Released in 1950 as a 10-inch EP, Sing and Dance with Frank Sinatra marked another turning point in a career that began with dance orchestras before turning to crooning ballads, only to—with this augmented 12-inch LP release—blossom into the swinging, finger-snapping, soon-to-be rat-packing Sinatra etched in memory. Side One gathers the original eight tunes—“Lover,” “It’s Only a Paper Moon,” “My Blue Heaven,” “You Do Something To Me,” “When You’re Smiling,” etc.—while the flip side features bonus and alternate takes as well as some fun studio interplay. Before booze, smoke, and age roughed up his voice, here is Sinatra at his youthful finest. And my do he and his band deliver the goods. The sound lacks both frequency and dynamic extremes—as one would expect given the vintage here—but it hardly matters when the heart of the action, Sinatra’s voice, is presented with such immediacy and refreshing purity. Being recorded in mono, which as we know does not present stereo-like imaging, Sinatra stands front and center, with the orchestra clearly arrayed behind him with a suggestion of depth. Impex’s stellar reissue (the cover alone is worth the admission price) is a must-have for Sinatra lovers.
Retuning to well-worn platters from my collection, The Grateful Dead’s “Box of Rain” from American Beauty allowed the Rega to strut its stuff with this song’s country-tinged blend of driving rhythm, layered vocal harmony, and twanging guitars, while the following “Friend of the Devil” had me smiling as I marveled at Phil Lesh’s beautifully melodic, groove-laying bass licks.
Finally, one record I return to over and over is clearly not the finest recording on my shelves. Way more importantly, however, it is among the music I cherish the most: Martha Argerich’s DG recording of Ravel’s enchanting Gaspard de la nuit. Yeah, I know, it’s a pianistic tour de force. But that’s not why I love this piece. Argerich’s virtuosity is undoubtedly the conduit for the music, but she never draws attention to how she’s playing, gifting us instead with an artistry that shows why this nocturnal music has been a lifelong staple of her repertoire.
I’ve probably played this LP on every turntable that’s been through my system over the past quarter-century. Needless to say with varying results. The LP can sound a bit thin and clangy, harsh as breaking glass, when not well tracked, or, while never exactly beautiful, neutral enough to allow this special woman’s artistry to shine past the recording’s technical shortfalls. Which, I’m pleased to report, is how the Rega set performed—conveying the silent background from which the piano emerges, the nuanced dynamic shading, cat-like trills, explosively percussive dynamic punctuation, and sheer beauty that makes Gaspard special to me. All the while the Ania on the RB330 tracked gracefully, without any audible distress even during the most challenging passages.
Wrapping up, while the P6/Ania doesn’t deliver the ultimate punch, detail, or transporting emotional thrill of the very finest vinyl playback gear money can buy, that’s hardly the point, or the design goal. The point is that like all of the best and longest-lived audio gear, the P6 compels us to play record after record, to revisit music we love, and explore music we have yet to discover. To say that the P6/Ania sets a new standard for Rega ’tables at this price point is not damning with faint praise; it’s instead high praise for what Rega has accomplished, and continues to, as its Naiad technology keeps expanding throughout the company’s formidable lineup.
Specs & Pricing
Type: Belt drive, unsuspended turntable
Speeds: 33.3, 45
Dimensions: 17.5″ x 14.5″ x 5.5″ (with dustcover)
Weight: 11.5 lbs.
Price: $2195 with Ania moving-coil cartridge (as reviewed), $1595 with no cartridge, $1995 with Exact mm, $2495 with Ania Pro mc
Ania Moving-Coil Cartridge
Tracking Force Range: 1.75–2g
Input load impedance: 100 ohms
Output impedance: 10 ohms
Nominal output voltage: 350μV
THE SOUND ORGANISATION (U.S. Distributor)
1009 Oakmead Drive
Arlington, Texas 76011
The following is a press release issued by PS Audio.
Boulder, Colorado, May 4, 2021 – PS Audio has released its Sunlight firmware upgrade for its PerfectWave DirectStream DAC and DirectStream Jr. The new OS enables the DirectStream DAC to deliver an extraordinary new level of musical realism and improved performance including quad-rate DSD capability, and significantly enhances the audio quality of the DirectStream Jr.
“The sonic improvements provided by the Sunlight are not subtle – it’s like getting an entirely new DAC,” said Paul McGowan, PS Audio CEO. “Sunlight is the result of testing more than 20 iterations of code and months of programming, listening and fine-tuning by our digital engineering guru Ted Smith, senior hardware engineer Darren Myers and others on the development team. It’s the ultimate expression of PS Audio’s ‘mountaintop’ series of upgrades.”
The Sunlight upgrade is made possible because the PS Audio PerfectWave DirectStream DAC is one of the few DACs on the market that is fully programmable, by means of its FPGA (Field-Programmable Gate Array) core processing engine. This flexible architecture allows every parameter that controls the DirectStream DAC to be configured and tweaked.
With the Sunlight OS, the DirectStream DAC will now accept quad-rate DSD via its I2S input. By precisely controlling the clock timing of the signals in the various stages of the circuit, noise and jitter are significantly reduced. The sonic results of the Sunlight upgrade are a greater sense of resolution and space, a more natural tonal balance with improved top-end extension, better micro and macro dynamics, and a much more involving and engaging musical presentation overall.
Sunlight OS for the PS Audio PerfectWave DirectStream DAC can be downloaded free of charge by clicking on this link. Sunlight OS for the DirectStream Jr. can be downloaded at this link. In addition, Sunlight can be purchased pre-loaded onto an SD card (for the DirectStream DAC or USB stick (for the DirectStream Jr.) for $29 by clicking here.
Corrections and Criticisms
In my review of the C52 I mistakenly said that the on-board equalizer could be set to retain settings for individual inputs. This is not true, but what you can do is set individual levels for each input so that when switching among them you don’t get sudden drops or, much worse, leaps in volume. One programming option I didn’t mention includes setting inputs to default to mono, particularly useful to vinyl enthusiasts with a dedicated mono-pickup in a separate arm. With two completely separate phono stages, the C53 can be programmed so that one switches to mono as soon as it’s selected.
Despite my almost immodest enthusiasm about the C52, I am not wholly uncritical of it or its successor. There are two omissions that should be rectified in future iterations. The first is the absence of a Fletcher-Munson loudness-compensation circuit. When I asked a company representative why it wasn’t included on the C52 and now the C53, he told me the powers that be were concerned it would detract from the echt audiophile “image” of the unit. Stuff and nonsense! In terms of sales, McIntosh is by far the industry leader in the high-end audio market. If any company can afford to thumb its nose at this sort of snotty stupidity, it’s surely this one. When it comes to listening at very soft levels, there is no substitute for well-designed loudness compensation, and as deployed in its C22 preamplifier McIntosh’s is the best I’ve experienced (see my review in TAS or at theabsolutesound.com). Another company representative told me the onboard equalizer could serve that function. Well, yes and no. Yes, in the sense that you could use the three lowest-controls to boost the bass and come up with something workable. But since there’s no way to retain the settings in a memory for easy recall, you’d have to reset them every time you listen at low levels or not use the equalizer for anything else. But another and far more important reason is that the Fletcher-Munson curves were arrived at after careful and meticulous experimentation and research; it is effectively impossible to replicate their precise contours with tone controls and equalizers. Also, as employed in the C22, the compensation is linked to listening level. This means that it increases inversely to volume, applying more compensation as level is reduced and less as it is raised. In other words, you need and want a dedicated circuit accessible or defeatable with a flip of a switch.
Another important omission is an external processing loop, i.e., an EPL, or a tape monitor loop. If, for example, you want to use some sort of signal processor—say, a 31-band equalizer—your only option is between the preamp and power amp, most emphatically not the preferred insertion place. Again, you want something you can flip in and out for immediate comparisons. The C53 does have a fixed output, but that’s mostly for home-theater bypass—it’s not a loop. The kicker as regards both of these omissions? A McIntosh spokesperson informed me that since the introduction of C52, the two features buyers and prospective buyers have overwhelmingly asked for are an EPL loop and the C22’s loudness compensation!
After two years with the C52 performing flawlessly as the heart of my system, I like it more than ever, for which reason I applaud McIntosh for resisting the temptation to reinvent the wheel with the C53. The new DA2 digital audio module is a worthy improvement, easily justifying the thousand-dollar price increase, while preserving everything that made its predecessor so peerless a success with respect to ergonomic functionality and outstanding performance.
Here is how I concluded my review of the previous model, only with the new model number in place: “The C53 replaces a whole shelf-full of components by rolling linestage, phonostages, DAC, equalizer, and headphone amp into a single elegant box that, while not small, is hardly large in view of everything it does. I can’t think of another component that manages to do so much so superlatively well, with no compromises in any ways that matter to me as an audio critic and music lover. It’s a standing rebuke to the folly of minimalism and the snobbishness of those who insist that only separates can scale the peaks of audio artistry. Indeed, I’d lay crisp new bills it would hold its own against the most expensive preamps out there, even bettering some, yielding a little to others. If that little—and it really is miniscule—is important to you, and you have the one- to two-hundred grand required to buy them plus the associated separates that are built into the C53, then have a party. But know that none of them will get you its combination of state-of-the-art performance, integration, convenience, functions, and features, to say nothing of its great lineage, battleship construction, and looks that just radiate class, taste, and timeless style.” No need to add or subtract a word. A great design has been made greater still.
Specs & Pricing
Inputs: Six unbalanced, two balanced, one mm phono, one mc phono, two coaxial, three optical, one USB, one MCT, and one HDMI ARC
Outputs: Three pairs main unbalanced, one pair balanced
Frequency response: 20Hz–20kHz, +0, –0.5dB, @ 0.003% THD
Rated output: 2.5V unbalanced, 5V balanced (main output), 450mV (fixed output)
Signal-to-noise ratio (A-weighted): High level: –100dB below rated output; mm phono: –82dB below 5mV input; mc phono: –80dB below 0.5mV input
Maximum output voltage: 8V RMS unbalanced, 16V RMS balanced
Input impedance: 20k ohms, balanced and unbalanced
Output impedance: 100 ohms unbalanced, 200 ohms balanced
Dimensions: 17-1/2″ x 7-5/8″ x 18″
Weight: 28 lbs.
2 Chambers Street
Binghamton, NY 13903
San Marcos, CA, May 4, 2021 – Audience today announced the introduction of its Studio ONE and Studio TWO Series interconnects and speaker cables, designed to offer exceptional high-end sound quality. The Studio ONE and Studio Two are available as RCA and XLR (balanced) interconnects, and speaker cable. In addition, the Studio ONE lineup includes phono and headphone cables and a new power cord.
The Studio ONE Series replaces the previous Au24SE cable line and offers upgraded performance at no increase in price, through the use of high-purity OFC (oxygen-free copper) wire and an improved XLPE (cross-linked polyethylene) dielectric material. In addition, Studio ONE cables receive Audience’s proprietary EHVP Extreme High-Voltage Process, which applies high voltages in specific combinations in order to align the crystalline structure of the various metals used in the cables and facilitate more efficient signal transfer – and better sound.
Audience’s Studio TWO cables are the successor to the previously-available Conductor SE lineup. They utilize the same core wire as the Studio ONE without the EHVP treatment, and feature different connectors. Like the Studio ONE, these cables deliver significantly better performance than the models they replace, with improved dynamics, coherence and realism and without an increase in price.
John McDonald, president of Audience noted, “Thanks to advances in our manufacturing processes and ability to obtain better materials, our new Studio ONE and Studio TWO products offer even better value to discerning audiophiles. They deliver the exceptional quality of sound that Audience has become acclaimed for, offering a rich, detailed and natural presentation with wide dynamics, spaciousness and an accurate tonal balance. They deliver superb transient response and a wealth of musical information without ever sounding ‘hard’ or ‘etched,’ and are ideal for a wide range of high-end audio components and systems.”
Like all Audience products, Studio ONE and Studio TWO interconnects, speaker cables and power cords are made in the USA from premium materials, to the highest standards of manufacturing quality. Audience Studio ONE cables are available now at suggested retail prices starting at $1,199 for a meter pair of RCA interconnects. Studio TWO cables are also available now with suggested retail prices starting at $699 for a meter pair of RCA interconnects. Please consult an authorized Audience dealer for pricing on additional lengths and configurations.
I associate Sonus faber with luxurious floorstanders in windswept shapes with finely grained and glossy wood finishes. Even the lowercase “f” in faber somehow makes them sound fancier. So when I was told that Sf had a new “entry-level” bookshelf for review, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The Lumina ($899) took me off guard and flipped a lot of my preconceived notions about what a bookshelf speaker in this price range sounds, looks, and feels like. In many ways, this review is about expectations: how marketing sets them, how product categories reinforce them, and how some products occasionally redefine them.
The Lumina is a vented-box, two-way bookshelf speaker that measures a miniscule 5.8″ x 11″ x 8.4″ and weighs less than 10 pounds. I don’t normally lead with a product’s measurements, but these things are really small—borderline desktop size. They’re much slimmer than the Wharfedale bookshelves I compared them with, and are the smallest non-desktop speakers I’ve had in my listening space to date. It is only natural for people to wonder whether a set of speakers so tiny can play loud enough to fill a large room and dig down deep enough to create a sense of appreciable bass. While I don’t want to spoil the review, I’ll go ahead and spoil it anyway: Yes and yes, they most certainly do.
The tweeter is Sonux faber’s 29mm Damped Apex Dome featured in the Sonetto series, and the mid/woofer is a 120mm custom-designed driver with a diaphragm made from a blend of cellulose pulp and other natural fibers. The speaker’s nominal impedance is 4 ohms, and its sensitivity is 84dB, which means the Lumina is going to be a bit harder to drive. From my own experience, I would stick with Sf’s suggested power guideline of 30–100Wpc, though I’d aim for the upper end of that range.
My review pair came in a wenge wood finish, but the Luminas are also available in piano black and walnut. The wenge versions include sleek silver accents around the tweeters and mid/woofers, which lend the Luminas an exquisite sense of gravitas that is strange considering their size. Best of all, the main body is wrapped in a soft, dark leather that feels great to touch and looks fantastic. Overall, I’d say these speakers are high among the most visually appealing pieces of gear I’ve ever had in my listening room. I would have gladly placed them in my living room if I didn’t have a toddler who would immediately destroy them.
Of course, speakers are only as good as they sound, and physical attributes don’t always reveal a product’s inner worth. I know you’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover, even though everyone’s always judging based on covers, but in this instance, I’d say the form factor of the Lumina does suggest something about the way it’s going to sound, just not in the way you might expect.
First up on my turntable was a new record from Nat Birchall, a UK multi-instrumentalist and jazz musician. His spiritual, Sun Ra-inspired Mysticism of Sound felt a lot like a pandemic album: self-produced with Birchall playing every instrument. Which is actually a great thing, because Mysticism of Sound reveals a wide and arcing breadth of music. While Birchall’s playing is melodic and multifarious, I couldn’t help but notice the low end first and foremost. Bookshelf speakers don’t typically create powerful bass, and while that was certainly true to some extent in this case, I was still absolutely astounded by the big sounds coming from the Luminas. Considering their tiny dimensions, they shouldn’t have given me a very palpable sense of the low end, and yet never once did I feel the need to turn them up to compensate for their size.
The track “Inner Pathway” is a meandering musical journey with a simple cymbal tap keeping precise time, while Birchall’s sax plays atop a mix of bass and synth. Sax mids were liquid smooth, and the nice sax tone shined through. The synth and bass combination made for a big, deep sonic landscape, and I was impressed with the Luminas’ ability to reproduce a clear and crisp midrange, while still digging deep for the rhythmic bass. It was a comforting and intriguing sound, not at all what I expected from these tiny boxes.
I switched over to the Speaker’s Corner reissue of the 1956 album The Jazz Messengers. Art Blakey plays the only way he knows how: big, bold, and in control. The Luminas kept his fast-paced snare rolls on “Infra-Rae” in tight focus, while his call-and-response solo toward the end of the track was booming and had just enough depth for the kicks to resonate. There’s nothing like a Blakey fill smashing me in the teeth; I always ask for more when he’s through. I want and need a pair of speakers to recreate Blakey’s impact in an almost painful way, and while I can’t say I was left with a gaping chest wound from the Luminas’ low end, I was very impressed by the overall sound. For me, that tactile response, where the bass isn’t just heard but also felt, is the hallmark of perfect bottom octaves. The Luminas simply can’t push enough air to make a kick drum feel like a kick drum. But they certainly do sound like a kick drum, which is a feat in itself.
The live album East/West by Ill Considered features meandering and repetitive, looping, free-jazz freak-outs. The energy of this live show remained solidly grounded through the Luminas, and the mingling of the dual saxophones with Emre Ramazanoglu’s drums and Leon Brichard’s bass created a blanket of twisting sounds. The saxophones were front and center, and the Luminas, once again, built a nice, deep soundstage while reproducing just enough ambient crowd noise to make the space feel like it was alive. Finesse and speed are particularly important when it comes to a live album like East/West, and the Luminas remained on beat and engaging. Drums had enough heft and cymbals had enough sparkle, and the distorted bass rumbled just right below it all. During my listen to these sparkling LPs, I was never tempted to swap in my bigger main speakers for more powerful impact, which I think says a lot for the Luminas.
Speaking of sheer size and scope, I recently received VMP’s reissue of one of my all-time Top Five albums, Spiritualized’s Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space. It’s an emotional, maximalist slog through a breakup, and a great way to test speakers. It’s the sort of album where more is never enough, and the end result is an enormous, gorgeous sonic landscape. The third track “I Think I’m In Love” starts out with spacey synth over a simple intermittent bass line. Through less than ideal speakers, it can sound a little hollow and the soundstage doesn’t feel deep enough. But the Lumina did it justice, especially as the song progressed and more and more instruments, noises, and voices were added to the mix.
Finally, I turned to my latest obsession: The Tone Poets series from Blue Note Records. Herbie Hancock’s My Point of View was his second release as a leader and features a fantastic septet. Anthony Williams’s drumming was tight and on point. His cymbals shimmered with just enough sparkle, and his frequent, interesting flourishes and fills sound tight and solid. Tone Poet records are some of the best sounding in my collection and a great test of any system. The Luminas had superior soundstage separation and depth, with Hancock’s piano dead center and the drums shoved off in the right channel. The opening track on Side B, “King Cobra,” begins with a trumpet solo from Donald Byrd, which sounded smooth and tight, never venturing into the harsh and grating, despite getting fairly loud.
I’ll admit to having some preconceived ideas about how smallish bookshelf speakers were going to sound. Just because of their size, I assumed they wouldn’t have deep bass heft, and they probably wouldn’t have the tightest sense of rhythm and dynamics. However, the Luminas proved me very, very wrong. No, they aren’t going to give you heart palpitations with their sub-bass rumbles. (Again, physics is a thing.) But the Luminas certainly changed my mind about how small bookshelf speakers are supposed to sound—or can sound. As far as I’m concerned, these are the new sub-$1k bookshelf speakers to beat. Just keep in mind those power amp requirements. Highly recommended to anyone looking for fantastic sound and beautiful style in a surprisingly compact package.
Specs & Pricing
Driver complement: 29mm Damped Apex Dome tweeter, 120mm paper-cone mid/woofer
Frequency response: 65Hz–24kHz
Impedance: 4 ohms
Sensitivity: 84dB SPL (2.83V/1m)
Finish: Wenge, black, walnut
Dimensions: 5.8″ x 11″ x 8.4″
Weight: 9.7 lbs. each
SONUS FABER S.P.A.
36057 Arcugnano (VI)
A bit of housekeeping: this performance of Beethoven’s Trio, Op. 9, No. 3, came out on the Janaki Trio’s 2006 Debut CD along with pieces by Penderecki, Barabba, and Lefkowitz; Debut is also available in hi-res (24/88.2) at HDtracks and Qobuz. Yarlung released the Penderecki and Barabba on a 45rpm platter a few years ago, and that landed a spot on our Super LP List; this Beethoven belongs there too. The impressively natural miking picks up the instruments’ resonance and overtones but misses most extraneous noises. The LP has more warmth and hall richness than the hi-res, putting you right in the first row rather than at a remove. Beethoven was known for setting some of his most dramatic works in C minor: this trio joins the Pathétique Sonata, the Coriolan Overture, the Fifth Symphony, and the final piano sonata in that world. Three instruments rather than a full string quartet, however, means turbulent emotions are balanced by transparent textures in a delectable tension. Also, the piece stands at the crossroads of the Classical and Romantic eras, its thunder countered by wit and laughter. The Janaki Trio conveys all this in a vivid, pulsating performance.
I can’t tell you how many different record mats I’ve tried over the last four or five decades. They’ve come and gone with the regularity of seasons. Some have been sticky; some have been stiff; some have been thin; some have been fat; some have been as springy as balls of dough; and some have been as hard as unripened plums. All of them have claimed to provide an improved (i.e., lower noise and jitter) interface between LP and platter. And all of them have made a sonic difference—not enough of a difference, however, to earn an enduring place in my system (or my memory). As the old saw has it, different isn’t necessarily better; more often than not, it’s just different.
Holger Stein’s Pi Carbon Signature record mat is an exception. Not only is it different; it is also better—at least it is if you’re looking for a closer semblance of the absolute sound. If you’re looking for spotlit detail, then it won’t be for you. (And neither will anything else from SteinMusic.)
However, before I get to Pi Carbon Signature sonics, let me tell you what it is: It is a $650 sheet of paper is what it is. (I’m going to start a new paragraph now to give you time to pick up a pen and begin writing that angry letter.)
Of course, it’s not “ordinary” paper. If it were, you could pull a page from TAS (or if you wanted something more prosciutto-like, a page from Stereophile), punch a spindle-sized hole in it, and slap it on your turntable. No, this paper is hand-made in Japan from the same trees (usually mulberry and fig) that tapa cloth is made from. After being dried on wood, the tapa paper is sent to SteinMusic in Mülheim, Germany, where it is impregnated with SteinMusic Maestro Lacquer—“a varnish made out of the most precious natural resins in a unique composition, optimized for perfect resonance control.”
Though it consists of varnished paper and some sort of carbon additive, the Pi Carbon Signature is not as thin and light as you might imagine. It’s got some substance to it, though not enough substance (unless it’s fastened down to the platter via the little tabs of tape on its rear side) to keep it from occasionally sticking to the backs of your records. Which means that, now and then, you may have to peel the Pi from the LP and resituate it on your record player before playing Side B. This is, admittedly, a pain. But, with the Pi Carbon Signature, it is part of the price of doing business. The other part—the good part—is the effect this mat has on the presentation.
Since I started using the SteinMusic Pi, I’ve been searching for a way to explain how this sheet of paper changes sonics. Perhaps it would be best to do this is by analogy.
Think of the sound of a recording on which musicians were taped in sound booths via individual mics; then think of the sound of a recording on which the musicians were taped ensemble in an actual hall, studio, or club via a Blumlein pair or a trio of omnis. The instruments in the separately miked sound-booth setup may seem more individuated and distinct, but the sense of organicism—of ensemble music-making in a large, shared acoustic space, (highlighted in the Blumlein or spaced-omni setups)—will be greatly reduced or nonexistant.
It is this realistic and sonically attractive “organicism” that the Pi Carbon Signature adds to each and every LP, no matter how it was recorded. This more organic presentation is something the Pi shares with almost all SteinMusic tweaks, including its H2Plus Boxes, Stones, Stars, and Suns room treatments. The inexplicability of this more organic effect is something else the Pi shares with Holger Stein’s doo-dads.
How a piece of varnished Japanese paper can consistently improve the sound of a vinyl record riding atop it is beyond me. All I can tell you is that it does—that the very thing that makes many LPs sound like LPs, like mosaics made of individually recorded bits and pieces, is replaced by something that makes those bits and pieces seem more like interrelated parts of a sonic whole.
This organic effect is not without a downside. As I said earlier, if you’re listening for highlighted details (and, to a certain extent, a vast soundstage), the more “continuous,” more compact, less analytical sound of the Pi Carbon Signature may not be your sheet of Japanese paper. If, on the other hand, you’re looking for a closer approximation of the real thing—looking for analog playback that is very much more like tape playback—then $650 doesn’t seem too much to spend.
Being stranded courtesy of the Covid-19 pandemic has a way of stripping life down to its essentials. Your social circle shrinks; your creative, cultural, and hedonistic outlets are sharply curtailed. What’s left is time to mull that which is missing—and to appreciate what remains.
Wouldn’t that be a great subject for an album? Jeff Tweedy thought so. Best known as the frontman and creative force behind the indie band Wilco, Tweedy spent the better part of 2020 writing a set of thoughtful, elemental songs. He then culled them into an album that mimics today’s stripped-down yet somehow self-sufficient feel. The result, Love is the King, is both the perfect descriptor of inner life—the life of the heart and mind—during this pandemic, and a grace-infused antidote to our trials.
The songs that make up this remarkable collection are models of craft and wit. Though they encompass the same signature styles, chords, and progressions Tweedy’s been mining for years, each takes at least one unexpected turn that makes it unique. Further, every note, whether melodic, foundational, or a flourish, makes a critical contribution to the whole—or it wouldn’t be there. This lack of the expendable and gratuitous is both refreshing and, in these times, resonant.
The lyrics, too, are beautifully forged. Their subject is what Tweedy sees as the central lesson of the pandemic: what you miss the most is love and connection; yet, paradoxically, those very elements are what get you through. Every track, no matter how far-flung its outward subject, comes back to this theme. Again, Tweedy offers reassuring constancy, but also keeps things fresh by conveying his theme through an ever-changing stream of metaphors.
I fear I’ve depicted an album that’s somber and humorless. Let me assure you that Love is the King is neither of these things. Some songs are indeed thoughtful, but they’re also relatable and infused with a stark honesty that’ll grab you by the throat. “Even I Cajn See” begins, “If I may have your attention please/To tell you about my wife/And what she means to me.” Then, in an ode teeming with admiration, respect, and a touch of envy, he proceeds to do just that. On the other hand, tracks like “Natural Disaster” are upbeat and playful: “I’ve never been blown by the winds of a hurricane/Never been in a flood/I’ve never been buried up to my neck in mud/But I’ve fallen in love/And that’s enough/Of a natural/Disaster for me.”
Most of these songs are acoustic, mid-tempo folk-rockers, though Tweedy spices things up with country inflections and tasty guitar solos. Normally, Wilco members would provide these embellishments, but that obviously wasn’t possible here. So Tweedy did what so many pandemic-isolated artists have done: he played most of the instruments himself. Fortunately, he’s plenty proficient not only on his mainstay acoustic guitar, but also on bass, pedal steel, and electric lead. Indeed, among the album’s highlights are the cocky solo in “Natural Disaster,” and the poignant, acoustic duet in “Even I Can See.”
The only elements Tweedy himself couldn’t supply were drums and harmonies. Unable to turn to his band, he enlisted some musically-adept family members. Conveniently, among his isolation “pod” are Tweedy’s sons Spencer and Sammy, who contribute drums and harmonies, respectively. The outcome is as organic as you’d expect a family-based band to be.
Appropriately, given the subject matter and circumstances, the production is unprepossessing in the extreme. There is nothing artificial on the album. The benefit is not only a supremely relaxed listening experience, but sonics the likes of which we’ve never heard from a pandemic-era release. Most of those were recorded amateurishly, at home, and at a paltry 44.1k sampling rate.
In contrast, Tweedy and company could walk over to The Loft, the private, professional recording studio that he and Wilco built twenty years ago. In addition to keeping the signal path clean, Tweedy chose a native resolution of 24/96. If you listen to it that way, you’ll hear stunningly pure sound. Add that to one of Tweedy’s best batches of songs, and you have the perfect soundtrack for these reflective times. Highly Recommended.
Coming Soon: Fans of George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass are about to finally get a version that gives the masterful album its sonic due. For its 50th anniversary, the recording is being reworked from scratch under the guidance of George’s son Dhani. How good will it be? To find out, go to Qobuz and compare the teaser title track, “All Things Must Pass (2020 mix),” to any other version and you’ll be as giddy as I am about what’s coming.
The following is a press release issued by AudioQuest.
April, 2021 – What’s old and famous, and yet brand new?
Many tens of thousands of music lovers are already enjoying better audio enabled by the AudioQuest JitterBug USB Noise Filter—whether plugged into a car’s USB jack, or a laptop computer, or a USB “service-only” jack on an Ethernet Streamer, etc…
Now, JitterBug FMJ, with its Full Metal Jacket raises the stakes.
Whether used in series (in-line) or in parallel, JitterBug significantly reduces contamination from RF generated by a computer, car, or other device. JitterBug FMJ also thoroughly addresses environmental RF Noise taking advantage of this vulnerable interface.
The new metal case is the most obvious change, though even the seemingly innocuous hinged “rubber” piece covering JitterBug’s output is crucial to JitterBug’s improved performance. That little black “door” is RF-proof thanks to the material being substantially RF-absorbing Carbon.
Employ one JitterBug in series between any computer, smartphone, NAS, streamer, or car audio system and a USB input. For an additional sonic improvement, use a second JitterBug in another unoccupied USB port—in parallel to the first—except with JitterBug FMJ’s front door closed.
A JitterBug in series with DragonFlys Black or Red always helps those wonderful creatures fly higher and faster. However, it’s best to experiment when putting a JitterBug in front of a DragonFly Cobalt—which itself employs some of JitterBug’s filtering, and so the two filters in series can help or hurt performance depending on specific equipment and context.
Regardless of which DragonFly or any other considerations, a 2nd JitterBug in parallel is always a delightful improvement as it pulls more RF Noise off the USB power bus—which is why and how a JitterBug makes just as big an improvement even when plugged into service-only or update-only USB ports on many devices.
JitterBug uses USB-A connections on both ends. When used with a computer or other device (or car) with only USB-C connections, AudioQuest offers a super-compact high-performance C-male to A-female adaptor for $21.95, and also the DragonTail flexible C-to-A adaptor (included with DragonFly Cobalt) for $29.95.
Noise reduction and noise dissipation is us! One can’t hear our modern world’s pervasive RF Noise itself, but the compromises it causes robs us of detail and contrast, and outright buries so much subtlety. Fight back with JitterBug FMJ.
US Retail Price: $59.95. Estimated Availability: May 15
Elac’s Uni-Fi UB5 compact monitor, which I reviewed in Issue 266, remains one of the best friends an audiophile on a budget can have. In a price range mostly reserved for traditional two-ways—like Elac’s entry-level Debut Series—the UB5 was the rare three-way design that was also equipped with a concentric tweeter/midrange. At $499/pair, the original UB5 represented remarkable value and performance that made it the small monitor to beat in its class. But, as they say, there’s always room for improvement. Thus, the Elac team, led by the indefatigable Andrew Jones, decided to push the envelope just a little more. Hence, the Uni-Fi UB5.2.
As the price has been bumped up to $599 for a pair, you might ask–what’s a hundred-buck difference going to buy you at this or any level? Turns out, a lot. Elac didn’t just pretty up the UB5, adding a chamfer here and an accent there. Nope, the changes go significantly deeper. Physically, the UB5.2 has different dimensions. It’s a little taller, narrower, and deeper, which to my eye gives it a more contemporary silhouette. The relocated bass-reflex port now resides upfront beneath the woofer, rather than out back. It’s a move that Elac states reduces back wall interaction and creates more stable direct output. The concentric midrange/tweeter transducer has received attention, as well. Thanks to a wider surround, the inset tweeter extends treble response, and transitions more smoothly with the midrange. The 4″ aluminum-cone midrange has a modified profile, an improved neodymium magnet assembly, and a larger voice coil. Bass duties are handled by a 5.25″ aluminum-cone woofer.
The enclosures are engineered with thick MDF outer walls, plus internal bracing for added stiffness to reduce vibrations and coloration. The Uni-Fi’s crossover now boasts greater linearity and better driver integration. Crossover points are 200Hz and 2kHz (lowered from 2.7kHz). Sensitivity is a slightly challenging 85dB, while nominal impedance is 6 ohms, up from 4 ohms. While efficiency has improved overall, don’t scrimp on amplification. The UB5.2 likes quality power. Finished in “black ash” vinyl (pricier wood veneers and deep lacquers are reserved for Elac’s upscale models), the UB5 has a nicely executed utilitarian look.
In performance, the key strengths that lifted Uni-Fi to critical prominence remain securely in place. Namely, the UB5.2’s midrange weight, forward-leaning energy, and focused imaging continue to make for highly satisfying vocal reproduction. Its tonal character retains the immediacy, transient attack, rhythmic jump, and midbass oomph that preserve its rock ’n’ roll bona fides.
However, Elac has taken Uni-Fi to finishing school in a big way. It has matured in virtually every area. The few rough edges I noted with the original have been largely buffed out in the UB5.2. Compared with its forebear, it has a smoother, less pushy, less edgy sound. Tonally, and for the better, it’s a hint warmer in the mids. Treble frequencies from the revised concentric are slightly more rounded with a bit more air. For example, during the Manhattan Jazz Quintet’s rendition of “Autumn Leaves,” the speakers seemed to breathe more easily, and the venue appeared to expand in volume. Tellingly, the UB5.2 eliminates the hint of glare on solo piano that I noted with the UB5. (Helpfully, I had a pair of original UB5s on hand for comparison.) Image precision and focus, always strong points with concentric transducers, continue to shine, but the UB5.2 has added a more realistic sense of ambient space to balance its inherent pinpoint focus—a small but significant difference that improves dimensionality and reduces localization of the loudspeaker.
An upswing in transparency is also obvious. Elac has removed a soft veiling, revealing greater low-level detail, microdynamics, and soundstage realism. During Harry Connick’s “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square,” for example, it was as if the UB5.2 blew the dust off the recording—the sax solo was just a hint silkier and more immediate, without any sacrifice in reedy grit, bloom, and weight.
For reference, I’ve added a few additional examples of the Uni-Fi’s evolution– during “Who Will Comfort Me,” Melody Gardot’s bluesy vocal was more settled and relaxed, but still imbued with stand-your-ground presence. The accompanying trumpet in this cut had the requisite spark and snap. Stage width improved somewhat, but in this one area I would rate the UB5.2 as average (in its segment). Jennifer Warnes’ wistful cover of Eddie Vedder’s “Just Breathe” from Another Time, Another Place was reproduced with a slightly drier timbre than what I hear through my reference system, but still substantially improved over the UB5’s presentation. A nice touch within this song was the lovely timbre of the French horn and the soft cymbal accents, which the UB5.2 sensitively reproduced. On occasion, I perceived a small drop in intensity on vocals—a slight suppression of the presence range that lightened Mary Chapin-Carpenter’s resonant contralto during “Bells Are Ringing” from MCC’s Christmas album Come Darkness, Come Light. But this was only a slight wobble from the Elac in an otherwise delightful performance.
The UB5.2 produced lower frequencies well into the 50Hz range, where they began rolling off fairly swiftly. Bass response was impressive as pitches descended, with little evidence of bumps or dips. There was formidable weight and foundation from cello and bass violin sections, and impressively full-bodied upper-bass dynamics. The UB5.2’s low frequencies were a little on the free and bloomy side, rather than the overtightened one. To my ear, this was not so much a loss of control and grip, but a looser, more sophisticated musicality. The work on the newly reconfigured cabinet has obviously paid dividends, because at least part of the UB5.2’s bass clarity is owed to the absence of vent colorations and the low windage effects of its relocated port.
The UB5.2 does have bass limits, of course. Drums and heavy percussion don’t have the widest dynamic range nor the transient snap-and-crackle they might have. Melodic lines off a bass guitar were a little rounded and subdued. Unlike a truly full-range speaker, the UB5.2 can’t always follow and define every midbass cue or rhythm. Thus, the deepest low-end excursions were only partly suggested or approximated at times, enough to permit the listener to contentedly fill in the rest.
The art of loudspeaker design is producing a product with a Uni-Fied and refined voice that sounds like music, not a patchwork of sonic criteria. I think Elac’s success in this regard is, in part, the reason for the sonic leap I hear in this next generation of Uni-Fi. Elac’s UB5.2 has taken the well-deserved success of its immediate predecessor, ratcheted up the sonic positives, and, where they merited attention, minimized the shortcomings. In my book, there’s nothing better than witnessing a maturation process that improves the breed—and all for an extra hundred bucks. A terrific speaker that I can recommend without reservation.
Specs & Pricing
Type: Three-way bass-reflex
Drivers: Concentric 1″ soft-dome tweeter/4″ aluminum midrange; 5.25″ aluminum woofer
Crossover: 200Hz, 2kHz
Frequency response: 46Hz–35kHz
Nominal impedance: 6 ohms
Dimensions: 7.28″ x 13.62″ x 10.83″
Weight: 18.26 lbs.
11145 Knott Avenue, Suite E & F
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Front End, Sota Cosmos Series IV turntable; SME V tonearm; Cartridges, Clearaudio Charisma, Sumiko Palo Santos; Phono Stage, Parasound JC 3+, Pass Labs XP-17; Media Player/DAC, dCS Bartok DAC; dCS Puccini (SACD); Lumin S1 Music Player; Synology NAS; MacBook Pro/Pure Music; Integrated Amplifiers, Aesthetix Mimas, MBL Corona C51; Preamplifier, Pass Labs XP-12; Loudspeakers, ATC SCM50T, SCM20SL; Cables & Power Cords, Wireworld Silver Eclipse 8 interconnect & speaker, Audience Au24SX cables and power cords, Synergistic Atmosphere Level Four; Shunyata Venom NR power cords. Audience USB, AudioQuest Carbon firewire; Wireworld Starlight Cat 8 Ethernet; Power Conditioners, Audience aR6-T4, Shunyata Hydra conditioners; Accessories, VooDoo Cable Iso-Pod
The story of the fruition of David Byrne’s American Utopia begins, ironically, with what you’d expect to be the endpoint: the album’s release in 2018. Debuting at number 3 on the Billboard 200, American Utopia owed its success to Byrne’s return, after many years of soundtrack work and musically-experimental collaborations, to the crisp song structures and askew sensibilities that characterized his years with Talking Heads. Further, Utopia boasted some truly standout tracks. Exhibit A: “Every Day is a Miracle,” which, with its irresistible singalong chorus, ranked alongside Byrne’s best.
Lyrically, American Utopia continued Byrne’s fascination for seemingly-insignificant slices of American life. However, this time out, he traded cynicism for a notably sunnier outlook. “We’re only tourists in this life,” he sang in “Everyone’s Coming to My House.” “Only tourists but the view is nice.”
All that said, several factors kept American Utopia from reaching its full potential. The credits listed no fewer than 27 musical contributors, an assemblage that at times proved unwieldy and plodding. Then there was Byrne’s singing, which was uncharacteristically but consistently out of tune. An equal-opportunity intonation violator, Byrne was sharp as often as he was flat. That didn’t exactly ruin the music, but it sure was annoying. And while half the album featured undeniably worthy songs, the other half was subpar.
As it turned out, though, Byrne was just getting started. In late 2018, he took the Utopia material on a month-long international road trip. For that enterprise, Byrne slimmed the band down to 12 musicians. That change, in turn, called for more streamlined arrangements. Byrne obliged, and in doing so found the emotional heart of each song. Meanwhile, the set list culled out the weaker Utopia material and supplemented it with astutely-curated selections from Byrne’s rich Talking Heads and solo-career catalogs. As you might imagine, the tour was a smash.
Next came a year’s hiatus, during which Byrne further tweaked the set list, arrangements, and staging. Then, in his boldest move yet, he took the revamped show to Broadway. Unfortunately, Covid-19 forced an end to the sold-out run. But there was a consolation prize. Later in 2020, we learned that Spike Lee had directed—and HBO had produced—a film version of the Broadway show. In conjunction with the movie’s release, along came American Utopia on Broadway (Original Cast Recording). And that’s how we can finally hear this music in full flower.
The album is many things: a retrospective of Byrne’s prolific career; a chronicle of a unique performance; a live recording that gets the sound just right; and a showcase for the stupendous 12-piece band that Byrne assembled with musicians from all over the world. All of them, particularly the six drummers Byrne deploys to faithfully create his trademark polyrhythms, are simply non pareil. They can sing, too, as you’ll well appreciate on the a cappella renditions of “One Fine Day” and the opening to “Road to Nowhere,” both of which are spellbinding.
One obvious question about the Broadway version of American Utopia is whether it’s redundant of Talking Heads’ celebrated Stop Making Sense soundtrack. Both are live recordings, both have accompanying films made by noteworthy directors (Jonathan Demme, in the case of Stop Making Sense), and there is even some overlapping material. However, the two albums are very different. The premise of Stop Making Sense was that a band could be mutated—shrunken or expanded—in order to perfectly fit any song. In contrast, the American Utopia show illustrates how a broad range of material can be shaped to take advantage of one stellar ensemble. Also, David Byrne has written a lot of great material since Stop Making Sense was made, and Utopia covers the highlights.
I’ve already alluded to the album’s excellent sound. While the studio version’s sonics are quite respectable, they can’t touch the Broadway recording. It’s one of the fullest and most present-sounding live recordings I’ve heard in some time. I especially recommend the LP, with its quiet vinyl and natural tonality. But if you’re going digital, be sure to bypass the CD and opt for the excellent 24/96 downloads and streams. They offer impeccable openness and unforced detail. In any format, the original cast recording of American Utopia is a treat you don’t want to miss. Highly recommended.