In 2000, Australian singer, songwriter, and blues guitarist Fiona Boyes recorded Blues in My Heart, a collection of acoustic fingerpicked ragtime blues, including ten originals and a half-dozen covers by Rev. Gary Davis, J.B. Lenoir, and Leadbelly, among others. Boyes has since garnered a boxful of awards and shared the stage with such legends as Bob Margolin, Hubert Sumlin, and Pinetop Perkins, to name a few. Now, Grammy-nominated engineer Joseph Carra has remastered her auspicious debut. Boyes lends a loose, sassy flair to these songs—check out the defiant attitude she bestows upon Kid Bailey’s “Rowdy Blues.” Boyes’ vocals and picking are the driving force here, and her big Matan dreadnaught is close-miked to accentuate the foot stomps, hammer-ons, pull-offs, and string bends. And she is supported by occasional bandmates Kaz Dalla Rosa (harmonica), Paula Dowse (drums and percussion), and Gina Woods (piano). I found the sparse percussion distracting, especially the tambourine and snare on the cover of Rod Hodges’ “Angel.” But Boyes’ technique is so solid and her playing so darned bluesy that the distraction is a minor complaint, and this dynamic remaster, available on CD, bristles with detail to produce an intimate, energetic experience.
In Oscar Wilde’s novel The Picture of Dorian Gray, the flibbertigibbet Lady Henry observes, “I like Wagner’s music better than anybody’s. It is so loud that one can talk the whole time without other people hearing what one says. That is a great advantage, don’t you think so, Mr. Gray?” Dorian doesn’t miss a beat. “I am afraid I don’t think so, Lady Henry,” he replies. “I never talk during music—at least, during good music. If one hears bad music, it is one’s duty to drown it in conversation.”
By this humorous standard, when listening to the new 450-watt Parasound JC 1+ monoblock amplifier, my guess is that you’re not liable to engage in much small talk because it makes most music sound so good. “JC” are the initials of legendary audio engineer John Curl, who has given his original JC 1 design a complete overhaul. [John Curl was inducted into The Absolute Sound’s High-End Audio Hall of Fame in 2018, Issue 289. —RH] As it happens, I used a pair of the original JC 1 Class AB monoblocks for several years to power Magnepan 1.6 loudspeakers, which prospered from the clean current that those amps provided. Any Magnepan lover knows that these big panels suck up watts like almost nothing else in the way of loudspeakers on the planet, but also that the sonic rewards can be great. In this case, they were.
Naturally, I was curious to hear what Parasound and Curl had accomplished after almost two decades. On paper, the revisions to the JC 1 appear to be extensive. It boasts a new power transformer with 20% higher capacity than its predecessor, as well as Nichicon power-supply filter capacitors that have been increased in capacity from 132,000uF to 198,000uF. Both measures typically translate into an increased stability that provides a wealth of sonic benefits, including better imaging and dynamics. The amplifier also employs Bybee Music Rails to help eliminate the input-stage noise that can have a deleterious effect on tonal purity. The amplifier has a two-position toggle switch that allows you to choose between 23dB or 29dB of gain, depending on the sensitivity of your loudspeaker. With the Wilson Audio WAMM Master Chronosonic loudspeaker, I relied upon the 29dB setting. The amp also sports two nifty pairs of CHK Infinium speaker terminals that grasp the loudspeaker cable lugs very firmly, indeed. As long as you insert the lugs straight up into the terminals, the CHKs are a breeze to use; deviate, however, by even a millimeter, and the lugs simply won’t glide in. At 83 pounds (the original was 63), these amps are no lightweights, but they’re not too difficult to maneuver into place by yourself.
As with most big powerhouse amps, it’s always tempting right away to declare, like the Thing in the Fantastic Four, “It’s clobberin’ time!” Whether running the Parasounds on the subwoofers or the front speakers of my system, I consistently found that they can, as you would expect, deliver quite a wallop. Initially, I ran the Parasounds on my subwoofers to break them in and to test their mettle on the deepest bass passages. Quite frankly, I was taken aback by what they brought to the table in the bass realm. They seemed not simply to plunge down more deeply into the nether regions, but also to more fully energize the notes themselves. This was apparent on both CDs and LPs. On a Decca pressing of the Solti recordings of the Wagner operas—recently bestowed upon me by Ali Saad, a classical aficionado and avid audiophile in Los Angeles—the forging of Siegfried’s sword came through with a remarkable clang, resounding to the back of the room. Jeepers, creepers! It was though the Parasounds were delivering the current into the loudspeaker unmediated by cables or anything else. I consistently found that the Parasounds not only increased the dynamics of my overall system, but also the perceived sense of hall space. It’s been said, time and again, that subwoofers play a pivotal role in defining the soundstage dimensions of a recording, but it’s always a pleasure to hear the phenomenon vividly demo’d, as it was with the JC 1+.
As tempting as it might have been to retain the Parasounds on the subs, duty called. It was time for the Full Monty. I ventured to the recesses of my listening room, eyed the Parasounds for a moment, then hoisted them into the air, one at a time, mind you, to install them on my main loudspeakers. The results were quite revealing.
The first thing I noticed was that same sense of enveloping space I’d heard with the subwoofers. On a BBC Music CD that I recently received, a whoosh of ambient hall and audience sound came through even before the music began, followed by Frederick Delius’ pleasant trifle “On Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring,” a tone poem he composed in 1912. It features an onomatopoetic cuckoo call that is sounded first by the woodwinds, then the strings. With all that surplus power on hand—the first 25 watts in Class A—the Parasounds vividly conveyed the sweeping and shimmering sound of the orchestra, turning it into an engrossing experience. In part, the Parasounds possess such an enveloping character because of their ability to plumb the depths with satisfying richness and grip.
To give their ability to stand up to a real high-powered orchestral performance a go, I played an old EMI, Herbert von Karajan conducting the Berlin Philharmonic on Sibelius’ tone poem Finlandia. This one has it all—melodrama, pathos, and grandeur. Right from the outset, the Parasounds delivered the staccato trumpet fanfare with precision and alacrity. No less impressive were the timpani whacks, which were never drowned out by the orchestra, but clearly audible in all their majestic force. There was none of the smearing or congealing or discombobulation of the various sections of the orchestra that you might expect with a lesser amplifier, without the power to keep everything from spiraling out of control. On the contrary, the JC 1+ kept the proceedings firmly in hand right up through the very grand finale, as the orchestra crescendos triumphantly while the tympani delivers a sustained roll—a kind of emphatic period to the overture. Once again, the clear delineation of the tympani even as the orchestra was playing full bore was most impressive.
Another blockbuster was a CD on the Sony label called Oriental Trumpet Concertos that features the Hungarian trumpeter Gabor Boldoczki playing Alexander Arutiunian’s Trumpet Concerto in A-flat major. The Parasounds effectively captured the velvety sound emanating from the bore of Boldoczki’s trumpet, as well as the more nasal quality when he deployed a straight mute for the wonderfully plangent and meditative middle movement. On the cadenza that wraps up matters with a triumphant finish, the trumpet almost sounds as forceful as a machine-gun, as Boldoczki double-tongues the sixteenth notes. The transient dynamism of the amps was consistently apparent on trumpet recordings—it was as though the music were snapping to attention, like a soldier crisply saluting a flag.
As noted, the spaciousness and power of the sound has a lot to do with the bass control of these amplifiers. On a very fine recording by Stephen Hough of the final piano pieces of Brahms [Hyperion], the rumbling of the piano in the subterranean regions was quite palpable. On both the Fantasias and Intermezzos, both the delicacy and lingering quality of Hough’s touch were discernible as his left hand traveled down the keyboard. I’ve rarely heard such fidelity and accuracy in the bass as I did with the Parasounds. The PS Audio M1200, an amplifier based around a tubed input and switching output stage, may have gone even deeper, but I don’t think it boasted the same grip, or, to put it another way, the same variety of timbres.
I heard something similar in terms of bass fidelity on an oldie but goodie, the Concord label album called “Don’t Forget the Blues,” which sounded unforgettable. On the song “Rocks In My Bed,” Ray Brown’s bass was tautly defined, moaning and groaning as he accompanied the superb trombonist Al Grey, a master of the wah-wah mute, if there ever was one. If the sound of Brown’s bass line were a rubber band and any tauter, it would have snapped in two.
How did the Parasounds perform on more delicate fare? You’ll get few quibbles from me, friends. There were moments when I was simply startled by the finesse that they offered. On Louis Bellson’s album Thunderbird, for example, I was smitten by the rendition of the Neal Hefti standard “Softly With Feeling.” The Parasounds were able to provide the hushed backing of the winds with total control, endowing the song with a sense of realism that it would otherwise have lacked. This was one of those times when this LP on the Impulse! label really sounded opened up rather than claustrophobic. I mean talk about pristine. Suffice it to say, that the Parasounds conveyed, or appeared to convey, just about every last little nuance the cartridge excavated from the black grooves.
But even on the delicate passages, the sound was never wispy. Take the magnificent album Festival of Trumpets [Nonesuch]. It was mastered in 1974 by Bob Ludwig and features the New York Trumpet Ensemble, directed by Gerard Schwarz. I was riveted, among other things, by a lovely Sonatina by the baroque composer Johann Christoph Pezel, who himself played trumpet and violin. The gossamer-like trumpet playing of Schwarz and Louis Ranger sounded very enticing, but it was the accompaniment of the bassoon and harpsichord that really caught my ear. It’s easy for them to get lost in the mix. But here it was easy to hear the pleasingly sonorous sound of the bassoon as it puffed along, as well as the soft and deliberate plucks of the harpsichord. If I had to pick a nit, it would be in the treble. It’s not that the sound ever became hard or dirty—the Parasound always has a rich, warm, inviting sound on top—rather, the amp could sometimes be less slightly transparent and pellucid on top than some of its far-pricier brethren.
The JC 1+ shows just how far amplifiers have come in the past several decades. Always a stalwart, it has been vastly improved in its latest incarnation. Both consummately reliable and stellar in performance in my listening room, it offers a beautifully refined, flowing, and organic presentation of music. It is clearly voiced on the sumptuous and warm side, which is to say it has the breath of musical life. I could listen to it for hours and hours, and did.
No doubt you can spend a lot more money on amplifiers ranging from $50,000 and up, and I’d be the last to dissuade anyone from chasing audio rainbows as vigorously as they please. The gains will be there in tonality, dynamics, and filigree of detail, particularly in the treble. But the JC 1+ monoblocks come so darned close to the best, in so many categories, that for more than a few listeners it may seem an otiose pursuit to look elsewhere. Parasound and John Curl deserve a rousing round of applause for producing a real-world-priced amplifier that delivers otherworldly sound.
Specs & Pricing
Type: Monoblock solid-state power amplifier
Power output: 450 watts @ 8 ohms; 850 watts @ 4 ohms; 1300 watts @ 2 ohms
Class A power output: 25W, bias switch set to high; 10W, bias switch set to low
Frequency response: 2Hz–120kHz, +0/-2dB; 20Hz–20kHz, +0/-0.25dB
Total harmonic distortion (THD): <0.15 % at full power; <0.02 % at typical listening levels
IM distortion: <0.03 %
Damping factor: >1200 at 20Hz
Input impedance: Unbalanced, 50k ohm; balanced, 100k ohm (50k ohm per leg)
S/N ratio, inputs shorted: >122dB, IHF A-weighted, bias set to Low; >120dB, IHF A-weighted, bias set to High; >113dB, unweighted, bias set to Low; >111dB, unweighted, bias set to High
Dimensions: 17½” x 7¾” x 20″
Net weight: 83 lbs.
Price: $8495 each
PARASOUND PRODUCTS, INC.
2250 McKinnon Avenue
San Francisco, CA 94124
The following is a press release issued by ELAC.
Orange, CA | June 7th, 2021 – ELAC, a leading global provider of high-performance speakers and electronics, today announced the Uni-Fi Reference line of home speakers. This new line builds upon the success of the Uni-Fi 2.0 series and incorporates a variety of performance and cosmetic improvements.
“This new line removes the price limitations of the Uni-Fi 2.0 series along with the technical barriers associated with that price point. The Uni-Fi Reference series offers significant performance improvements such as cast chassis for both the concentric and bass drivers, newly developed bass and concentric drivers, enhanced bracing, improved crossover design, along with luxury cosmetics” said James Krodel, senior vice president sales, ELAC.
Some of the notable new features of the Uni-Fi Refence line-up include.
Newly Developed 4” Concentric Driver with Cast Chassis: A wide-surround tweeter enhances its low and high frequency extension allowing for improved blending with the midrange. An entirely new midrange driver with large diameter voice coil, vented rear spider and new neodymium magnet allows for better excursion and control of midrange frequencies. A new cast chassis was designed to minimize reflections back to the cone resulting in better clarity.
Newly developed 5.25” and 6.5” Aluminum Woofers with Cast Chassis: Drastically improving low-end reproduction, this newly developed bass driver features a single piece compound curvature aluminum cone with a large rear vented magnet delivering improved linearity and better low frequency response of any previous Uni-Fi bookshelf speaker.
Sophisticated 3-way Crossover: An entirely new design improves response linearity, improves driver integration, and delivers a true 6-ohm nominal impedance for compatibility with virtually all AV receivers.
Full Perimeter Bracing: Reducing the speaker cabinets influence on audio quality the Uni-Fi Reference line implements full perimeter bracing significantly reducing cabinet vibration and cabinet coloration.
Front Firing Ports – Placing the vents on the front of the bookshelf and center speakers allows for greater freedom of placement, even in restricted places like a cabinet or up close to a wall.
All three new models will be available in late-June at ELAC retailers nationwide.
What ignited your interest in high-end audio? Did it come from the music side or the electronics side?
I come from a musical family, so that was the spark, but as I got more involved in music, I became more and more fascinated with sound and eventually the physics of sound. Sound has always been a means to enjoy the art of music, but I do admit that it’s the noise music makes that really interests me.
What do you consider to be your first high-end system?
After college I saved for a little JVC receiver and a turntable from JC Penney, but the crowning jewel was my pair of Acoustic Research AR-18 bookshelves. I went to the shop down the street once a week for three months to listen to them. It was a great start to the journey. There was something very satisfying about putting together the best system I could afford at the time, and I’ve never forgotten the feeling I had the first time I listened to my humble little system.
What kind of education did you receive?
I started school doing audio engineering, and finished my schooling on the 10-year night-school plan in electronics engineering and computer-hardware design.
What differentiates high-end audio from other forms of audio?
The experience. You have to be looking for the emotion and passion only music can provide in order to really “get” high-end audio, whether you approach it from a passion for the art or the science. Music is not a passive experience—you have to be engaged with it even if you’re simply sitting in your living room—so the greater the detail in the performance or the playback, the greater the passion and emotion in your heart and soul.
KEF is placing increasing emphasis on wireless/active loudspeakers. Is this where the industry is going?
Because streaming is the future of music and because the available technology makes super-high-performing active systems affordable, there is a definite trend in that direction. But systems made of separates are always going to have a place in the market.
What interesting fact, philosophy, or aspect about KEF might surprise audiophiles?
The level of engineering we do to make our speakers. We attack our design process from the physics level, with a ground-up approach for every product line. It’s the principle the company was founded on, and we’re privileged to still be able to work that way today.
Looking in your crystal ball, where do you see the high end in the next 10 years?
I think we’re entering a new audio renaissance, so I believe more people will come to appreciate high end. The first 15 years of this century were kind of a low point in music appreciation because we were all so fascinated with convenience over quality, but I think we’re beginning to see that was all just a fad. Whether its food, wine, or music, people crave the best possible sensory experience they can get their hands on, and technology has made it possible for music lovers and audiophiles to get amazing audio reproduction that is also convenient beyond anything we thought possible even ten years ago.
What challenges are the high-end industry facing?
Technology is changing at such a rapid rate that it’s hard to know what will be expected of a product in even three or four years’ time. Couple this with the fact that the digital infrastructure on the consumer and provider’s ends are stressed to saturation, and you’ve got challenges that were unheard of until recently. Right now, bandwidth is the biggest tech hurdle, and re-introducing consumers to music that sounds great is the biggest market challenge.
Outside of audio, what do you do for fun?
I ride motorcycles (I’m currently on an Indian), and I’m trying my hand at gentleman farming, but I never really find myself very far from music or audio in some fashion. That’s what’s fun about riding (or cutting hay)—I go without a radio or sound system and just connect with the machine and the surroundings. It’s very liberating and relaxing.
What inspires you about your work?
Sound. Followed by music. I’m extremely privileged to work in an industry and for a company that shares my same passion. It makes it very easy to get up and go to work in the morning. I started fooling around with speakers when I was 14, and after a few career detours here and there it’s amazing to be right back where my passion has always been.
The next time that audiophile catalog lands in your mailbox—you know, the one that’s been coming every month or so ever since you bought a gallon of record cleaning fluid sometime during the second Clinton administration—take a close look at the photos used to show off the equipment to its best advantage. A Spartan turntable sits on a tastefully distressed wood-plank table with three potted cacti looking on admiringly. A top-quality surround-sound system is displayed in a living room on a well-maintained oak floor with glimpses of an expensive-looking Persian rug and a contemporary Italian glass coffee table in the frame. A sleek equipment rack holding thousands of dollars worth of gear sits beneath an abstract watercolor. The presentation is intended to communicate that owning good audio gear demonstrates an appreciation for the finer things in life. But do the hypothetical inhabitants of these refined spaces only look and not listen? I ask because there’s not a cable in sight.
The idea of a wireless audio system has a lot of appeal, and not just because of aesthetic considerations. There’s the chance for a designer to optimally match amplification to a loudspeaker’s drivers and enclosure. There’s all the assets and angst spared by not having to deal with interconnects and speaker cables. Although most active loudspeakers are smaller models intended for desktop or studio use, the product class has been burgeoning lately, and there have been some recent high-profile successes with full-range models aimed at the audiophile market. Bruno Putzeys’ Kii Three, the Gayle Sanders’ Eikon, and several others have joined offerings from trailblazer Meridian Audio. In the loudspeaker game since 1983, Denmark’s Dali—that’s Danish Audiophile Loudspeaker Industries—has decided to commit resources to this approach, as well.
Dali introduced two powered loudspeakers in 2017, the Callisto 2 and Callisto 6. The bookshelf Rubicon 2 C and the Rubicon 6 C floorstander considered here are the first instances of DALI taking an existing product (the Rubicon 6, at $5499 per pair, debuted in 2014) and building in the wireless technology of the Callistos. The Rubicon 6 C, with the DALI Sound Hub that serves as a streaming preamplifier connecting wirelessly to the loudspeakers, retails for a smidge under $8800.
The DALI Rubicon 6 C loudspeakers are handsome, if conventional-appearing rectangular boxes measuring 7.9″ (W) x 39.1″ (H) x 15.0″ (D). Each speaker weighs in at 45.8 pounds. The 6 C is a 2½-way bass-reflex system, with both its hybrid tweeter and two 6.5″ mid/bass drivers built by DALI in Denmark using European-manufactured parts. The high-frequency unit combines a 1″ soft dome, featuring a copper-clad aluminum voice coil, and a wide-dispersion magnetostatic ribbon. The complete tweeter assembly functions from about 2500Hz to beyond 30kHz. The mid/woofer has a wood-fiber diaphragm that’s both light and rigid, possessing an uneven surface that assures more ideal pistonic movement of the membrane. Perhaps the driver’s most significant design element is the Soft Magnetic Compound (SMC) used to replace a key iron part of the magnet structure. As explained to me by DALI CEO Lars Worre, SMC is “a pulverized material consisting of very small iron particles, which are individually coated so that when you press them together into a form, none of the particles will—electrically—be in contact. Consequentially, there will be no electrical conductivity: SMC is around ten thousand times less electrically conductive than iron but has the same excellent abilities to conduct magnetism.” DALI manufactures its mid/bass driver’s pole piece entirely from SMC, enclosing it in a slitted copper cap. A measurable consequence of this design is the virtual elimination of hysteresis, a phenomenon resulting from the asymmetry of the magnetization/demagnetization process that introduces distortion-causing resistance to the voice coil. Despite that, by necessity the SMC pole piece is located close to the magnet gap. Worre said, “We don’t lose energy to the surrounding iron materials, and the result is a dramatic reduction in distortion, particularly with odd-order harmonics.”
The Rubicon’s enclosure is fabricated from MDF, with the drivers attached directly to a one-inch-thick front baffle. Strategic internal bracing is used to reduce standing waves and resonances. There are three available finishes, all priced the same—black and white gloss lacquer and walnut veneer. The mid/bass drivers are situated in two equal-sized internal compartments, each with its own rear-firing port tuned to 36.5Hz. The 6 C employs two identical, 250W, self-oscillating, “Eigentakt” Class D amplifiers; one powers the tweeter unit and the other the two mid/bass drivers. The crossover is a hybrid of active DSP filtering and passive analog topology with hand-off frequencies of 800Hz (bottom to top midrange/bass driver), 2.6kHz (top mid/bass to dome tweeter) and 14kHz (dome to ribbon.) The system’s DAC lives in the loudspeaker, a Burr-Brown 1796 chipset. This is a PCM-only device, so those devoted to native DSD may be disappointed. Lars Worre wasn’t exactly sympathetic. “From a radio transmission point of view, we could have quite easily decided to transfer a DSD stream with oversampling corresponding to the commonly used 2.8MHz version,” he told me. “But it would have called for another platform for D-to-A conversion in the speaker. We decided to stay with the rather good-sounding 24-bit/96kHz basic format, as the use of true DSD sources is so commercially marginalized that we believe it will never, in reality, be an issue for actual customers.”
On the rear of each Rubicon 6 C, where you’d expect to find the binding posts, are an AC connector for the supplied power cord, a rocker-type power switch, a USB service port, and an RCA input to allow the loudspeaker to get line-level input from an external preamp or processor instead of DALI’s wireless Sound Hub. Above these connections is a small screen that illuminates to guide the wireless pairing process, and above that is the critical Link/Connect button. Each 6 C is provided with two metal bars that fit neatly into recesses on the speaker’s bottom to create a stabilizing outrigger structure. Four supplied spikes can be threaded into the bars; rubber bumpers are an alternative. A single grille attaches with plastic pins to cover all the drivers. Like most loudspeaker grilles, it’s not completely transparent sonically, and should be removed for critical listening—though the same party who OK’d the speakers’ admission to a shared living space because of the absence of cables may balk at the prospect of exposed drivers. So, it goes.
Russ Curry had an epiphany the first time he heard Kraftwerk’s landmark 1974 electronic-pop album Autobahn. “When I was 12 or 13 years old, I lived in the Midwest and like everyone else I listened to Boston or Kansas or stuff like that. It was boring,” says Curry, speaking on his cell phone while driving near his home in Iowa City. “The music and the culture seemed boring—I’ve since learned that it’s not what’s on the outside, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. Still, hearing Autobahn rung my bell in a big way. It led me to understand not only that maybe there was a different way to listen to music, but also that I could live my life differently.
“That music spoke very clearly to me.”
In 1988, after graduating from the University of Iowa, Curry founded Curious Music, a small-town Midwest label dedicated to electronic music. He started releasing works, in both solo and in collaborative configurations, by such legendary artists as the Swiss-born German electronic musician and composer Dieter Moebius and Hans-Joachim Roedelius, both of Cluster; the West German record producer and musician Conny Plank (who helped to define the krautrock genre); and British ambient-music composer Roger Eno, the younger brother of producer and musician Brian Eno.
“I was being exposed to all of this incredible music that I thought nobody knew about,” he says. “I felt like I had encountered this secret world with this secret musical language. I wanted to bring it to the world.”
But by 2001, before the advent of the internet and social media, Curry found it difficult to build an adequate audience and the label fell dormant. The 2017 death of David Bowie reignited his interest. “That gave me pause for thought,” he says of the reboot. “His death reminded me how short life is. I felt the work of Curious Music was unfinished. I found I still had the flame, the passion, to do this type of work.”
In the past four years, Curious has released or re-issued works by Roedelius, Brian Eno, former Windham Hill artist Tim Story, ex-Dream Academy member Kate St. John and Harold Budd, including the vinyl edition of Budd’s intriguing 1996 minimalist masterwork Luxa. Recent releases include Invisible Hand, Heavy Color’s soundtrack to an environmental-justice film documentary produced by Mark Ruffalo (reviewed in Issue 314); and Green Cone, by composer and visual artist Amanda Berlind, which is accompanied by a comic book. Upcoming projects include a solo album from Icelandic film composer Bjarni Biering plus Moebius Strips, a museum installation of work by the late Dieter Moebius of Cluster.
Last year, Curry also published the English translation of The Book: The Autobiography of Hans-Joachim Roedelius, a limited-edition hardbound work from the now 86-year-old music pioneer with a foreword by Brian Eno. The book marks a decades-long relationship between Curry and Roedelius that started with a fan letter. At 16, Curry wrote Roedelius to share his admiration for the visionary musician. Two months later, Roedelius replied with a hand-written letter accompanied by a dried flower. “I could not believe it,” Curry says. “It was like getting something from Mars. It had a huge effect on me. To get a friendly hand-written letter—and a flower—from this amazing talent, who to me was as important as the Beatles or Chuck Berry, just blew my mind.
“It stuck with me.”
His passion infuses the high-quality product released by Curious Music—Curry calls it the Curious Treatment. “I want my releases to be an experience,” he says. “It’s an artful product, not just a record release—there’s a spiritual experience for those that want that. We’re presenting music that has a deep emotional and spiritual aspect to it.”
Curry even puts “a little Easter egg” in each release, though he declines to elaborate. “That’s the reason I call the label Curious Music,” he says. “I want the music to create a curiosity within the listener, as happened to me when I was 12 years old. It lit a fire in my brain and in my heart. I want to make sure that all those things are there and that for whatever level the listener wants to engage in, it’s there for them.”
Turntables are inconvenient. That’s the nature of the beasts. They have to be large enough to accommodate and spin a 12″ vinyl disc, along with all the accoutrements. They range from hulking, massive monstrosities that take an entire village to move, down to minimalist cutouts that are barely more than a rotating platter and a tonearm floating on a pedestal. What’s exciting about the Pro-Ject Debut Carbon EVO ($499) is the potential for down-the-rabbit-hole tweaks married to almost absurd simplicity.
That simplicity is a beautiful illusion. The Carbon EVO is Pro-Ject’s upgrade to its popular entry-level deck, and it adds some very interesting features: an improved motor suspension, height-adjustable damped-metal feet, dampening material in the interior of the platter, and speed-swapping at the flip of a switch. Plus, Pro-Ject now bundles the EVO with the Sumiko Rainier cartridge, which is a solid performer. All this augments what was an already attractive, high-quality package, which includes Pro-Ject’s 8.6″ carbon-fiber tonearm with easy-to-use RCA outputs. The Carbon EVO doesn’t come with the built-in phono preamp that many manufacturers shove in there at this price point, but I definitely didn’t mind its absence.
The EVO feels premium. That was the first thing that came to mind. The sleek, glossy finish, the gorgeous tonearm, the solid weight…all made the Carbon EVO seem like a step beyond a standard entry-level deck. I love that it comes in more than one color, and while my review unit was a staid white, I wouldn’t mind checking out the satin-blue, or green, or yellow models. Aesthetics are important, maybe not as important as sound, but we do have to live with these things, after all, and I hate staring at ugly stuff.
But what impressed me the most was the easy setup, something that seems more and more necessary for an entry-level deck. Turntables are tweaky, and yes, very inconvenient, but the best entry models distill that set-up process into something manageable, something that won’t frustrate and completely annoy a first-time future audiophile. It’s an interesting dance of packaging and instructions, but Pro-Ject got it right. The EVO took me under ten minutes to set up, and everything felt dialed-in and ready to go almost immediately. Since I’ve installed more than a few of these entry-level ’tables at this point, I didn’t have to refer back to the manual over and over again; nonetheless, Pro-Ject did a fantastic job of making the steps as simple and straight-forward as possible. Kudos to the designers on that one. I particularly loved the adjustable feet, which made leveling the deck as easy as placing a bubble on the platter. I stuck to using only what Pro-Ject provided for the initial install, then double-checked everything using my own gear, and have to admit that it was really close to perfect from the start. I’d say a total novice could do this without any problems in a half hour or less, provided he was careful.
I’m particularly fussy, though, which shouldn’t be a surprise. So, in the spirit of that fuss, here are two small quibbles. First, Pro-Ject included a felt platter mat. I know, groans and eyerolls, lots of folks like felt, but I find it particularly abhorrent. I’ve just never liked felt, and this was no exception. Very minor thing, and easily remedied. Second, the power cord is strangely short. It barely reached my power receptacle, which was maybe four feet away. Again, this can be remedied with an aftermarket cord, but be aware of this, and reach out to your dealer or Pro-Ject to ensure that whatever cord you choose works fine.
Those gripes out of the way, in almost every other department the EVO really ticked my boxes and then some. The addition of electronic speed-switching, in particular, is a huge bonus, saving folks from having to lift off the platter and touch the belt every time they want to change from 33 to 45rpm. And, let’s be honest, I can’t imagine many people are actually using a belt-switching tool, so they’re grabbing the belt with their dirty, greasy fingers, and getting the whole drive mechanism filthy. With the EVO, you can eat as much fried food as you want and still jump between your favorite formats.
A lot of ink has been spilled pondering Patricia Barber’s offbeat, moody, and meandering pop/jazz classic Café Blue. Fueled with supersonic DNA, this 1994 audiophile chestnut has often been reissued. Pinning down the definitive vinyl edition can be daunting, but Impex Records has met the challenge. Sourcing Premonition Records’ 2011 remix, Impex employed the costly 1Step process, which bypasses the father/mother stages. With Kevin Gray handling the 1Step mastering chores, Barber’s interpretations spring from the grooves with discrete imaging, electric immediacy, and immersive ambience. A showcase for Barber’s crack trio of players, Barber’s distinctive voicings play unselfishly within the groove of the band. Tracks like “What a Shame” and Too Rich for My Blood” shine with finely wrought transients, shudder with deep-water bass extension, expressive percussion, and full bloom piano harmonics. Cymbals flare outward into the widest expanses of the soundstage. The sheer lack of veiling or groove noise testifies to the use of Neotech’s vinyl formulation, VR900 Supreme. Pressed at RTI, the 45rpm double LP is exquisitely slipcase-packaged and annotated. You’ve never heard Café Blue like this before.
Audio products sometimes reflect the place of their creation, embodying in their look and sound the cultural and aesthetic values of a region. That’s particularly true of the new Elba 2 from Rosso Fiorentino; this loudspeaker could not have been made anywhere but Italy. But Rosso Fiorentino isn’t located just anywhere in Italy. The company is deeply rooted in Florence, the jewel of the country and the birthplace of the Renaissance. The Elba 2 exudes the elegance, reverence for beauty, and artisanal heritage that has animated Florentine life since the 15th century. Rosso Fiorentino’s Florence-born founder, Francesco Rubenni, creates loudspeakers that reflect and honor that culture, something I discovered by living with the company’s $5000-per-pair Elba 2 reviewed here.
The Italian inspiration is apparent from the handsome matte-black cabinet flanked by beautiful walnut side panels, along with a baffle covered in textured black leather—very Italian. The elegant matte-black finish, called “silky matte black,” is a custom creation by Rosso Fiorentino. The speaker sits on an integral plinth that raises the cabinet bottom about 3″ from the floor. The Elba 2 is the smallest and most affordable speaker in Rosso Fiorentino’s six-speaker line, which extends to the ambitious $100,000 Florentia.
The Elba 2 is two-and-a-half way floorstander employing dual 6.5″ midrange/woofers mated to a 1″ silk-dome tweeter. Sensitivity is a moderate 88dB, and the 6-ohm nominal impedance doesn’t drop below 4 ohms. These specs suggest that the Elba 2 is a fairly easy load for an amplifier. Each woofer is reflex loaded out the rear panel through separate ports. The enclosure is formed from multi-layer panels of different materials for maximum damping and resonance control. To reduce internal standing waves and add a bit of visual elegance, the enclosure tapers slightly toward the rear. The Elba 2 is a significantly upgraded version of the original Elba, with new woofer/midrange drivers featuring fiberglass-coated cones, as well as a new motor structure. The aluminum ports have been redesigned to accommodate the new woofers’ characteristics. An all-new crossover is built from custom-made capacitors (by ClarityCap) along with custom inductors wound in Rosso Fiorentino’s factory.
Instrumental to the Elba 2’s design and that of all Rosso Fiorentino speakers is La Sala del Rosso (“the red room”), located in a historic castle just outside Florence. La Sala serves as the reference playback space for evaluating new speaker designs, and is also a frequently used performance and recording space. The large room’s acoustic design and treatments are world-class. Jonathan Valin and I visited Rosso Fiorentino after the Munich show in 2016, a trip that included an afternoon at La Sala listening to Rosso Fiorentino’s flagship speaker (see Jonathan’s sidebar report).
Back in my listening room, I drove the Elba 2 with my reference electronics and sources, as well as with the NAD C658 streaming DAC ($1645) and C298 power amplifier ($1995) reviewed in the February issue. The speakers were positioned well out into the room, about 9′ from the rear wall. I plopped them down in the approximate locations where I thought they would sound the best, put on some music to get them warmed up before experimenting with placement, and immediately knew that the Elba was an exceptional loudspeaker. I heard a refinement and an unforced ease that foreshadowed what was to come.
After I fine-tuned placement and toe-in and installed the spikes, the Elba 2 revealed itself to be an utterly natural-sounding transducer that instantly engaged my head and heart. When I evaluate products under review, my first inclination is usually to analyze the product’s sonic character and begin to catalog its strengths and weaknesses. After all, it’s the reviewer’s job to describe in detail exactly how the product sounds. Leaving the critical-listening mode and shifting to pleasure listening comes later. But the Elba 2 led me in a very different direction, one of engaging with the musical expression, of experiencing music rather than hearing sound. I quickly abandoned my Roon playlist of evaluation tracks in favor of a session of pure musical exploration and enjoyment. Despite the Elba 2’s entry-level status in the Rosso Fiorentino line, the speaker had a refined sophistication, elegance, sense of presence, and ability to convey music-making that was more in line with the best speakers in the $15,000-per-pair price range.
The following is a press release issued by Chord Electronics.
June 1, 2021 | Kent, UK – Chord Electronics’ 2yu digital interface for the 2go streamer/server is now shipping worldwide, following its 2020 reveal. The 2yu connects to the existing 2go streamer/server to create Chord Electronics’ first-ever network bridge, ready for use with DACs, DAC-equipped A/V devices and Chord Electronics’ Hugo M Scaler.
2yu is specifically designed for 2go: the resultant network bridge offers high-resolution streaming from both wired Ethernet and wireless sources (using 2.4 GHz Wi-Fi or A2DP Bluetooth), including popular streaming services such as Qobuz, Tidal and Internet radio; the combination is also Roon Ready.
In addition to streaming, 2go’s 2x 2 TB-rated SD card slots also enable the combination as an audiophile-grade music server, solid-state being the preferred storage medium for sound quality. The 2go’s SD storage capacity has been tested up to 4 TB (at the time of writing).
2yu securely connects to 2go, adding optical, S/PDIF coaxial and BNC (50 and 75 ohms, respectively) digital outputs, plus a cleverly integrated, highly flexible USB-A output giving a wide range of connectivity options. Owners of Chord Electronics’ Hugo M Scaler can also upscale the output (before passing to a DAC), taking sound performance to the next level.
The 2go/2yu combination is readily updatable with over-the-air firmware updates and ships with Chord Electronics’ latest 2go update (v. 1.5.0), which introduces new radio-listening and SD card album playback features, plus improved stability. The new firmware follows the release (in May) of the latest version of Gofigure, Chord Electronics’ set-up and configuration app companion.
The 2go/2yu combination is easily controllable using any one of several popular UPnP control point apps for both Android and iOS devices; Gofigure adds additional set up convenience, management features and a library playback option.
The 2go/2yu also benefits from gapless audio, DoP/Bit Perfect support and AirPlay support, and is fully DLNA-compliant (server/renderer). 2yu boasts 2,000 MIPS (million instructions per second) of processing power, automatic downsampling (for use with sample rate-limited legacy DACs), plus a low-jitter audio phase lock loop.
2yu is handmade in the UK using aircraft-grade aluminium and features four polychromatic spherical controls governing output selection, power, mute and dim functions.
Price and availability
2yu is available now priced at £449 (It requires a 2go, priced at £995).
Chris Hillman has pure harmony in his blood. In his new autobiography, Time Between: My Life as a Byrd, Burrito Brother, and Beyond (BMG), the veteran bassist/vocalist and country rock pioneer recounts the many ups and down of his six-decades-long career, a good bit of it spent uplifting the melodic fortunes of seminal groups like the Byrds, the Flying Burrito Brothers, and the Desert Rose Band before taking flight as a solo artist. The one constant throughline for his remarkable artistic arc is quite simple: the man knows how to harmonize.
“I was always drawn to two-, three-, and four-part harmony. Where did I get that? Bluegrass,” Hillman confirms. After harmonizing with the likes of Vern and Rex Gosdin in the Hillmen and Bernie Leadon in the Scottsville Squirrel Barkers, Hillman “wanted to try other things,” which ultimately led to his joining the Byrds as a teenager in October 1964. “The Byrds came along at the perfect time,” Hillman observes. “Of course, I was enamored with the Beatles like everyone else my age. But I’m so blessed I got to be in the Byrds. We didn’t always hit them out of the park, but most of our material has stood the test of time.” (This understatement lands approximately, oh, eight miles high.)
The Byrds initially made their chart-topping bones with electrified, 12-string-Rickenbacker-enhanced covers of some key, folk-centric Bob Dylan tracks—“Mr. Tambourine Man,” “All I Really Want to Do,” and “My Back Pages” (Hillman’s favorite) among them. Thing is, when the band first heard an acetate of Dylan’s “Mr. Tambourine Man” in August 1964, they found he recorded it in 2/4. “Yeah, it was a mid-tempo, bluegrass-type song,” Hillman recalls, but The Byrds transmogrified it into a signature No. 1 hit in 1965. “Bob loved it! After he heard our version, he said, ‘Man, this is great. You can dance to it!’ Maybe we helped push him into plugging in, I don’t know. But I do think we were, no pun intended, instrumental in getting Bob to go electric. I think he really wanted to do that to expand his sound.” (On numerous occasions, Dylan has cited both the Beatles and the Byrds as helping to influence his then-controversial decision to go electric in the summer of 1965.)
Once the Byrds were effectively grounded, Hillman kept the harmony train a-rolling with Leadon and fellow country-folk icon Gram Parsons in the Flying Burrito Brothers, most especially through the Everly Brothers-meet-cowboys-on-acid vibes permeating their seminal February 1969 debut album, The Gilded Palace of Sin. “I love the first Burritos album. I wish we had recorded it better, but it’s water down the stream now,” Hillman admits. “That album holds up as a good piece of music—and I’ll tell you why. It’s because of the material. Sonically, we had a phenomenal engineer, Henry Lewy, who was really a jazz guy. But for some weird reason, he mixed our vocals—which were basically a duet between Gram and me—as one voice on one side, and one on the other.”
Lewy’s hard-panned vocals decision would have interesting side effects on other key singers of the era. For example, Hillman recounts when Parsons acolyte and collaborator Emmylou Harris first endeavored to tackle the classic Gilded track “Sin City,” she thought Parsons’ tenor part was the lead, and Hillman’s lead vocal was the melody. Before sitting in with his band a few years ago, Harris told Hillman, “You know, I don’t think I learned to sing this right.”
One clear lesson Hillman learned from decades spent in the recording studio is how to capture the right performance in the moment. “That’s the best thing an engineer or producer can do,” he believes. “You want the finished product to sound as organic and as real as possible. You want it to be so comfortable that you can totally put yourself into it, whether you’re playing the solo, singing, or whatever you’re doing. The music and the sound will come out naturally. The more relaxed I am singing and playing takes care of the sonic part of it. If I’m not comfortable and I’m not doing a good performance, that’ll cancel it out sounding good anyway.”
Some early advice shared by Byrds manager/producer Jim Dickson still holds water to this day. “He said, ‘Go for more substance, and go for more depth. You want to make a record you can be proud of in 40 years,’” Hillman clarifies before rightly concluding, “Boy, was that ever true.” Naturally, we’re all much younger than that now.
Almost everyone has had the experience of taking a recording around to various rooms at an audio show and noticing how different it sounds in different places Some might say this makes audio interesting, these various different sounds. But from the viewpoint of someone making a recording it is very disconcerting. When I was working years ago with Kavi Alexander of Water Lily Acoustics on his recording of the Philadelphia Orchestra, it was really important to me to know as nearly as possible what listeners would hear. And the variability among systems was, indeed, disconcerting. A recording is ultimately a communication. The people making the recording have an idea of what you are intended to hear. Some consistency is needed. (Eventually anxiety was abated when I heard the recording, with gratifying results, on what I considered the best audio system I had encountered, the RFZ [reflection free zone] room at Focus Recordings in Copenhagen.)
One of the features of the audio show experience is that more often than not the sound that seems most consistent and accurate is not from behemoth speakers with large numbers of drivers, but from small simple speakers. And surprisingly often, these speakers that are maximally truthful come from Great Britain.
The whole idea of the super-truthful small monitor almost inarguably begins with the Spendor BC-1 back in 1969. But the idea spread over British speaker design as a whole. I have an anthology of recommendations from What HiFi from the mid-1980s, which contains this memorable description of a certain speaker-designer’s work (not as it happens from Spendor): ”XXX improves his mastery of the response curve year by year.” One surely would not have expected just that description in a U.S. magazine at that time, nor indeed often since. Of course, there is more to the sound of a speaker than “the response curve,” but the message is clear that there is an explicit goal of true neutrality. And that same anthology praises the Spendor BC-1 for its success in sounding like live music in direct comparison tests. People were on the lookout for sonic truth.
This all came to mind when I encountered the Spendor A4. Of course, Spendor is a different company than the Spendor of BC-1 days. The company is no longer associated with the founding Hughes family (Spencer and Dorothy Hughes founded Spendor originally, and their son Derek Hughes became Spendor’s designer later). The present Spendor A4 design differs from the typical Spendor designs of long ago in ways I shall explain later. But the idea of making a speaker that is tonally truthful apparently lives on. And certainly, as in the phrase quoted, mastery of the response curve is in evidence.
In fact, truth to tell, my attention was attracted to this particular Spendor model specifically by the flatness of its measured response. I seldom choose what I would like to review by reading other magazines, preferring to rely on my own listening impressions from shows and private reports from other listeners, whose judgment I trust. But when I read Keith Howard’s technical description in Hi Fi News, where he described the A4 as having the “flattest response of any loudspeaker we have measured in recent years, whether active or passive,” I simply could not resist. I was hoping that perhaps here was something like an answer to what recordings actually sound like.
What Really Happened, and the General Nature of the Speakers
First of all, my measurements of the A4s were consistent with Keith Howard’s. Measurements, for whatever they are worth in terms of predicting audible behavior, are predictable and reproducible: Done correctly, they come out the same way. But something turned up that was a cautionary tale. The A4s are smooth and unusually flat in the ±dB sense. But, as one could see, and I had seen in Keith Howard’s measurements, the minus part is the region below 1kHz and the plus part is the region above 1kHz (except for a narrow-band dip around 3kHz). So I expected that some smooth EQ would be needed to get the balance to my liking—and to being correct as I see/hear “correct.” But I figured that the smoothness of the speakers would make this practical. I shall come back to that in a little while, but first let me tell you about the general nature of the speakers.