music collection as if hearing the stuff for the first time. Which brings me to...
Creek
Roy Hall of Music Hall in Great Neck, New York, is Creek's US distributor and is also part-owner. Hall's rooms at past Stereophile and CE Shows reveal his strategy of bringing very-low-cost serious British high-end gear into the US. At every show I've attended, Music Hall has achieved some of the best sound using some of the least expensive components. Creek electronics were always in use. (They also make CD players, and for a while sold a cute little bookshelf speaker.)
My first experience with a Mike Creek design was with the 4140s2 integrated amplifier I reviewed in 1990 (Sounds Like... No.8, footnote 1). This $550 40W unit (which included a killer low-output moving-coil phono stage, no less) impressed me so much that I purchased it, and I've used it in my lowest-price reference system ever since.
For its price at the time, the 4140s2 was an incredibly detailed, dynamic, and fairly neutral unit whose sonic performance and parts'n'construction quality hinted at a much higher price. The 4140s2's magic was in the way it put the music together (rather than analyzing it or picking it apart) to convey a realistic, involving musical experience. The British mags would call this "following the tune," and the American undergrounds would term it "spectral and temporal coherency." The bass extension and speed on this baby (read: lots of current produced into real speaker loads) was killer. On the minus side, images on the soundstage were rather two-dimensional, with limited stage depth, and the lower high frequencies had a slightly metallic, etched quality—this amp wasn't a good match for speakers with bright tweeters.
In 1989, Creek was sold to TGI (Tannoy/Mordaunt Short); shortly thereafter, Mike Creek left the company. Roy Hall, Creek, and Creek's European distributor bought the company back from TGI in 1993, after which the entire Creek line was revamped. The 4240 integrated amplifier, which replaced the 4140s2 in 1993, was the first Mike Creek design released under the new ownership.
When the 4240's first production unit entered the country, Wes Phillips and I visited Roy Hall's home to compare the new amplifier with the 4140s2 and to meet the designer. During this delightful evening (wherein Roy served a 1988 Tignanello to accompany takeout pizza—the man has his priorities straight), the comparison was enlightening. Although I'm reluctant to comment on comparisons made with unfamiliar systems, this listening session convinced me that the 4240 had achieved new levels of body, palpability, and realism, which the earlier amp had lacked. It also seemed as if the lower high-frequency edge had been scotched.
Enter the 4240
The only way to be sure was to get one of those suckers into my reference system posthaste; I was fortunate to receive one of the early review samples. My listening sessions confirmed a natural and refined quality that I normally associate with expensive tube amplifiers. Rather than the forward, etched quality of its predecessor, the 4240 eased me into the music gently and let its holographic timbres wash over me. Unfortunately, the bass was inferior to the 4140s2, as the midbass on down had a thick, rounded quality—not objectionable, but clearly a step backward.
All in all, however, the new amp was far superior, and the minor bass tradeoff was well worth the integrated result. As I prepared my review (The Abso!ute Sound, Issue 100), I wondered to what extent other reviewers would share my enthusiasm. It turned out my view was in the minority, as both Corey Greenberg (Stereophile, July 1994), and Rob Doorack (Listener, Issue 2, Spring 1995) issued negative press on the 4240, implying that Mike Creek had taken a step backward. To paraphrase these gentlemen, the 4240 lacked the excitement and drive of the earlier unit. It was too laid-back. It was boring.
I can only scratch my head and conclude that these gentlemen like a more exciting than real presentation; one enhanced by the etched lower high frequencies of the 4140s2. But to my ears, naturalness rules; the Creek 4240 presented a much more convincing sonic transcription of the live musical event than did its predecessor.
Which brings us to the matter at hand. Before revamping its lineup, Creek marketed a top-of-the-line integrated amp, the 6060. At nearly double the price of the 4140s2, it basically provided a high-power option for those who liked the sound of the 4140s2, wanted more than 40W, and didn't want to make the jump to separates. I was perplexed, and had begun to think the company was ignoring a key potential market segment, when I learned that Creek's new management had no interest in introducing a replacement for the 6060. In 1995 Creek did introduce the P42 and A42 preamp/amp combo, which offered, at 50Wpc, a higher-powered Creek option.
Don't you deserve something special?
Creek has now finally introduced a higher-power integrated amplifier, the 4240 Special Edition, at a price of $800. Externally, the only difference between the special edition and the standard 4240 is the gold lettering on its faceplate (Creek traditionally uses green). The functions of the two units are identical: five inputs, including an auxiliary input which can be converted to phono by purchasing an additional moving-magnet ($50) or moving-coil board ($95). The simply–laid-out unit sports volume and balance controls, and a headphone jack. For those who wish to complement the amp with additional electronics in a more elaborate system, both preamp-out and amplifier-in jacks are provided.
The Special Edition also includes the most annoying feature I've seen on any piece of electronics, one shared by the entire Creek line: Deltron speaker connections in the back of the amp. These wonderful little jacks mate with Deltron males, which actually seem to provide a better connection than typical five-way binding posts. The problem is, they're incompatible with most American connections. The Deltron jacks do accept banana plugs or "fat bananas"—which I understand Music Hall sells—but are incompatible with the spade lugs and bare wire commonly used in the US low-cost electronics market. Of course, Music Hall dealers will be happy to custom-terminate wires for customers, but then the wires will have compatibility problems with other gear.
I found all this highly annoying: I tried to hook up a new pair of speakers, and found I had three sets of speaker cable custom-terminated with these stupid plugs. They therefore could not be mated with the screw terminals and Edison Price Music Posts on the back of my Audio Research and Cary amps, respectively. You'd think Creek/Music Hall would have realized by now that their segment of the market, more than any other, is driven by convenience.
Open ze box, and the upgrades on the Special Edition are obvious. What Mike Creek has done is replace the output devices and toroidal transformer of the 4240 with those of the 50W A42 basic amplifier. In addition, some minor parts upgrades have been performed on the preamp section, including the addition of a silky high-quality ALPS pot for the volume control. The SE retains the DC-coupled pre- and power-amp sections of the original 4240, as well as the lack of capacitors in the signal path.
Footnote 1: Robert Harley reviewed the 4140s2 for Stereophile in September 1989, Vol.12 No.9.— John Atkinson
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Source : stereophile[dot]com
B.M.C. Phono MCCI phono preamplifier
The Aqvox's designer was a hired gun: Carlos Candeias. Now he's back, this time with the Phono MCCI balanced phono preamplifier ($3890), another current-input design, and this time with his own brand. Candeias founded B.M.C. Audio GmbH in 2009, to design (in Germany), build (in China), and market (worldwide) his creations, including the Audio Amplifier C1 integrated amplifier, which I reviewed in the May 2012 issue.
The Phono MCCI is built to a far higher, more complex standard than the Aqvox, and is MC only. Like the other B.M.C. electronic components, it sports a large, round something at the center of its front panel. On the C1, that something is a power meter; on the Phono MCCI, it's a big On/Off switch. The user can adjust little on the MCCI, so the controls are simple: On/Off, Mute, front-panel Dim—that's it. Well, not exactly. A plethora of internal jumpers is found inside; more about them shortly.
The basic difference between the Phono MCCI and virtually all other phono preamps is its current-injection input, which takes advantage of an MC cartridge's very low impedance, its inherent current-generating capabilities, and its balanced, floating-ground architecture.
Instead of a traditional voltage-gain stage, the Phono MCCI's input stage is a current-to-voltage converter. According to the Candeias, the cartridge directly injects its current into a system of "balanced DC currents," creating an amplified output voltage. The resulting amplified voltage is claimed be made "directly of the original cartridge's current" with virtually no loss, and certainly less loss than is claimed for any voltage-gain circuit.
While a few other designers of phono preamplifiers have used a similar idea, Candeias claims that they use an op-amp or similar circuit to simulate, via a feedback loop, the required low-impedance input.
The CI circuit is different
The B.M.C. Phono MCCI's Current Injection input circuit uses a variation of a common-base or grounded-base topology often used in microphone preamplifiers, where the input is applied to the emitter of a bipolar transistor. This sort of circuit turns out to be equally useful for MC cartridges and is said to produce ultrawide bandwidth and very little noise.
Because the an MC cartridge's source impedance and the phono preamplifier's input impedance determine the current produced, cartridges with a surprisingly wide range of voltage outputs can be used. While a high-output MC generates a higher voltage, its higher impedance results in reduced current output. So despite wide variations in voltage output among MC cartridges, the Phono MCCI's input stage can deal with many of them, including high-output MCs with outputs similar to those of typical MM cartridges.
The Phono MCCI's entire signal chain consists of two very short, fully balanced gain stages with zero feedback. Because the second gain stage sees a relatively high voltage from the current-to-voltage stage, it's easier to correctly implement than one required to deal with the ultralow MC cartridge voltage output. And because there's no global-feedback loop, RIAA equalization is accomplished passively in two stages decoupled from one another. The first pole is in the current-to-voltage stage, while the second is part of the second voltage-gain stage.
Carlos Candeias claims that this sort of circuit has the advantages of passive and active equalization, minus the disadvantages of either. You can choose either the standard RIAA equalization curve or the controversial Neumann-corrected version preferred by Candeias, though not by John Atkinson and others (footnote 1).
The Phono MCCI's output stage is a fully balanced, Load Effect Free (LEF), single-ended, class-A design similar to what Candeias uses in his B.M.C. C1 integrated amplifier. The claimed advantage of the circuit, when applied to a single-ended class-A design, is that it avoids distortion by allowing the transistors to work only within their linear operating range.
The class-A balanced circuit is said to widely reject even-order distortion, and Candeias claims that because it presents the power supply with a consistent load, the musical signal does not modulate the power supply. In addition, the balanced design rejects common-mode power-supply disturbances. Because the input uses current instead of an MC cartridge's ultralow voltage, the input impedance is very low, less than 3 ohms. There is no need, therefore to damp the cartridge's ultrasonic resonance with energy-destroying resistors in parallel with the input.
The Phono MCCI's high-quality parts include: 10 ultralow-noise transistors in parallel for each "functional group"; "balanced-current" capacitors; inductance-free polystyrene capacitors; thin-film metal resistors with 0.5% tolerance; fully gold-plated, four-layer printed circuit boards; and a shield of copper-plated iron.
The insides of the Phono MCCI look impressive by any standard, but particularly for the price. And inside is where you'll have to go to find the various jumpers that let you select among three levels of gain (Low, High, and Very High, standard or Neumann RIAA, a subsonic filter, and Low End Corrections consisting of Linear, Bass Boost, and Bass Boost and Warmer Sound. More about these below.
Mono cartridges with common grounds need not apply, RCA-to-XLR adapters not recommended
While all of these design features sound ideal, we don't live in an ideal world. I can't speak to the possible technical disadvantages of a current-injection circuit, but the practical ones became apparent as soon as I opened the B.M.C. Phono MCCI's owner's manual.
The manual is clumsily translated from the German, with syntax sure to flummox many. It would be relatively easy to rewrite for easier comprehension and better flow; and given the many danger cautions given, clarity is of utmost importance. The main caution is that you must maintain "ground free" connections from your turntable. The shield must not be connected to any of the four cartridge wires. That means that Rega Research turntables (and Rega's separate tonearms) will need the ground connection broken between the arm and the cartridge's blue "earth" pin.
Footnote 1: For a thorough discussion of this, see Keith Howard's " Cut and Thrust: RIAA LP Equalization" in the March 2009 issue. Even if your eyes begin to glaze over, stay with it until you get to the sidebar on the so-called "Neumann 4th pole," which is easier to understand. (If I can understand it, anyone can.)
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Source : stereophile[dot]com
Steve Coleman and the Five Elements
Coleman, 56, is a fascinating figure in modern jazz. Born and raised in Chicago, he moved to Brooklyn in the late '70s, apprenticed in several top big bands (ranging from Thad Jones' to Sam Rivers'), and linked up with a group of other young Brooklyn musicians—including Greg Osby, Graham Haynes, Geri Allen and Cassandra Wilson—who formed a movement of sorts that they called M-Base, short for "micro-basic array of structured extemporization," which explored new and conceptually rigorous ways of fusing improvisation and structure. Over the years, Coleman also traveled extensively in India, delved deep in music theory, and recorded over a dozen albums with a band he calls Five Elements.
I find most of these albums more intriguing than satisfying—more schematic exercises than transcendent musical experiences. But Functional Arrythmias is a breakthrough. Coleman molds his music by shifting patterns—rhythmic, harmonic, melodic—but it all jells more than usual. He and his band make it swing. The album's tunes, all composed by Coleman, are sonic kaleidoscopes, bursting with movement and color.
The title, he explains in the liner notes, refers to the interactions of heartbeat rhythms and contrapuntal nerve impulses that operate in the multiple layers and cascading connections of the human body. He's long been influenced by the great drummer Milford Graves, who has done serious research in the biological basis of music, and with Functional Arrythmias is the rare Coleman album that isn't merely about this idea but embodies it. It's what the elder jazz giant named Coleman, Ornette, once described as "dancing in your head."
The band consists of Coleman's longtime collaborator, trumpeter Jonathan Finlayson, as well as the returning members of an earlier band, bassist Anthony Tidd and drummer Sean Rickman, joined, on a few tracks, by guitarist Miles Okazaki. The music is dense with crisscrossing lines, but there's not a second when they're not all locked in tight, pulsating tandem.
The sound—engineered by Joseph Marciano at Brooklyn's Systems Two, except for a few tracks done by Paul Geluso at NYU, all of it mixed and mastered by the guitarist-producer Liberty Ellman—is sharp, vivid, full-blooded, and nicely layered.
Source : stereophile[dot]com
Payday Albums: 7/26/13 & 8/23/13
Julianna Barwick's new album, Nepenthe, is available now. Photo: Shawn Brackbill.
I’ve been so happily preoccupied with my review of NAD’s new D 3020 integrated amplifier that I’ve again fallen behind on my “Payday Albums” posts. My review of the D 3020 will appear in our November issue. I used many of the albums listed below as demo material for that review.
It’s been a seriously great time.
Payday Albums: 7/26/13
Mayer Hawthorne: Where Does this Door Go (CD, Republic Records)
We had been planning a feature on Mayer Hawthorne, to be published in our October issue, but it fell through. At around the same time, I began seeing ads for the Hawthorne’s album, Where Does this Door Go, everywhere, so I became curious. Two things set me over the top: Pharrell Williams’ involvement as co-producer and Kendrick Lamar’s guest verse on the single, “Crime.”
My initial response was more or less positive, but I still haven’t given this album much of a chance. I need to come back to it.
Zomby: With Love (LP, 4AD)
Ah, Zomby. I pretty much love everything this guy does. His sound is dark, distinct, and troubled. It always gets my attention. I wish, though, that there were more variation overall and that individual tracks were more fully formed. Some of these pieces feel like sketches and Zomby seems to have no problem just throwing stuff out there—it’s almost as though he has a certain disregard, or lack of respect, for his own work—but, even as sketches, these pieces are captivating.
And, somehow, as much as the individual pieces feel incomplete, the whole feels epic.
Boards of Canada: Tomorrow’s Harvest (LP, Warp Records)
Honestly, I don’t know much about Boards of Canada, except that they are almost universally respected by critics and adored by their fans. The fact that this is their first full-length release since 2005, and that it came as such a surprise to so many, made it feel even more important. I haven’t listened to it yet, though.
Daft Punk: “Get Lucky” (12” LP single, Columbia)
My ongoing affair with Daft Punk’s brilliant Random Access Memories continues with this 12-inch single for the smash hit, “Get Lucky.” Included here is the album version, a radio edit, and, especially great for parties, an extended remix.
Jay-Z: Magna Carta Holy Grail (CD, Roc-A-Fella Records/RocNation)
In stark contrast to Kanye West’s Yeezus, release just two weeks prior to Magna Carta Holy Grail, Jay-Z’s latest is luxuriously packaged and looks, feels, and sounds thoroughly and thoughtfully considered.
I had no idea that this album was coming out, or even in the works, until a day before its release, when I saw a Samsung advertisement that aired on network television. The album was made available as a free digital download for Samsung customers, via smartphone app, on July 4, and released for retail sale four days later by Roc-A-Fella and Roc Nation.
The unusual marketing strategy was a success, I guess. The album was certified platinum on the day it was released.
There are some seriously cheesy songs here, but there are also a lot of interesting beats. And, every now and then, Jay-Z drops a series of lines that completely dazzle. Overall, the production is very good. I desperately wish, though, that Jay-Z would look beyond himself, beyond his own failures and successes, for lyrical inspiration. I’m especially tired of hearing about his collection of cars and paintings.
Wale: The Gifted (CD, Atlantic Records)
The second I heard the hit single, “Bad,” which uses a creaky bedspring for a rhythm track (Why hadn’t anyone thought of that before?), I needed to learn more about Wale. Turns out, he’s a Nigerian-American rapper from Washington, DC, and The Gifted is his third full-length release.
The horrible album art was almost enough to drive me away, but I gave in when Ms. Little fell even harder for “Bad” than I. And I’m glad I did because this album has brought me more pure happiness than any other on this list. It’s fun, smart, expertly produced, invokes classic rock and soul while placing its lyrical focus on modern topics, and is filled with the sort of big, infectious choruses that beg spontaneous sing-alongs.
Payday Albums: 8/23/13
Anna von Hausswolff: Ceremony (LP, Other Music Recording Co.)
Born September 6, 1986, in Gothenburg, Sweden, Anna Michaela Ebba Electra von Hausswolff is a singer, songwriter, and pianist. On this, her second full length album, she plays pipe organ and often displays her own soaring pipes.
When I heard the lovely single, “Mountains Crave,” which successfully employs pipe organ as a pop-music instrument, I made a note of Hausswolff’s name and waited patiently for the album’s release. North American listeners had to wait until July 9th to hear Ceremony, but the album was actually released last year in Europe, where it was exceptionally well-received, earning nominations for two Swedish Grammys and the Nordic Music Prize. It’s hard to imagine an album of this nature winning such praise in the US, where creaky bedsprings and Samsung promos rule, but it certainly deserves the attention. Ceremony, like Loud City Song and Nepenthe (below), strikes me as an uncommonly beautiful and distinct work. Incidentally, Anna von Hausswolff is the daughter of sound artist Carl Michael von Hausswolff. Thanks to Other Music for bringing her to our homes.
Marina Rosenfeld: P.A./Hard Love (LP, ROOM40)
Another deep and fascinating album from Lawrence English’s Room40 label, P.A./Hard Love finds sound artist Marina Rosenfeld collaborating with virtuoso cellist Okkyung Lee and dancehall vocalist Warrior Queen. An unlikely but successful marriage of musical and artistic elements—intriguing, nearly impossible to categorize, and not at all as academic as it sounds on paper. More than anything else, these songs sound like dancehall tracks from outer space. Pretty awesome.
Van Dyke Parks: Songs Cycled (LP, Bella Union)
Nothing much to say here except that when Van Dye Parks releases an album, buying it seems like the right thing to do. Great album title and cover art, too.
Earl Sweatshirt: Doris (CD, Columbia)
It sounds like 1990s gangsta rap slowed down to a crawl—thick, dense, and sluggish—while Earl lets impossibly long strings of words fall from his mouth. Like his father, Keorapetse Kgositsile (Bra Willie), Earl’s a poet. You’ll hear beginning rhyme, end rhyme, tons of internal rhyme—all with endless twists and turns.
After only a couple of listens, I find the music somewhat dull, but the words and flow are impossible to ignore. I’ll keep listening.
Julianna Barwick: Nepenthe (LP, Dead Oceans)
Vocalist Julianna Barwick traveled from Brooklyn to Iceland, where she wrote, recorded, and produced this album with Alex Somers of Sigur Ros. Though I would still love to hear more straightforward songs from Barwick, Nepenthe is as beautiful as anything she’s previously released, but sounds far more focused, considered, and fully realized.
Julia Holter: Loud City Song (LP, Domino Recording Co.)
Loud City Song is Julia Holter’s third full-length release, but first to be recorded in a proper studio. It sounds it, too—polished, mature, and determined. You can read more about it now, at AudioStream, and check out my review in our upcoming October issue. I think you’ll like this one. A lot.
Source : stereophile[dot]com
Nothing More than Lights in a Box
"When it comes to video, most audiophiles are insufferable snobs."—J. Gordon Holt, 1984
Those who have followed the arguments between audiophiles and home-theater enthusiasts in the pages of Stereophile—I lifted the Murrow quote from a 1996 battle between Steve Guttenberg (representing the former community) and Joel Silver (representing the latter)—will have no doubt over which side of the argument I am on. As I wrote in our March 1993 issue, recorded music is a "hot" medium in Marshall McLuhan's terminology—divergent, with infinite potential—whereas movies are "cold": convergent, what you see is what you get.
I had written that 1993 essay, "I Say It's Television," in response to the many people I had encountered at that year's Winter Consumer Electronics Show who had told me that Stereophile's survival would depend on whether or not we started reviewing video and home-theater components. This was a view shared by Stereophile founder J. Gordon Holt, who responded to my thoughts in our June 1993 issue with an essay, "I Say It's Video." And, as you can see in the 40th-anniversary article I wrote on the magazine's history, the ever-prescient Gordon had devoted Issue No.8 of Stereophile, published in 1964, to home theater!
Gordon was careful to define "video" as being different from "television"—as being "original, uncut movies for people who don't like what's happened to [movie] theaters." The success of the DVD medium seems to have borne his prescience out. And while Stereophile continued to thrive despite—or, more likely, because of—its devotion to two-channel music reproduction, in January 1995 we launched a companion publication, Stereophile Guide to Home Theater.
Initially an annual the same size as its parent, the Guide, as everyone involved in its creation referred to it, went to publishing quarterly in January 1996, then to 10 issues a year in January 1998 with a bigger page size, lavish use of photography, and a crack team of editors and writers, including columnists Joel Brinkley and Michael Fremer, as well as Thomas J. Norton, erstwhile technical editor of Stereophile. (Tom remains unchallenged as a writer on home theater, in my view, by penning the lion's share of a 10-piece, 41-page special report on the then-new DVD medium in the Guide's Winter 1997 issue, a report I still refer to when I need to look up something about the medium.)
Stereophile Guide to Home Theater celebrated its 10th anniversary in January 2005, but not, however, under that name. When Stereophile, Inc. was sold to Petersen Publishing in 1998, its publications ended up as stablemates to Home Theater magazine, which also celebrated its first decade of continuous publication in January. It should be obvious that the potential for name confusion among Stereophile, Stereophile Guide to Home Theater, and Home Theater was significant, and it's fair to say that, despite the quality of its content, the Guide was overshadowed by its more widely distributed siblings. A now departed Primedia VP took the difficult decision to bring the confusion to an end by renaming the Guide. From its June 2004 issue onward, it was published as Ultimate AV, a title that reflected its high-end leanings compared with the more populist Home Theater (footnote 1).
The next step in the book's evolution was to migrate to the Web. The January 2005 issue of Ultimate AV was the last published on paper. As editor Tom Norton explained in his first online "Viewpoints" essay, "As I've surfed the popular audio, video, and home theater Internet destinations over the past few years, it has become more and more apparent that the AV hobbyist's first choice for information is now the Web, not print. In a world where the largest expenses of producing a magazine are the Big Three (Printing, Paper, and Postage)—none of which add anything to the actual information conveyed—finding a way to eliminate those costs and still provide the same service, or better, is a no-brainer."
While I think the decision to take Ultimate AV was the right decision for that publication, it is increasingly hard these days to define a publishing venture in terms of what media it appears on. Stereophile will continue to take advantage of what both the Web and the world of print have to offer. I don't think of our website, or our enewsletter, or the print magazine, or the Home Entertainment Show (footnote 2), or even my Stereophile recordings, as separate entities. They are all manifestations of the core concept that is "Stereophile," each attuned to its own medium. You might read something in our daily online CES coverage or in our e-newsletter, but the continuation of that thought may well appear in a Web item, be commented on in the paper magazine six weeks later, with then further thoughts appearing in the website's Forum or the print equivalent, our "Letters" column, finally to be archived on the website.
In a sense, everything that appears in any of the ephemeral media is merely fuel for the passion that underpins any successful publishing venture.
This essay was triggered by a day I spent at the end of March hanging out with Tom Norton, following some corporate meetings in which we had both been involved at Primedia's Los Angeles office. When we both lived in Santa Fe, going to Tom's to see a movie in his built-from-scratch, state-of-the-art home theater had been a weekly weekend treat. But now that Tom lives in the San Fernando Valley and I live in God's own borough of Brooklyn, I see movies primarily at our local sticky-floored multiplex. Tom's current house is not as lavishly appointed as his New Mexico house had been, but his room is well-proportioned and acoustically treated, and to say I was bowled over by the quality of his system is an understatement.
Other than the projector, a Fujitsu LPF-D711 LCD, Tom's system was not outrageously expensive. The speakers were all from Revel's Performa series: F32s left and right, C32 center, B15 subwoofer, and a pair of M22 "bookshelf" monitors on stands for surround duties. (This system was reviewed in the December 2004 UAV.) The receiver was a Sony STR-DA9000ES, the DVD player a Marantz DV8400, and the screen a 16:9 Screen Research ClearPix2 with an 80"-wide (not diagonal) image. The cables from receiver to the front speakers were Monster M2.2s (single-wired), with older Monster THX cables (also single-wired) serving the surrounds.
Whether it was the visual and sonic outrageousness of The Incredibles or the understated Kate and Leopold, there was a righteousness to the presentation in Tom's system. No, I am not going to abandon music in favor of movies. But finally I comprehend the passion that drives a videophile like Tom and that underpins his magazine.—John Atkinson
Footnote 1: Sadly, the Ultimate AV website was folded into Home Theater magazine's website in August 2010. However, Tom Norton continues to contribute to Home Theater, which itself is being merged with Sound & Vision magazine with its October 2013 issue.
Footnote 2: Following the sale of Primedia's specialty magazines to Source Interlink in 2007, it was decided to cease promoting audio shows. The May 2007 event was our last.
Source : stereophile[dot]com
The Great Wall of China
I wouldn't usually mention an internal and inconsequential matter like this if it weren't for the fact that the day Keith and I had our altercation, the news broke about another magazine editor, who doesn't appear to share my reticence about crossing the "Chinese Wall" between a magazine's editorial and advertising sides. In fact, according to an August 6, 2006 report in the Orange Country Register, the longtime editor of Fanfare, Joel Flegler, doesn't just cross the wall, he leaps over it.
In a July 19 blog, the OCR's classical music reporter, Tim Mangan, had reprinted a letter Flegler had sent to an independent record company that was inquiring about review coverage in Fanfare. Flegler had proposed a quid pro quo: that while his magazine might review the CD in any case, a way to guarantee publication would be for the company to buy advertising space. Flegler's letter included a list of what ads of various sizes would cost and suggested that the more money the record company spent on advertising in Fanfare, the more editorial about them could be published—such as an interview with one of their artists.
It is important to note that Flegler had not promised the record company positive coverage, something confirmed by a couple of Fanfare reviewers in the blog discussion. But without the company buying advertising in Fanfare, Flegler would not give reviewing the CD "top priority" in the publication queue. And, as Mangan said, "So what? An editorial decision had already been made, before the review."
I agree with Mangan that such a direct connection between editorial coverage and the purchase of advertising renders a magazine's content "worthless." I am ashamed that Flegler and I both put "magazine editor" down on our job descriptions.
I wouldn't usually write about a matter such as this. I feel that magazines should not take public potshots at one another. But I have received questions from Stereophile readers asking about this practice, suggesting that if Fanfare's editor has no qualms about trading review coverage for advertising, then how can they be sure I don't? Such accusations are hardly new. In a Manufacturers' Comments" letter published in our December 1989 issue, responding to a 1989 review (recently posted in our free online archives), Waveform's JohnÖtvös had whined that the negative comments we had made about the sound of his speaker and the measured problems I had found owed more to the fact that Waveform wasn't an advertiser than to anything real. Which was as much BS then as it would be now.
I have written many times in Stereophile about the separation between our editorial decisions and the presence or absence of advertising. (See, for example, my March 1996 essay, "The Great Wall of China.") I assure you that that separation has survived many management changes at Stereophile. "We are on the same team," Keith had reminded me in his e-mail, and in a wider sense he is correct. But I play primarily for the editorial team, which is, I believe, why on October 2 I am about to celebrate 24 years, without a break, of successfully editing audio magazines. [This was written seven years ago at the time of reposting to www.stereophile.com; on October 2, 2013, I will be celebrating the the start of my 33rd year at the editorial helm of an audio magazine.—JA]
But don't take my word for that separation. Look at the evidence. If I gave Flegler's "top priority" to reviews of products made or distributed by advertisers, that would be readily evident from an analysis of our coverage. Here is such an analysis:
I added up how many products had received more than a nominal mention in Stereophile— ie, products that had been written about in a formal equipment report, a Follow-Up report, or in a column by Sam Tellig, Mikey Fremer, Art Dudley, Kal Rubinson, or John Marks—between October 2005 and April 2006. I split the list into current advertisers in Stereophile and non-advertisers.
The results: 42 products reviewed were from advertisers, 48 from non-advertisers. So if anything, we favor non-advertisers when choosing what to write about.
However, if there are very many more non-advertisers than advertisers, and if we chose a representative selection of audio products from both groups, this means that reviews of products from advertisers should be much fewer in number than reviews of products from non-advertisers, instead of only slightly fewer. How do these statistics look when examined in that light?
We are in the processing of compiling our 2007 Buyer's Guide, due to be published in November 2006, which excludes by intention audio products intended for home theater and architectural use that we don't cover in the monthly magazine. The database we have compiled over the past four years of companies that manufacture products eligible for review in Stereophile lists 363 separate brands. Inevitably but regrettably, some brands get omitted. So let's say that the set of brands eligible for review in Stereophile is 370 at maximum, but probably less, given that we list brands in the Buyer's Guide that don't have the necessary five dealers to qualify for a review.
I don't track advertising in Stereophile, so I asked Keith Pray for a list of active advertisers; ie, brands that had been advertised in Stereophile in the past 18 months. That total is 120, not including brands that had advertised only once, which would require rather a deeper dip into the database than he had time for. Let's assume that including those onetime advertisers would increase the total number of brands currently advertising in Stereophile to 150.
The results:
Number of advertisers as proportion of eligible brands: 40%
Proportion of advertised brands featured in Stereophile reviews: 47%
Number of non-advertisers as proportion of eligible brands: 60%
Proportion of non-advertised brands featured in Stereophile reviews: 53%
So, in the worst case, there is a slight bias in favor of advertisers, in that instead of 40% of the products we choose for review coming from advertisers, the proportion is actually 47%. But you don't have to accuse me of "pulling a Flegler" to explain the 7% disparity. There are many other factors involved. The set of companies that advertise in Stereophile has high correlations with: the set of companies that have a high profile in the marketplace; the set of companies that have been in existence for 10 or more years; and the set of companies whose products have been favorably reviewed previously, not just in Stereophile but in all audio magazines, and are thus more successful in the long term. Such companies also exhibit more regularly at Consumer Electronics Shows and have a higher profile at dealers, and are thus more likely to have their products auditioned by Stereophile's reviewers when they are trying to decide what to write about in future issues.
The effects of these factors are impossible to predict, but I believe it is fair to point out that they will diminish the slight correlation noted above. Which, again, arose from looking at the raw data in the worst possible light for Stereophile.
Normal service can now resume, now that I have shown that "The Great Wall of China" is in a state of good repair at this magazine.
Source : stereophile[dot]com
JBL 250Ti loudspeaker
Once upon a time, in audio's infancy, anyone who wanted better than average sound—average sound during the 1940s being rich, boomy and dull—had no choice but to buy professional loudspeakers. In those days, "professional" meant one of two things: movie-theater speakers or recording-studio speakers. Both were designed, first and foremost, to produce high sound levels, and used horn loading to increase their efficiency and project the sound forwards. They sounded shockingly raw and harsh in the confines of the typical living room (footnote 1). When high fidelity took off during the early '50s, consumer loudspeaker systems were nothing more than cheaper, scaled-down versions of those professional systems, with much the same sonic flavor but even rougher highs. Then, in 1956, Edgar Villchur patented a new kind of speaker system designed specifically for consumer use.
Recognizing the fact that, in the home, bass extension was more important than efficiency, Villchur's "acoustic suspension" system achieved tremendous LF extension by (among other things) reducing mid- and upper-range sensitivity to match the system's bass sensitivity. By comparison with professional speakers, Villchur's AR-1 had a muted, almost withdrawn middle and upper range, which was far more pleasant to listen to in small rooms. It also launched high fidelity loudspeaker design on a tangent from "pro" sound, and independent evolution in those divergent directions has made the two increasingly different since then. While professional systems grew ever more efficient and forward, so-called audiophile speakers became more laid-back, polite. (Our Bill Sommerwerck dubbed this kind of sound "Boston bland," in honor of its place of origin.) The greater the schism, the more the audiophile community sneered at the "brashness" of professional speaker systems (footnote 2).
But that brashness has proven to be exactly what's needed for music normally heard at very high levels, such as hard rock. The result has been the evolution of two distinctly different kinds of "audiophile" speaker systems: highly efficient, up-front systems for rock enthusiasts, and the laid-back, "polite" systems with exaggerated depth and spaciousness favored by many classical listeners and most audio perfectionists.
Enter JBL
One of the leading manufacturers of professional speakers during the '40s was a firm called Altec Lansing. The Lansing part of the name belonged to a young engineer named James B., who parted company with Altec to form his own firm, JBL. Through the years, JBL has always tried for high efficiency and a forward, gutsy sound in their consumer line, thus earning the undying scorn of all audio perfectionists, who consider "JBL" synonymous with sonic trash. This never bothered JBL as long as "high end" was a mental aberration afflicting only a miniscule part of the population. The masses preferred JBL's kind of sound.
But two developments in the past three years have prompted JBL to reconsider their public image. First, the masses discovered the snob appeal of the High End, and learned from the purists that liking the sound of JBL speakers was—well, it just wasn't done! And second, JBL recognized that digital recordings, whose lack of surface noise is an invitation to play them at high volume, put their own products at a decided advantage over those of most audiophile manufacturers. JBLs could play loudly without burning out; most audiophile loudspeakers can't. The Ti Series of loudspeakers is JBL's bid for a new image—respectability.
The Ti in the 250Ti's model designation stands for titanium; some techniques JBL developed for working with this tricky metal made their new tweeters possible. Titanium has an extremely high mass-to-stiffness ratio. A very thin sheet of it has enough stiffness to behave very much like the ideal piston radiator, with its entire surface area moving in unison. But its stiffness also makes it very brittle, and likely to split when subjected to the kind of forming processes necessary to produce an effective radiating surface. JBL claims to have found a solution, and has even found a way of embossing a pattern of diamond-shaped ribs into the surface of the tweeter dome to increase its stiffness. The result is the new tweeter which shows up on the high end of all their new speaker systems, the 440Ti.
The cone drivers in the 250Ti are described in JBL's literature as "evolutionary rather than revolutionary," which is to say, they're the latest improved versions of earlier designs. But it's obvious that JBL has done their homework.
For example, this is the first time JBL has used polypropylene as a cone material for their midrange drivers, even though most high-end speaker manufacturers have favored it for some years. But JBL's is not the usual polyprope material; it's "doped" with an additive that increases its stiffness and reduces breakup. (One of the recognized shortcomings of polypropylene is that it is too flexible for its own good; its popularity stems mainly from its high internal damping, which minimizes colorations due to resonance.)
These are also the first speakers from JBL whose large crossover capacitors are bypassed by small ones, reducing the effects of dielectric absorption. This is strict perfectionism, but JBL ascertained to their own satisfaction that bypassing did, in fact, improve the sound. The other characteristics of the 250Ti—the very high power-handing ability, the long-throw woofer (5/8" displacement within 10% linearity!), and the rigid enclosure construction—are pretty much old hat; they've been earmarks of JBL products for many years.
Sonics
I have never much cared for most aspects of the traditional JBL sound: boomy midbass, shallow soundstage, vague imaging, lack of deep bass or really high highs, and (often) piercingly shrill middle highs. But I have always admired their midrange performance. Whether it was their professional or consumer lines, JBL's speakers always had a punchiness and detailed immediacy, an ability to make a voice or a solo instrument sound right in the room, that has not been equalled by any audiophile speakers I know of. "Wouldn't it be great," I thought, "if JBL has retained that middle-range performance, and just augmented it with state-of-the-art performance in those other areas?" I should have known better!
JBL did their homework, all right. In their bid for the perfectionist audiophile market (and who else would pay $3400/pair for loudspeakers?), JBL has produced nothing more than yet another high-priced "Boston bland" behemoth. Every vestige of the middle-range immediacy, aliveness, and incredible detailing that characterized their previous speakers is gone. Instead, what we have are outstanding lows, superb highs, excellent soundstaging, very good imaging, and a total inability to make anything sound real. It's another instance of the baby going down the drain with the bath water.
Perhaps I'm being too hard on the 250Ti. I acknowledge that it is capable of producing prodigiously high listening levels without a trace of strain, and that its highs are simply gorgeous!—silky smooth, open, completely effortless, and free from steeliness, even at the highest listening levels any sane person would tolerate (footnote 3). I acknowledge its remarkably smooth low end (usable to around 35Hz), and its ability to float a wide, deep soundstage around the instruments in simply-miked recordings.
But I also admit that my unusually brusque dismissal of JBL's not-inconsiderable design efforts on behalf of this system stems more from frustrated expectations than from anything else. I expected a system that would combine the old JBL systems' best attributes with those of today's state-of-the-art audiophile systems. I did not expect a total sellout to the audiophile taste for unctuous blahh!
I am, however, constantly reminded by everyone here that my stubborn insistence that reproduced music should sound alive is not shared by everyone—nor, perhaps, by most audiophiles. After all, it wasn't the terminally deaf that JBL surveyed prior to designing this system, but the people who apply perfectionist standards to reproduced sound. So, for those perfectionists among our readers who don't give a sow's teat about aliveness, here is an impassive description of how the 250Ti's sound when driven by the kind of amp they like best: a top-notch solid-state amp like the Electron Kinetics Eagle 2.
I got the most natural sound over-all with the midrange drivers at their maximum setting and the tweeters strapped for 1dB of attenuation. The highs, as I said, are just superb—better in smoothness and freedom from steeliness than those of many electrostatic systems, and in perfect balance (in my listening room) with that 1dB of attenuation.
In general, the sound of the system is warm, a little laid-back, and a shade heavy and loose through the midbass. Bass detail is good but not excellent, having only moderately good delineation of pitch. The speakers' sound varies markedly according to the vertical angle of your ears relative to the midrange drivers, and is most neutral with the ears almost exactly on the axis of the lower-midrange driver. Below that, the sound becomes even more laid-back; above, a pronounced dip develops in the upper middle range. The 250Ti throws a very wide, deep soundstage, with stable but not very specific imaging. Mono sources produce a vague ear pressure suggesting substantial random-phase content, and center bunching is not very tight.
Summing Up
Overall, this is a very pleasant-sounding system that can produce some very impressive sounds, but it lacks the feeling of life that makes the difference between excellent reproduction and literally accurate reproduction. For $3400/pair, I expected more.—J. Gordon Holt
Article Continues: An Opposing View »
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Source : stereophile[dot]com
