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Wireworld Platinum Eclipse Series 7 Speaker Cable & Interconnects

Wireworld Platinum Eclipse Series 7 Speaker Cable & Interconnects

Wireworld always seems to end up on my short list of preferred speaker cables and interconnects. The reason? The line embodies uncolored sonics year in and year out. If we can agree that every wire (every component) leaves something akin to fingerprints on a pane of glass—a smear, a smudge that impairs transparency and resolution—Wireworld, in my experience, has consistently left fewer traces of itself than most others. Actually, as weird as this may sound, Wireworld wires never seem to be actively doing much of anything—except making music, and a whole lot of it, as I discovered with Wireworld’s latest, Platinum Eclipse. (The flagship now carries the Series 7 moniker in celebration of the firm’s 20th Anniversary.)

Beyond its newly refined cosmetics, Platinum Eclipse represents the summit of Wireworld’s current thinking. When I reviewed the entry-level Equinox and mid-priced Eclipse (Issue 238) Wireworld’s David Salz discussed Series 7, and his remarks regarding its improvements bear repeating here. He describes a developmental process that began with “the discovery that most audible differences among cable insulation materials are caused by spectral variations in the noise they create. Furthermore, that noise is modulated and therefore amplified by the electrical energy of the music signal. This discovery led me to focus on custom-blending composite insulation materials specifically optimized for sonic purity.” The result of that effort is Wireworld’s Composilex 2 insulation technology, which dramatically reduces triboelectric noise (note: static electricity occurring through friction is an example of triboelectric noise) at the interface between conductor and insulation. “Additional improvements were garnered from new versions of Wireworld’s DNA Helix conductor geometry, which channel more electromagnetic energy and therefore more music, than the previous designs.” The new geometry is the most obvious visual difference compared with the flat-profile of the cable’s immediate predecessor.

Platinum Eclipse Series 7 (PE7) uses heavy nine-gauge OCC Silver conductors (interconnects are seventeen-gauge OCC Silver). The speaker cable is as stiff and unwieldy as the interconnects are supple. That stiffness made me reconsider my choice of the delicate banana terminations used for my review samples. I would opt for the more robust spades if these were mine.

Over the years I’ve found that when a system is paired with Wireworld cabling—entry-level to cost-no-object—the distinctions are not (initially) obvious. It’s not a sense of “lights on” in the treble or “fasten your seatbelts” in the bass. Platinum Eclipse, for all its technology and (let’s face it) awesome cost, is not about hype. If there is one phrase that describes its character, it would be relaxed but ready. PE7 is first about balance and about uncovering the bundles of inside activity that animate a great recording. These include the details, dynamic gradations, and harmonic nuances that were preserved during the recording/mixing process—and the higher the playback resolution the better (LPs especially).

At rest, there’s an underlying silence to this wire that creates something akin to a glassy expanse of deep black water—a motionless landscape waiting in anticipation of the micro-ripples of music to begin. Listening to Malcolm Arnold’s English Scottish and Cornish Dances I could hear the ever-present hall sound reverberating behind every note and filling every pause and musical rest. Or the crackle of the far upstage tambourine that rockets down the center section of the London Philharmonic orchestra, its reverberation flaring and fading into the soundscape. The point is that it’s the sheer silence of these cables that provides the launching pad for all that comes later.

Tonal balance is essentially neutral with just a suggestion of midrange warmth and a top end that at first blush can sound slightly shaded, but in fact is not. I’ll return to this point further on. Most importantly PE7 possesses a uniform palette—there are no color shifts across the musical spectrum. Rock-steady, its sonics don’t ripen in one octave and then narrow or bleach out in another. And these include the frequency extremes where such discontinuities manifest most audibly. When I listen to Joni Mitchell singing “A Case of You” as I recently did in my evaluation of the Ortofon Quintet Black cartridge (review in this issue) I don’t want to hear splashes of treble harmonics and air decoupled from the fundamentals of the vocal. This is all too common in cables that miss the mark. But Platinum Eclipse’s overall response is continuous and smooth. At the other extreme, its bass response is as open, well defined, and complex as its treble, imparting body and air proportional to the demands of the music. For instance, listen closely to the final smack of the bass drum during John Williams’ Liberty Fanfare [Wilson Audiophile].

 

Beyond the immediate and immense impact, you’ll hear and feel the resonance and flutter of the drum head as it does a slow fade into the background.

As I alluded to earlier, Platinum Eclipse is at its most expressive in the treble octaves—to my mind audio’s most precarious region where most wires either narrow, bleach, or otherwise wring out the harmonic juices of the signal. The initial tip-off for me is the sibilance range, the 6–8kHz regions, where overtones either gently punctuate a singer’s articulation or begin to sizzle like bacon on the griddle. As I listened to Norah Jones’ “Wish I Could,” consonants and especially “s” sounds were smooth, devoid of trailing smudge off the transient. At first blush, this can lead to the (false) impression that there is some shadowing in the treble, but it’s really the reduction of distortion. It was a lesson in naturalistic reproduction—like I said earlier, no hype. What you won’t hear from the Platinum are violin sections losing bits of resonant body and sounding stringy, or brass sections depleted of their sparkling golden bloom from lack of air and truncation of harmonics.

In these upper octaves PE7 most reminds me of my first experience listening to Tara Labs Zero and Omega (at JV’s suggestion) many years ago. They were driving MBL’s three-way compact, the mbl 121 Radialstrahler via MBL electronics. This omnidirectional speaker (since replaced) had a reputation—as musically luminous as a loudspeaker could be, it was equally ruthless in the way it exposed component impurities. Prior to the Taras it was also disturbing to me that the vaunted treble purity of the Radialstrahler was proving so elusive in my listening room. The violin solos of Arturo Delmoni from Songs My Mother Taught Me [JMR] had a stridency, a stinging string tone more penetrating than the instrument deserved. Similarly the upper octaves of Valentina Lisitsa’s piano registered a more metallic signature as if the felt had worn off the keyboard’s hammers. The Tara effectively put an end to that immediately. It smoothed, sweetened, and opened up these octaves. The Platinum Eclipse is the first wire since the Tara to score as highly in this area. On solo piano and violin there is a consistent sweetness, especially in the treble range, a warm air enriching each image in the way an artist adds rich swathes of color to a line drawing.

Beyond its upper-octave performance, dimensionality and spatial gradations are Platinum’s most persuasive virtues. It sets a symphonic soundstage with the same precision as the staff preparing the dining room table at Downton Abby. Once again I turned to Rutter’s Requiem [Reference Recordings], a reference album of immersive spatiality and vast staging. As heard through the PE7 wire, the Turtle Creek chorale remained fully integrated within the reverberant venue yet, if the mind’s eye so chose, the individual vocal nuances of each chorus member could be singled out. The presentation never devolved into a slice-and-dice affair that set players apart from their acoustic surroundings. Only the Synergistic Research Tesla CTS, with its uncanny holographic soundstage, has bettered the Wireworld in this regard.

What price glory? Platinum Eclipse is certainly well beyond my pay grade. But don’t assume that just because it is so costly it requires an ultra-high-resolution, fancy pants system to make its magic—or that it wouldn’t make a dime’s worth of difference in a more “real world” high-end system. Unfortunately it does make a difference, and all too much of one. Loudspeakers as cost-accessible as the new Audio Physic Classic 30 floorstander and the ATC SCM19 stand-mounted monitor benefitted to no small degree from these wires. So much so that it may not be a good idea to try them unless you’re prepared to go all the way to purchase.

For those prepared to go all the way, and I’m glad there are those of you out there, I wouldn’t hesitate to commend these wires. I’ve heard plenty of other cables that have proven themselves over various criteria, but Wireworld’s Platinum Eclipse Series7 is the most balanced and musical cable I’ve experienced yet. A component worthy of the designation, the state of the art.

PRICING

WIREWORLD AUDIO
6545 Nova Drive, Suite #204
Davie, FL 33317
(954) 474-4464
wireworldcable.com

Price: Speaker cable, $20,500/8′ pr.; interconnect, $3000/1m pr.; power cord, $1700/1m

Neil Gader

By Neil Gader

My love of music largely predates my enthusiasm for audio. I grew up Los Angeles in a house where music was constantly playing on the stereo (Altecs, if you’re interested). It ranged from my mom listening to hit Broadway musicals to my sister’s early Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Beatles, and Stones LPs, and dad’s constant companions, Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett. With the British Invasion, I immediately picked up a guitar and took piano lessons and have been playing ever since. Following graduation from UCLA I became a writing member of the Lehman Engel’s BMI Musical Theater Workshops in New York–working in advertising to pay the bills. I’ve co-written bunches of songs, some published, some recorded. In 1995 I co-produced an award-winning short fiction movie that did well on the international film-festival circuit. I was introduced to Harry Pearson in the early 70s by a mutual friend. At that time Harry was still working full-time for Long Island’s Newsday even as he was writing Issue 1 of TAS during his off hours. We struck up a decades-long friendship that ultimately turned into a writing gig that has proved both stimulating and rewarding. In terms of music reproduction, I find myself listening more than ever for the “little” things. Low-level resolving power, dynamic gradients, shadings, timbral color and contrasts. Listening to a lot of vocals and solo piano has always helped me recalibrate and nail down what I’m hearing. Tonal neutrality and presence are important to me but small deviations are not disqualifying. But I am quite sensitive to treble over-reach, and find dry, hyper-detailed systems intriguing but inauthentic compared with the concert-going experience. For me, true musicality conveys the cozy warmth of a room with a fireplace not the icy cold of an igloo. Currently I split my time between Santa Fe, New Mexico and Studio City, California with my wife Judi Dickerson, an acting, voice, and dialect coach, along with border collies Ivy and Alfie.

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