
SHIBBOLETHS OF STEREO
by
H. R. Weiner
Gilead then cut Ephraim off from the fords of
the Jordan, and whenever Ephraimite fugitives said, 'Let me cross,' the
men of Gilead would ask, 'Are you an Ephraimite?' If he said, 'No,' they
then said, 'Very well, say "Shibboleth".' If anyone said, "Sibboleth",
because he could not pronounce it, then they would seize him and kill him
by the fords of the Jordan. - Judges
12:5-6
I. Sunday Morning Sermonette
We hold certain truths to be self-evident in high
fidelity. Certainly "the music lives in the midrange" is so
widespread, so easy to agree with, that no one has ever questioned it. It’s
like a secret handshake, except that everyone knows it. We reviewers flesh
out our reports by citing it: "the midrange, which is the heart of
music, was full and rich." What in blazes is "full and
rich" midrange? A stocky tenor who earns a big salary?
Our common wisdom ignores the fact that truly realistic
reproduction of musical events does not depend any more upon midrange
fidelity than it does on Pace, Rhythm and Timing (another of those hoary
clichés) or continuity – that perfect but never defined property that
shows up in reports all the time – any more than it resides in deep
bass, airy treble (as opposed to dank, airless treble?), or any other
single property. Trying to nail down the single most important quality of
music is like trying to find the best part of the Rocky Mountains: if you
can identify one item better than all the others, what you’ve really got
is an inventory of failure in other categories.
I’ll give you an example. There is an electronics
company whose amplifiers are synonymous with deep, powerful bass. This has
been a constant of the past several decades, to the point that we may
summarize by saying "Krell bass" whenever a product has deep,
well-controlled low frequencies. I can’t recall a reviewer commenting on
"Krell treble," and I don’t know anyone who chooses these
amplifiers for their midrange.
The problem, obviously, is that we audiophiles deal in
compromises: we try to identify the part of music which matters most, and
strive to optimize that part. No one doubts that Quad 57s get the range
from about 70 to 7 kilohertz right; and since the heart of music resides
in this span, Quads are cited as a reference – even though the majority
of people have never heard them. And that leads us to another hoary hifi
cliché: "electrostatic speed." Oscilloscope tracings show that
electrostatic and ribbon transducers respond quickly to impulses – but
not faster than modern moving coil drivers. And yet I bet that not a month
goes by that some speaker is described as "fast like an
electrostatic."
Isn’t it time that we considered music as a totality,
not as an assemblage of discrete parts? This would make reviewing harder
because we wouldn’t be able to fill a third of our reports with blather
about the bass, a third about the midrange, and a third about the treble.
We might actually have to deal with music as we experience it: whole.
II. The Virtues of Vintage
This magazine’s editor has written extensively on how
replacing some capacitors and resistors in thirty-five year old components
– sometimes from companies no longer in existence – can produce
excellent sound. Art Dudley at Stereophile has contributed articles
on refurbishing speakers and turntables. I admired the writers’
artisanship, but I questioned the ultimate value of these endeavors. Why
should I spend a lot of personal time to achieve the same level of
performance I can get from current gear, and without burning my fingertips
on a soldering iron, or sniffing insulation and resin? There’s a flood
of Chinese gear rolling into the market, and it’s often pretty cheap.
When you add in the cost of paying someone to rebuild an old amplifier (or
spending your weekends doing it) do you get something you couldn’t get
with a credit card? The bottom line, whether you pay in money or in time,
is this: what does the old stuff have that we can’t buy brand new?
Hifi reviews often sink back on automotive analogies,
so here’s one. Let’s imagine that Ebenezer, your kindly old
grandfather, bequeaths you a 1975 Mercedes sedan. After you replaced the
belts, hoses, clamps, fluids, the tires, windshield wipers – and that’s
just the little stuff, not tearing apart the transmission – you’d
discover that old Daimlers ride like tractors and shift like trucks.
Wouldn’t you be better off with a nice, late-model Honda, which will
serve comfortably for the next decade?
III. Antiquarian Exploration
Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost. - Dante, Inferno Canto
I
I had been reading Marty’s reports in Bound For Sound, and they
brought back memories of Marantz receivers I had in graduate school. As I
recalled, they sounded pretty good – but graduate school was a very long
time ago, and memory has a way of burnishing things. Still, I was curious,
and I picked up a Sansui AU-999 integrated. Then Marty sent word that he’d
found an Accuphase E-202. Would I like to buy it? He’d do the hard,
intricate work of replacing the worn parts. Sure, I thought, let’s have
an adventure. When you consider that I’ve heard a fair number of solid
state integrated amps in the recent past and found them to be pleasantly
mediocre, I was ready to be impressed – or conclude that old stuff isn’t
worth the trouble to fix up.
Marty sent progress reports on the Accuphase, and you
can read what he found in a recent issue. I was grateful for his hard
work, but I wanted to know one thing: how did this relic sound?
Marty doesn’t attempt to prejudice my listening
experience. I kept asking, but Marty told me that I should form my own
opinion. And a few weeks later, a fairly heavy box landed on my doorstep.
My first impression on opening the lid was: look at all
the tone controls and filters on this thing! Everyone knows that those
degrade the signal. On the back I found a variable damping control, a
weird power connector that wouldn’t accept my thick-as-your-forearm
power cord, and little screw terminals that wouldn’t accept my
thumb-thickness speaker wires. Everyone knows these features must be bad.
The female RCA connections were machined steel! Holy Shibboleth! Where
were the indium/rhodium plated gold-over-Tellurium copper plugs that we
all know are necessary for signal transfer?
After I regained my composure, I saw that Marty had
included speaker wire with this fifty-pound heresy – but it was lamp
cord, the stuff you buy for a few cents a foot at the hardware store. Had
Marty lost his mind?
Still, the item was on the rack, and I saw no harm in
turning it on. And now we arrive at the moral of this story. The Accuphase
E-202, for all its heretical, extremely unfashionable features, sounded
better than any solid state integrated I’ve tried in the past ten years.
The sound was clear and open from top to bottom, without a trace of
editorializing. I could stack all the errors it didn’t commit, but that’s
not the point. Simply stated, this was a great amp, an amp that made a lot
of others built since its time (mid 1970’s) sound bad.
Kevin Carter, who used to work at VAC, liked the window
analogy. Some VAC products, he told me, removed a layer of obscurity from
the music that you hadn’t ever noticed. That’s what the Accuphase did
for me that afternoon. I didn’t think about how the treble was extended
and airy, or how the midrange was lush and round. I marveled at how clear
the presentation was.
I am fortunate to live in a city with a university
music school, a private conservatory, a fair regional orchestra, and the
Chicago Symphony is not far away. None of the performances I have attended
at any of these institutions had extended and airy treble, &c. In
fact, I have been to performances that reminded me of Gordon Holt’s
comment that live music lacked the treble he heard from loudspeakers. That’s
exactly right, and that’s what the Accuphase provides: not the
exaggerated high frequency detail or overstated bass of most equipment,
only an honest rendition of the source. The window I had not been aware of
had been flung wide open.
After I calmed down about the 18 gauge (!) wire in the
screw terminals (!!), I even tried the tone controls. Oh, the simple
temptations that lead us from audiophile purity to sinful sonic
corruption. Truth is, in my room, with the speakers at hand, a gentle bass
enhancement was beneficial, and I couldn’t detect any sonic degradation.
I’ve tried integrating subwoofers with a lot less success, and a whole
lot more problems.
The next step was comparing this elderly transistor
unit to some modern tube gear. You don’t need me to tell you that the
Accuphase was different than a modern single-ended triode amplifier
running 300B tubes. The latter was very pleasant, with a creamy rightness
in the midrange (where music lives, remember?) and sweet upper octaves.
But did it sound more lifelike than the Accuphase? I went back and forth
between amps. I would be happy with either one, and I was happy to have
both. Which was more "true"? On balance, I had to judge the
Accuphase as more honest. Does that mean that one version is right and the
other wrong?
I don’t think we can make that sort of assessment. We
can assert that one amplifier, in one system, produces a sound which is
closer to live music than another. But what if you don’t want the
warts-and-all presentation? What if you’d like your music sweetened just
a little? That’s what the SET did: imposed a small amount of its own
lovely character upon the music. Is that a bad thing? Again, I think this
is a matter of personal preference and I wouldn’t blame you for adding a
bit of charm; and if you have a peaky tweeter that runs out to 50 kHz, or
a sterile midrange, tubes may be just what you need. Of course, that begs
the question: what are you doing with a nasty tweeter and a fleshless
midrange?
The answer to those questions is another question: what has high
fidelity done since about 1980? We’ve driven deeply into retrieving
detail, but neglected tonality and timbre; or we’ve made the opposite
mistake and emphasized warmth at the expense of clarity. I’m sad that I
had to reach back nearly forty years to find equipment that balanced these
priorities, but I’m glad that I did.
Don’t Forget Our Web Site
We don’t include in our printed reviews anywhere near
the number of photos taken of a reviewed product. While we may print one
or two photos with the review, space prohibits the inclusion of all the
photos we have of any component. Our web site (www.boundforsound.com)
we have many additional photos of every component reviewed. There we can
publish as many photos as we desire. It’s also a great source for images
of old vintage gear that is difficult, or impossible, to find. Take, for
example, the Setton amp and preamplifier covered in issue #204. Those
close ups and interior shots can’t be found anywhere on the internet
except BFS. Same for the JBL SA 660 integrated in this issue – no one
has those shots and photos except for us. And they are in beautiful color.
I’m still working on a "Vintage Showcase"
for the web site which will contain not only the photos of the gear we
review, but photos of vintage components owned by our readers. Please don’t
hesitate to e-mail us pix of your vintage or exotic gear for inclusion.
With some time, it could become a superb informational resource.
The Gear is Stacking Up
Some of you have already figured this out. Purchasing
(or borrowing), and reviewing the relatively high number of vintage
components covered with each issue has left me with a lot of gear sitting
around. When I committed to doing the number of vintage reviews we do in
each issue I didn’t really think about the equipment that would be left
over when the reviews were done. I knew that the equipment so generously
loaned to me for audition by EDI in Peoria would not be a problem… when
done with a piece, I simply take it back to Don and Bake for them to sell
or whatever. But when the gear I had personally purchased started building
up, I had what I perceived to be a dilemma. I didn’t start doing this
(the vintage reviews) for the purpose of opening up an audio resale shop
for vintage equipment. Selling the gear would give me a monetary reason
for wanting to see the equipment sell for a profit when the review was
over – we all can see the potential for conflict there. As a matter of
honor I’ve diligently examined my own findings on every piece reviewed
for the purpose of weeding out any statement or comment that didn’t
perfectly conform to my heartfelt conclusions after the auditions. Still,
after all was said and scrutinized, I had shelves of equipment sitting
idly by not being used. I’ve resolved the situation this way. Most
components, after the review has gone to print have been taken to EDI for
them to sell on consignment. Some components, those that I still use for
comparison purposes to new gear I keep here. Some I have given away to
friends who appreciate such things. Hence, the full disclosure here. I
honestly don’t know what to do with this vintage overflow.
In years past, the rap against reviewers was that they
would automatically give positive reviews to expensive components on loan
from manufacturers. How often have posters at the Asylum complained of
reviewers not buying the equipment found in their listening rooms? Let me
tell you, purchasing the components one reviews has its own set of
drawbacks, which people don’t want to recognize… selling the gear when
you are done with it. Maybe I should simply say that MGD is emptying out
his audio closet and be done with it…
Instead, I’ll say this. If you think you might be
interested in purchasing one of the vintage components covered in these
pages, contact me or the guys at EDI in Peoria (309.497.0100) about taking
some of this stuff off of my hands. I’m not looking to make big profits
off this equipment, only enough to cover the expense of it and then use
the money to purchase something else for review.
Let me know what you think.
________________________________________
This is very difficult to write. On Wednesday,
November 17, 2010, Rich Rodgers (aka "Big Jim, as big as all
outdoors") passed away in Sequals, Italy. He is survived by his wife,
Maria. Rich was a very close friend of mine and someone that I knew to
have a kind and gentle heart while always being ready with a huge laugh.
He was a Southern boy transplanted to San Francisco. Taking his love of
audio with him cross country, Rich combined the rare qualities of down
home humanity with San Francisco savvy. He had the ability to make people
feel relaxed with his southern drawl and easy movements, while keeping you
on your toes with insightful comments and a razor sharp mind. He
understood complicated things easily and quickly, always being able to
distill the most complex situation into a few words or appropriate
illustration – he loved to teach and he had a memory for persons, places
and things that was my envy. Rich loved people, and if you were his friend
he was as loyal as an old bloodhound. He and his wife were a refuge for
homeless cats, blind dogs and lame horses, whenever possible taking the
animals into their home (or finding a home for them), making the orphan
their pet while keeping it comfortable for the rest of its days. Not
looking to take from a relationship, Rich could be called a giver, always
offering a helping hand or a kind word. Rich wrote for BFS for nearly 15
years and during that time refused any sort of payment other than I send
copies of the issues he was in to some of his friends so they could see
his handiwork or lighten their spirits. He truly was a Southern gentleman…
I have several entries of the Rodgers Report on file
here that are yet to be published. I am going to edit and print them as if
Rich were still in eager anticipation of seeing them in BFS. With each
issue of BFS he received in Sequals, Rich would e-mail me minutes after he
got it just to tell me it had made it to Italy and how much he enjoyed it.
I can’t tell you how much I am going to miss those e-mails.
______________________________________________
It’s been a source of confusion
in the past, and I think a word here can remedy the situation. On the front
page of every Bound for Sound is an issue number and a publication date. For
this issue the number is 208. The publication date is September 2011. Even though
I would like to, we do not come out on a monthly basis. Hence, you will not
see covers with publication dates that closely correspond with consecutive
months. So, don’t be surprised when one issue says "July" and
the next one says, "September." It means nothing other than one issue
came out in July and the other in September. It doesn’t mean that you missed
the August issue. On the other hand, the issue number means everything. We
number our issues consecutively. Our last issue was #207 and this one is
#208. If you are missing #207, you have missed an issue. It’s as simple as
that.
And while on the subject, there is a way for you to know
the issue number of the last issue of your subscription. Simply look at the
label on the outside of your envelope. Just to the right of your name is a
number. That number corresponds to the number of the last issue of your
present subscription. So, if it says 208, this would be your last issue.
If, however, you don’t pay attention to the expiration
number on the envelope, we always send two notices of expiration before you
run out. After all, we want you to stay current …
Our cable and broadband had been furnished by Insight
Digital for a number of years. That has changed, and with the
change the purchaser of consumer base (Comcast) has changed our
e-mail address. The new e-mail address is bfshifi@comcast.net.