Living in a bigger city is a singular experience. Putting over a million people from all walks of life into a melting pot of a few square miles is . . . interesting. One is as likely to share a bus with a coffeehouse hipster as with a promising young attorney, or to share sidewalk space with bleary-eyed medical residents as with crazy people who yell nonsensical nothings at passersby. It’s a beautiful cross section of society that spans young and old, rich and poor, and brings together the tech-obsessed with the tech-averse.
The bus is a microcosm of all this. Sort of. Every morning and afternoon that I get on the No. 40 bus, I invariably take a seat next to, across from, or behind someone listening to music and staring at his or her smartphone. To be more precise, I should have said and rather than or -- more often than not, most every rider my below-average vision can make out seems to be staring at his or her smartphone with rapt attention. As I waited to exit the rear door of the 40 bus last week, I noticed that all eight seats in front of me were filled with passengers. Three had iPhones, three had Androids, one read from a Kindle, and the last, bless her, was texting on an "antiquated" non-smartphone.
The early 20th century was remarkable for a variety of reasons. The field of physics was expanding, thanks to the discoveries of such scientists as Max Planck, Niels Bohr, Albert Einstein, and Pierre and Marie Curie. Traditional political systems were in a state of unrest as empires fell alongside barriers of social stratification, and existentialism began to germinate as the works of Dostoyevsky and Nietzsche spread. Powered flight came to be in North Carolina, while the Model T began rolling off production lines in Michigan. And with little of the recognition that it perhaps deserved, the Edison Effect found a home in a vacuum tube that illuminated far more potential than it did light: the triode.
Once it dawns on you that there’s really no such thing as a negative review of an audio component, it’s a little troubling. Sure, some products sound better than others, but there will always be some that are just not good enough, whether in terms of build, features, or sound, and that warrant a reviewer embracing his responsibility to the reader and pointing out the shortcomings. And yet they’re seldom seen, short of online forums. But, really, how much more helpful is "this product sucks" than "the highs were sparkling and the bass was taut and tuneful"?
Professional reviewers are supposed to be objective, but that presupposes that objectivity is even possible. Some publications rely on technical measurements as a way of assessing a product’s performance, and in many instances, better measurements equate with better sound. But there are times when this correlation doesn’t seem to hold. One would also expect the converse to be generally true, and it generally is: poor measurements usually equate with poor sound. But again, the fact that some products don’t measure particularly well doesn’t keep some reviewers from liking them, or large numbers of consumers from buying them. When combined with the self-indulgent writing of some reviewers, measurements can become a sideshow to anecdotes about one’s wife or pet, or to transcriptions of inane conversations that are uninteresting and uninformative.
I try to avoid mentioning my audio hobby in casual conversation. Like my affinity for British football, aka soccer (Go Arsenal!), the topic usually elicits looks of the glazed and uncomprehending variety, and serves only to make me look elitist. The prices involved further cement my appearance as a pretentious snob. Worst, however, is the near-inevitable response when I talk about my higher-end equipment: “Oh, like Bose and stuff?”
No. Not like Bose.
To the uninitiated, Bose has become synonymous with high-end sound, as automatic a choice as a Porsche for the nouveau riche in search of a sports car. Not that one can blame those individuals; like Porsche, Bose has deftly marketed itself into public consciousness as the preeminent choice for the sophisticated consumer. Porsche can lay legitimate claim to making the benchmark in rear-engine, rear-wheel-drive sports coupes, the 911. Bose’s best-known product is arguably the 901, a bipolar speaker that Bose once took Consumer Reports to court over for an unfavorable review. And by court, I mean the US Supreme Court. Nothing says “benchmark-level audio reproduction” like a lawsuit over a reviewer’s claim that instruments played through the 901s “seemed to grow to gigantic proportions and tended to wander about the room.”
As regards this splendid hobby of ours, the summer of 2011 was significant for me. First I reviewed Thorens’s then-new TD 309 turntable ($1849.95 USD), fell in love with it, and sold my long-serving VPI HW-19 Jr. to make room for my new acquisition. What I heard from the Thorens was a dramatic advance in terms of background quietness, and greater detail extracted from the grooves. Indeed, the TD 309 is one of the very few turntables I’ve heard that can make a convincing argument for why, when everything in the playback chain is working well, vinyl can sound so much better than CD. I also appreciated the included Audio-Technica cartridge which sounded fine, even if the turntable deserves much better, as well as no longer having to switch pulleys to play a 45rpm disc, or deal with the VPI’s obligatory record clamp.
Read more: After the Buying Spree: Living with the Thorens TD 309 Turntable and Hegel HD2 USB DAC
Asked what he thought consumers wanted, Henry Ford once posited that they would ask for a better horse. Seeming to have taken this quip to heart, the late Steve Jobs spent the first decade of the 21st century building products that, far from being derivative, were tabula-rasa creations when compared to the market’s other offerings. The iPod’s click wheel and the iPhone’s touchscreen were bold design decisions that flew in the face of convention, and went on to redefine entire segments. Along with the sheer braggadocio of the iPad to exist at all when industry pundits were unable to divine how consumers would even use such a device, Jobs’s advances are emblematic of both his design savvy and his understanding of how people interact with technology.
Until a few years ago, the bucking of convention in high-end audio was a laughable impossibility. With antiquated vacuum tubes and vinyl still very much at the center of many audiophiles’ systems, and SACD/CD players the rest, it would have been foolish for a manufacturer to release a product that was fundamentally different from those offered by competitors.
Computer-based audio, however, has made high-end audio available to those out of reach of the listening rooms of local dealers. Many USB digital-to-analog converters are now available for well under $1000, and offer properly good sound for a remarkably small sum. In concert with continuously falling hard-drive prices, computers are now, arguably, the best and the cheapest source component for a high-end audio system. Output some lossless digital music to a small USB DAC and integrated amplifier connected to half-decent speakers, and you can enjoy superlative sound for a recession-appropriate amount of money. It is bloody fantastic to be able to sit on a couch with a laptop and have your entire music collection at your immediate, lossless, and upsampled disposal.
We at GoodSound! have a well-deserved reputation for appreciating high-value products. To be one, an audio component doesn’t necessarily have to be inexpensive, but it does have to offer performance far beyond what a reasonable listener should expect from a product at its price. Examples that come to mind are Aperion’s Verus Grand line of speakers and Anthem’s MRX A/V receivers. But unlike those stellar products, the latest grand bargain that’s come to our attention isn’t a manufactured product at all.
Members of the do-it-yourself loudspeaker community have long followed the happenings at Humble Homemade Hifi, a site that must be considered to be at the center of the amateur speaker-design universe. The man behind the site, erstwhile architect and present entrepreneur Tony Gee, has been sharing his insights about speaker engineering and his many speaker designs since the turn of the century. There have been many of the latter: 63 are listed on the site’s history page, and detailed cabinet and crossover plans are available for most of them on Gee’s download page.
Two kinds of people buy televisions: those who walk out of the store with just a TV, and those who walk out with a TV and a bunch of cables.
I have always not-so-secretly made fun of the folks who casually drop +$100 on HDMI cables and surge protectors to accompany their new $500 television, and have likened the salesperson hawking said cables to someone selling used cars. It’s not that the cables or surge protectors are bad; I’m just not sure they make much difference in terms of picture quality and surge protection. From my perspective, and I suspect for many others as well, it makes much more sense to invest that $100 in the television itself: a $600 TV might get you a more reputable brand name, a bigger screen, and/or additional connections than are available with a $500 set.
Such logic works as well in audio as in video. If you’re buying $500 speakers, why spend a dime on cables when you could get bigger, better speakers? This line of thinking accompanied me recently as I reviewed three different sets of cables. Does this stuff really make a difference? Yes. And no.
I’ve just read the latest issue of one of the audio-rag survivors in which every component received a positive review. The preamp? "Just sounds right." Turntables priced $5000 and $6000? "Damn good record player . . . [can’t] go wrong buying one." Low-priced minimonitor-sub combo? "Recommended." A $15,000 loudspeaker? "I loved what it did!" The USB D/A converter was an "easy recommendation." I’ve left a bunch out -- various phono preamps, a handful of CD receivers -- also generally given the thumbs up. This wasn’t just a one-off for this magazine, either, and its few remaining competitors engage in more or less the same editorial behavior. If you look at my own scribbles, you could say I’m also guilty (so far) of not writing a negative review. And while we’re at it, just try to find negative reviews in the car mags or boat glossies.
Is there nothing out there that stinks? Doesn’t all this prove that reviewers are firmly in bed with the industries whose products they judge? How long can critics do this before someone cries foul? I’ll answer the first question first.
Is there nothing out there that stinks? Yes, there is audio equipment now on the market that is shoddily made, measures poorly, and sounds terrible. But the fact that dreck exists, even if there were a lot of it about, can’t be the only reason to pay someone like me good money to review it.
The "Audio 101" series wouldn’t be complete without a discussion of accessories. They come in myriad shapes and sizes, and constitute anything that isn’t directly involved in reproducing an audio recording -- that is, anything that isn’t in the signal path. I’ll focus here on a few main varieties: footers, racks, and contact enhancers or treatments.
Footers
Footers -- aka isolation devices, feet, pods -- are anything designed to be placed between an audio component and the flat surface it sits on. There are probably more varieties of footers than there are recompilations of Elvis Presley hits, but some common ones are Vibrapod’s Isolators, Cardas Audio’s Golden Cuboids, and Synergistic Research’s MiGs -- which are, respectively, soft and rubbery, hard and wooden, and hard and metallic. Each of these manufacturers has a different take on how a footer should perform.
As their manufacturer’s name suggests, Vibrapod Isolators and Cones are footers that isolate an audio component from vibrations in its shelf or platform, and in that sense are a lot like shock absorbers on a car. In effect, the component floats above the shelf on the Isolator, whose rubbery material is supposed to dissipate vibrations before they reach the component.