The Listening Craft

“A hi-fi system is never finished — only refined through experience.”

Category: Hi-Fi

  • The Case for Analog – Part 2: The Sound

    Introduction

    The sound of analog is a controversial topic—and the controversy is mainly technical. Digital audio is superior to analog in measurable aspects. For many, this is reason enough to dismiss analog entirely. However, if you have the opportunity to listen to both analog and digital on a reasonably well-set-up hi-fi system, the reality of their sonic differences might surprise you.

    Throughout audio history, there have been many analog formats. Here, I’ll focus on two: vinyl records and reel-to-reel tapes. These are the most revered analog formats in high-end audio today—and for good reason.

    The Recording: Microphone

    The first link in the audio chain is the recording itself—and at the heart of any recording is the microphone and the technique used to place it.

    Let’s begin with a seemingly simple scenario: recording a solo piano. Imagine placing a concert grand in a proper hall. Now, where should we place the microphone—or microphones?

    A piano is essentially a felt-covered hammer striking strings tuned to specific pitches. These strings are under immense tension and are mounted on a cast iron plate, which is itself integrated into a wooden frame. That frame vibrates in sympathy with the strings, contributing overtones, harmonics, and the natural resonance of the wood. The sound of a piano, then, is a harmonic fusion of string and wood.

    Even pianos of the same model from the same manufacturer can sound different. This is why many renowned pianists bring their personal instruments to concerts or recording sessions—to preserve their unique tonal identity. Much of that individuality is rooted in the organic nature of wood, which imparts subtle sonic characteristics to every instrument.

    If you’ve ever attended a live piano performance, you’ll notice the piano is typically placed sideways, with its lid half-open. The lid acts like an acoustic reflector: sound from the strings strikes the lid and is projected outward in the direction the lid faces. As a listener, you hear the full body of the instrument—strings and wood—blended into a cohesive whole, enhanced by the reverberation of the concert hall. Interestingly, no two halls sound alike; each one colors the music in its own way.

    Microphones, however, are fundamentally different from human ears. While our ears channel sound into the auditory system, we also perceive vibrations through our body, adding to the sense of immersion. Our brains process this multi-sensory input in astonishing ways, honed by evolution. In contrast, a microphone is a measuring device. It detects pressure variations across certain frequencies and converts them into an analog electrical signal. Depending on the type, each microphone also has a particular pickup pattern, affecting how it captures sound.

    Returning to our recording problem: where do we place the microphones?

    At first glance, positioning a microphone in the best seat of the hall might seem ideal. After all, wouldn’t that capture the “best” listening experience? But what works for a human listener doesn’t necessarily work for a microphone. Reflections and hall acoustics that enhance the experience for our ears can blur the details for a mic, masking harmonics and nuance.

    Alternatively, placing the microphones very close to the piano captures a more direct sound, rich in detail—but at the cost of losing the natural ambiance, depth, and scale of the hall. A common solution is to use multiple microphones—some close, some distant—and blend their outputs to create a more believable and emotionally resonant recording. However, this approach can introduce phase (timing) issues between microphones, potentially smearing the sound or altering the tonal balance.

    In the end, a recording is always a compromise.

    And that’s just one piano.

    Capturing a single acoustic instrument is already an art filled with complex decisions. Now imagine recording an entire symphony orchestra…

    Arguably, the mid-1950s to early 1960s represent the golden era of classical music recording. During this period, the legendary British label Decca produced some of the finest recordings ever made—and a major part of that success was due to their innovative microphone technique known as the Decca Tree.

    In simple terms, the Decca Tree involves suspending a trio of microphones in a tree-like configuration from the ceiling, positioned just above the conductor’s head. This arrangement captures a perspective remarkably close to what the conductor hears—balancing direct sound from the orchestra with the natural reverberation of the hall. Even today, it is widely regarded as one of the most effective techniques for recording a full symphony orchestra.

    The Recording:  Medium

    Once the sound is captured by the microphones, it needs to be stored for further processing. The most common analog recording medium is the reel-to-reel tape. This is primarily a professional format—and a deep rabbit hole in itself. In simple terms, the tape used to store recordings is a multi-channel medium that can hold anywhere from 1 to 24 tracks, depending on the setup. The number of tracks required is typically dictated by the number of microphones or sound sources involved.

    In a non-live recording environment, multiple takes are common—musicians might make mistakes, or certain passages may need refinement. Editing becomes a critical part of the production process. In this context, editing means selecting the best parts of various takes and combining them to create a near-perfect performance. In the analog, reel-to-reel domain, this process is entirely physical: the tape must be manually cut at precise locations and spliced together with adhesive tape. There is no “undo” button—once a tape is cut, it’s cut. This method demands both skill and precision.

    Moreover, tape is an expensive medium. More takes require more tape; more edits mean more time spent with an engineer. As a result, analog recording and editing can be significantly more costly than digital. Interestingly, some believe that the expensive and unforgiving nature of analog recording pushes musicians to perform at a higher level and make fewer mistakes.

    They argue that the convenience and flexibility of digital recording can lead to complacency, encouraging excessive takes and edits—which, in turn, result in performances that feel unnatural and inorganic. From this perspective, it’s not just the medium, but the mindset it fosters, that makes analog recordings sound better.

    In my opinion, this may indeed play a part in why analog recordings are often perceived as superior—but I don’t believe it tells the whole story.

    The Recording: Mixing

    Once the editing is complete, the next step is mixing—combining the individual tracks into a cohesive whole using a device called a mixing desk. The mixing desk is an iconic element of recording studios, easily recognizable in photos. It’s the large console with countless faders, knobs, and buttons, typically found at the center of a studio’s control room.

    In basic terms, mixing involves adjusting the volume levels of each track relative to one another, equalizing them so they fit together harmoniously across the audio spectrum, and panning them across the stereo field to create spatial depth and placement.

    Panning is a particularly interesting and crucial part of the process. It allows the engineer to position instruments and voices along a two-dimensional canvas that stretches from left to right. This spatial placement is directly tied to the realism of the recording and the stereo imaging experienced during playback.

    Let’s return to our piano example: how should you pan a solo piano in a stereo recording?

    If you place the entire piano in the center, the sound becomes effectively mono—a single point source—during playback. Alternatively, you could pan the right-hand notes to the right channel and the left-hand notes to the left channel. This is a common approach in piano recordings, as it takes advantage of the stereo field and gives the piano spatial width. The instrument now spans across the speakers rather than collapsing to a single point.

    However, this introduces another issue: the playback setup—specifically, the distance between the speakers and the listener—can influence the perceived size of the instrument. The piano may sound larger or smaller than life-size. Moreover, this type of panning creates the sensation that you’re listening from above the piano, as if observing the keyboard from the performer’s perspective.

    But in a live setting, the piano is usually sideways relative to the audience. You don’t hear the left-hand notes exclusively in your left ear and the right-hand notes in your right ear. The live listening experience is more blended and cohesive. As a result, this panning method, while technically effective, can sometimes sound unnatural or even disorienting.

    As I mentioned earlier: a recording is full of compromises.

    The Recording: Mastering

    The next step in the process is mastering—the final stage where a recording is polished and prepared for release. Mastering is an art form and can easily make or break a recording.

    During mastering, the final equalization is applied to achieve a well-balanced overall tonal character. The recording is also processed through multiple pieces of equipment to enhance cohesion and sonic consistency across tracks.

    Arguably the most important and famous tool in this stage is the compressor. In simple terms, a compressor reduces the dynamic range of the recording by squashing down the peaks. This helps “glue” the mix together, creating a more cohesive and uniform sound. However, overusing compression can suck the life out of the music—dulling its energy and emotional impact.

    Unfortunately, compression has been overused in many recordings, especially during the era of the loudness wars. The less dynamic range a recording has, the louder it can sound to the human ear—at least initially. This became a major trend in pop and rock music, where perceived loudness was often prioritized over musicality.

    Even classical recordings weren’t immune. In the 1970s, in an effort to reduce production costs for vinyl pressings, some classical releases were mastered with compressed dynamics—sacrificing the music’s natural ebb and flow in the process.

    Once mastering is complete, the final product is recorded onto a two-track reel-to-reel tape—typically more than once, for redundancy. This tape is referred to as the master tape. It represents the closest possible medium to the original artistic and engineering intent—the version that captures exactly what the artists and engineers envisioned.

    The Recording: The Wrap-Up

    For music listeners, the recording process is something we can’t control or change. However, understanding the details behind the process can deepen our appreciation of the listening experience.

    It’s also important to raise awareness about what constitutes a good or bad recording. As consumers, we should collectively demand higher standards from the industry—because better recordings lead to better music experiences for everyone.

    The Production: Vinyl

    Once the master tapes are ready, it’s time to mass-produce the recording. If the chosen medium is vinyl, there are several additional steps involved before production can begin.

    One of the master tapes is sent to a cutting engineer, who uses a lathe to cut a lacquer. This cutting process is an art form in itself. The engineer plays the master tape through a specialized chain of electronics, and at the end of the chain is a cutting head, which physically etches the electrical signal into the lacquer disc.

    The lacquer is a relatively soft material, and once the cut is complete, it must be coated with metal to create a stable mold. Due to its softness, lacquer can degrade or distort over time—so this step is a race against the clock to preserve the highest possible sound quality.

    After the lacquer is coated, the remaining steps are no longer time-sensitive. While there are intermediate steps involving the creation of the father, mother, and other parts, we’ll skip ahead to the most critical one: the stamper.

    The stamper is the actual metal mold used to press grooves into the hot vinyl compound. This is how vinyl records are mass-produced. Typically, multiple stampers are created and used across several pressing machines for large-scale production.

    Vinyl compounds themselves have vastly improved over the past few decades. Modern formulations are significantly more resistant to surface noise, and they are also more durable and long-lasting.

    One interesting phenomenon: vinyl is a compliant material, meaning the pressure from the stylus during playback can actually flex the groove walls. Believe it or not, this effect is not negligible. Fortunately, modern vinyl compounds are far more resistant to this kind of deformation. There are even specialized compounds that don’t flex at all—but they are significantly more expensive and difficult to produce. As a result, they are used exclusively in ultra-high-end releases, such as the UHQR series from Analogue Productions.

    It’s important to note that stampers are consumable. With each pressing, the stamper gradually degrades. A widely accepted rule of thumb is to limit each stamper to around 500 pressings. Beyond this point, audible sound degradation becomes likely. Many audiophile and reputable labels follow this best practice, but not all do. Labels producing music for the mass market often ignore these limitations to cut costs—sometimes pressing thousands of records from a single stamper. This is why not all vinyl records are created equal.

    Many vinyl enthusiasts and collectors even inspect the inscriptions etched into the runout groove to determine which pressing plant and which stamper was used—especially with vintage records. These production details can significantly affect the value of a record on the collector’s market.

    Generally, record labels did not ship original master tapes to other countries, even though many albums were pressed internationally during the golden era of vinyl. As a result, pressings from the country of origin are often more highly valued and are generally considered to offer the best sound quality.

    The Production: Reel-to-Reel Tapes

    Reel-to-reel tape has traditionally been a professional format. However, during certain periods, consumer versions of reel-to-reel tapes were also released. These consumer tapes were compromised to reduce costs—they typically played at slower speeds than their professional counterparts. This allowed more recording time per reel, but also meant cramming more information into less tape, resulting in reduced dynamic range and bandwidth. Even so, they could still sound surprisingly good.

    The tapes I want to focus on here are master tape copies—copies made directly from the original studio master tapes. The original master tape is considered generation one. A direct copy of that tape is second generation, and a copy of the copy becomes third generation, and so on.

    With each generation, some sound quality is lost, but well-made second- and third-generation copies can sound very close to the original.

    Over the past decade or so, mostly boutique audiophile labels have begun issuing master tape copies—typically second- or third-generation dubs from the original masters.

    Producing these tapes is extremely labor-intensive. Unlike vinyl records or CDs, there is no mass-production method for reel-to-reel copies. The original master tape must be played and dubbed in real-time to create each copy. Some high-end duplication rigs can record multiple copies simultaneously, but even then, it’s often limited to a dozen tapes at most per session.

    Most original master tapes used for these dubs are in 1/4-inch, 2-track, 15 IPS (inches per second) format. At 15 IPS, a 60-minute recording requires approximately 1,372 meters (or 1.4 kilometers) of tape.

    Blank reel-to-reel tape is produced by only a handful of manufacturers today, and it’s expensive. When you factor in the inefficient production process, the cost of raw tape, and copyright licensing fees, it’s easy to see why reel-to-reel master tape copies are a rare and costly niche within the world of high-end audio.

    The Production: Wrap-Up

    Although vinyl records can be mass-produced, the process remains labor-intensive, manual, and meticulous. Producing high-quality vinyl requires precision at every stage—from cutting the lacquer to pressing the final record—and this attention to detail makes the process quite costly. These production costs are directly reflected in the price consumers pay.

    Reel-to-reel tape is even more demanding. It cannot be mass-produced, and the raw materials—particularly high-quality blank tape—are both expensive and scarce. This makes reel-to-reel one of the most resource-intensive and costly formats in analog audio.

    When compared to reel-to-reel, vinyl is a compromise. It was designed as a consumer format, optimized for mass production rather than absolute fidelity. Due to the spiral nature of vinyl grooves, the further the stylus moves toward the center, the fewer inches of groove are available per second of music—resulting in a noticeable drop in sound quality in the inner grooves.

    Additionally, both formats require equalization during production and playback. Reel-to-reel tapes typically use IEC or NAB EQ curves, while vinyl relies on the RIAA standard. In both cases, low frequencies are attenuated during recording to conserve physical space, while high frequencies are boosted to preserve detail. During playback, this curve is reversed by the phono stage or tape preamp.

    In short, analog formats are challenging to produce—and those challenges are reflected in both the cost and the craftsmanship behind every reel and record.

    The Playback: Vinyl

    Vinyl playback relies on four major components, all of which are crucially important: the cartridge, the tonearm, the turntable, and the phono stage.

    The Cartridge: The cartridge is a precision instrument composed of several parts. At its core, it has a cantilever with a diamond tip. On the opposite end of the cantilever is either a coil of wire (in moving coil, or MC cartridges) or a magnet (in moving magnet, or MM cartridges). As the diamond tip tracks the grooves of the vinyl record, it vibrates, causing the coil or magnet to move. This movement generates a tiny electrical voltage. In essence, the cartridge is a measuring device—it reads the mechanical motion encoded in the groove and converts it into an electrical signal, much like a miniature generator.

    The Tonearm: The tonearm holds the cartridge and allows it to track across the record’s surface. According to Newton’s third law, every action has an equal and opposite reaction. As the stylus moves within the groove, reactive forces push back against the cartridge. The tonearm’s job is to counteract those forces and drain them into the turntable’s plinth, ensuring stability.

    The most common tonearm design is the pivoted arm, which rotates around a single axis. While this design is practical and widespread, it has inherent geometrical compromises. Mathematically, a pivoted tonearm can only maintain perfect tangency between the stylus and groove at two points across the record surface.

    The Turntable: The turntable’s role is to support and rotate the vinyl record at a consistent speed. Most turntables also serve as the mounting platform for the tonearm.

    A motor drives a platter upon which the record sits. The three most common drive types are idler drive, belt drive, and direct drive. Regardless of the method, the goal remains the same: speed stability and minimal vibration. Because the cartridge is a vibration-sensitive transducer, any vibration not coming from the groove is considered parasitic and must be minimized.

    Moreover, the turntable must also isolate itself from external vibrations, especially those produced by loudspeakers. During playback, speakers radiate a considerable amount of acoustic energy, which can physically vibrate the turntable and affect tracking.

    The Phono Stage: The electrical signal generated by the cartridge is extremely low. Modern MC cartridges typically produce only 0.1 to 0.5 millivolts, while standard line-level inputs expect signals in the range of 2 volts (for single-ended connections). Therefore, the phono stage must amplify the cartridge’s output by a factor of up to 10,000 times.

    This enormous gain makes phono stages extremely sensitive to noise, requiring careful design and shielding. In addition to amplification, the phono stage must also apply inverse RIAA equalization to restore the signal’s original frequency balance. This EQ stage must be precisely implemented, as errors in this process can significantly affect the tonal accuracy of the playback.

    Good vinyl playback requires careful selection of all the key components. That doesn’t necessarily mean expensive—there are many excellent options that don’t cost an arm and a leg.

    More importantly, achieving great analog sound depends heavily on proper setup—especially when it comes to cartridge alignment. I cannot stress this enough: with careful setup, even an entry-level cartridge can sound phenomenal. On the other hand, without proper alignment, even a high-end, expensive cartridge can sound subpar.

    I’ll cover cartridge setup in detail in a future post.

    The Playback: Reel-to-Reel Tapes

    Reel-to-reel is a complex and nuanced topic, but as mentioned earlier, I’ll focus specifically on playing back master tape copies.

    There are several important features to look for in a tape deck designed for this purpose:

    1. Tape Width Tape width refers to the physical width of the tape the machine can play. Master tape copies almost always use 1/4″ tape, with rare exceptions using 1/2″. Most tape decks are limited to a single width, so to play master tape copies, you’ll need a machine that supports 1/4″ tape.

    2. Playback Speeds Most master tape copies are recorded at 15 IPS (inches per second). There are also copies at 7.5 IPS and, more rarely, 30 IPS. Almost any deck that supports 15 IPS will also support 7.5 IPS, so compatibility at that level isn’t a concern. However, 30 IPS playback is rare and usually found only on professional studio machines. For those just getting into tape collecting, I generally recommend skipping 30 IPS entirely.

    3. Equalization (EQ) Curves As mentioned earlier, reel-to-reel tapes typically use either the NAB or IEC (also known as CCIR) equalization curve—NAB being more common in the U.S., and IEC in Europe. A deck that supports both is a wise investment, ensuring compatibility with the widest range of tapes.

    4. Magnetic Flux Level Support This is a commonly overlooked feature. The two most prevalent magnetic flux levels for master tapes are approximately 300 nWb/m and 500 nWb/m. While 300 nWb/m tapes can sound excellent, 500 nWb/m offers greater dynamic range and often sounds even better. A deck that supports both levels will give you broader compatibility and better performance.

    Tape decks generally fall into three categories: new production machines, vintage machines, and modernized vintage machines.

    New Production Machines There are very few truly new reel-to-reel machines being manufactured today. Designing one from scratch is a bold business move, given how niche the market is. Fortunately, a few companies have taken up the challenge, and some excellent new machines are available. I personally own one of them: the Analog Audio Design TP-1000. It’s a fantastic machine, and I’ll dedicate a future post to it in more detail.

    Vintage Machines There are many vintage reel-to-reel decks out there, but choosing the right one isn’t easy. Vintage machines can be broadly categorized into consumer, prosumer, and professional models. I recommend avoiding consumer-grade decks—they rarely meet the requirements outlined above.

    That leaves prosumer and professional machines. Some of the greatest tape decks ever made fall into these categories, especially professional studio recorders. However, finding the best models in good condition can be extremely difficult and very expensive. They also require servicing, and skilled technicians are increasingly rare. Repairs can be costly, and wait times may stretch into years. That said, if you have the budget and patience, these machines can deliver unmatched performance.

    Modernized Vintage Machines Several companies now refurbish and upgrade vintage machines from the ground up. While not technically “new production,” these decks are often sold as if new, with modern parts and improved reliability. This is a viable and exciting category that’s well worth investigating.

    Selecting the right tape deck can be an overwhelming experience—and one that’s prone to costly mistakes. However, when you find the right machine and hear it playing back master tapes, the experience is nothing short of extraordinary. For those who appreciate analog at its finest, it’s an investment that is truly worth it.

    Finally – The Sound

    So, analog is flawed, tedious, and inconvenient. So why bother?

    The answer is simple: the sound.

    Analog sound is often described as more organic, musical, emotionally engaging, cohesive, and lifelike. Despite its measurable imperfections, analog resonates in a way that digital often does not.

    On paper, digital is superior. But in practice, I’ve yet to encounter a digital system—whether it costs a few thousand dollars or several hundred thousand—that truly sounds right and emotionally satisfying.

    The reason, I believe, is rooted in something controversial. But for me, one explanation stands out as the most plausible.

    Digital audio is entirely man-made and mathematical. It introduces its own types of flaws—artifacts that are purely mathematical in nature. One well-known example is pre-ringing, an anomaly introduced by certain digital filters. As the name suggests, pre-ringing is a ringing that occurs before the actual sound—like hearing an echo before the sound that created it.

    This phenomenon doesn’t exist in the natural world. Yet in digital audio, it can—and does—happen. And it’s not alone. Digital reproduction can introduce various forms of distortion. Some argue these are far below the threshold of human hearing, and therefore irrelevant. But just because we don’t consciously hear them doesn’t mean they don’t affect us.

    In fact, scientific studies have shown that ultrasonic frequencies—those beyond the range of human hearing—can still trigger brain activity. That doesn’t mean we “hear” them in the traditional sense, but it suggests our brains register their presence and respond to them.

    Another well-known digital issue is jitter. In simple terms, jitter is a timing error. All digital systems rely on clock pulses, which occur many thousands or even millions of times per second. Jitter is the imperfection in the timing of those pulses, which introduces digital distortion.

    In the early days of digital audio, jitter wasn’t even recognized as a problem—which left many listeners wondering why digital sounded the way it did: unnatural and “digital.”

    If you’re familiar with the sound of acoustic instruments, such as the violin, this becomes especially apparent. While a violin is technically a string instrument, its sound comes from much more than just the strings. The bridge transfers the vibrations of the strings to the top plate, which is made of wood. A bass bar beneath the top plate connects it to the bottom plate, allowing the entire wooden body to resonate. This resonating wood is what gives the violin its distinct tone, rich in overtones and harmonics.

    In my experience, I’ve never heard a digital recording where a violin sounds truly balanced. It often comes across as stringy, etched, or even hard to listen to. A live violin never sounds like that. It’s warm, fluid, and full of natural complexity.

    On the other hand, a well-made analog recording can reproduce the violin’s character in a way that comes remarkably close to the real thing.

    Final Verdict

    Analog audio isn’t perfect—but perfection isn’t the point. What it offers is something more elusive: a sense of realism that touches the soul, not just the ears. From the way instruments are captured and preserved, to the craftsmanship involved in both production and playback, analog forms a chain of intention—human, physical, and deeply expressive.

    Vinyl and reel-to-reel tapes each have their strengths and limitations. They demand care, attention, and sometimes even forgiveness. But in return, they offer a listening experience that many find more immersive, emotional, and—ironically—more real than digital audio, which, despite its precision, is still prone to flaws of its own: jitter, filtering artifacts, and a reliance on abstract mathematical reconstruction.

    This is not a case against digital. It’s a case for analog. For those willing to embrace its quirks and challenges, it can be a deeply rewarding journey—one that brings us closer not only to the music, but to the humanity behind it.

  • How Music Streaming Services Are Killing Music

    Introduction

    The late ’90s internet boom—like many other technological revolutions—changed the music industry forever. Music began shifting away from physical media toward MP3 files. The problem was, most of these MP3s were pirated. People started ripping CDs and sharing the digital files across various download platforms.

    The music industry took a massive revenue hit from this wave of illegal file sharing and attempted to fight back through lawsuits. However, these legal battles were costly, and major corporations eventually realized that the internet wasn’t something they could control or suppress.

    Apple, on the other hand, embraced the change. They recognized that music consumption had fundamentally shifted—and that there was no turning back. Capitalizing on this transformation, Apple launched the iPod, a portable music player that could store and play digital files. Alongside it, they introduced iTunes—a platform not only for organizing your music library but also for purchasing music legally and transferring it to your device.

    In the years that followed, internet bandwidth—especially on mobile networks—grew exponentially. This paved the way for music streaming services. Led by Spotify, these platforms gave us the ability to play almost any song instantly, anytime and anywhere. No more downloading. No more file transfers. Just search and press play.

    However, this illusion of convenience masked a more destructive force: the subscription model.

    In my opinion, the subscription model is one of the most insidious inventions ever created by large corporations. It’s not a new concept, and in some areas, it used to make sense—take monthly magazines, for example. You’d subscribe, pay a monthly fee, receive a new issue each month, and own that issue.

    But what we’re dealing with now is fundamentally different. We’re subscribing to services that offer no ownership whatsoever. The software industry has also adopted this model. The promise was that, in exchange for a predictable revenue stream, companies would deliver regular updates and new features. That promise has largely proven false.

    There are a couple of key reasons. First, software can already be “complete” for what you need. If you’re satisfied with the current features, why should you keep paying for updates you don’t want or use? We’ve lost the freedom to purchase a perpetual license and use the software as long as it suits us—upgrading only when a new version offers something of real value.

    Second, companies often stop innovating once they dominate their market. Instead of reinvesting that steady stream of subscription revenue into product development, they focus on maximizing profit margins and appeasing investors. Just look at the growing discontent between Adobe and its user community.

    The Listener

    Music streaming services are no different. You don’t own any of the albums or songs in your library. You’re merely renting access to them. If you stop paying, your entire library disappears. In other words, to keep listening to your own collection, you have to keep paying—forever.

    If you’re an audiophile, the gear is a means to an end—a tool to reproduce music, not the end itself. Yes, we care deeply about the equipment. We invest significant time and money into it. But ultimately, the real purpose is—or should be—to enhance the joy we get from listening to music.

    For me, music itself is what truly matters. And owning my music matters just as much. The music I listen to is a reflection of who I am—an expression of myself. I want to collect it, preserve it, enjoy it, and most importantly, share the music that defines me with my child, my loved ones, and my friends.

    The records my grandfather owned are still with us. My father listened to them. I listen to them. And when my son grows up, he’ll listen to them too.

    This sharing of musical taste across generations is priceless—and it’s only possible through physical media you actually own.

    The Artist

    Owning your music may or may not resonate with you—but there’s another, arguably even more important, reason to consider it: the artists.

    Even the most popular musicians on streaming platforms barely make a profit. The rest can’t even recoup the cost of recording an album. I know this firsthand—my brother is the lead singer of a rock band. Despite having millions of streams, the income they’ve earned is, frankly, laughable. And as you might expect, it doesn’t even begin to cover the cost of recording, mixing, and mastering.

    The current business model discourages many artists from pursuing a career in music—unless they’re producing disposable, mass-appeal content. For music lovers like me, that’s devastating. It means that high-quality new music, especially in niche genres like jazz and classical, is slowly disappearing.

    The Album

    The word album has quite a history. In the early days of music reproduction—long before electronics were involved—the primary medium was the 78 RPM phonograph record. These discs could hold only 3 to 5 minutes of music per side. To release a full work, multiple records were packaged together in a bound set resembling a photo album. That’s how the term “album” originated, and over time, it came to define a curated collection of songs.

    For many decades, artists poured their hearts into crafting albums. Song selection, sequencing, and flow were all intentional. A well-made album was like a great novel—you pressed play and were drawn into a complete, immersive journey.

    But that concept is rapidly disappearing. Today, most musicians focus on releasing singles, promoting one track at a time. Creating a full album is expensive and risky under the current streaming-driven business model. For many artists, it’s simply not sustainable anymore.

    Final Verdict

    We have the power to change this. If you truly care about an artist, I encourage you to buy a physical copy of their album—whether on CD or vinyl. Artists earn significantly more from physical sales, and you own those albums—forever.

    Streaming isn’t going away anytime soon, and it is a valuable tool for discovering new music or listening on the go. But when you come across an album that truly resonates with you—one you want to revisit and treasure—buy it. Support the artists you love, and help keep the music alive for future listeners.

  • The Case for Analog – Part 1: The Journey

    I got into photography in the mid-90s with a Russian-made medium format camera. I immediately fell in love with the craft. At some point, I also picked up a 35mm camera and ended up taking thousands of photographs in both formats. Both, of course, were analog film.

    Back then, every neighborhood had at least a couple of photography stores that sold film and had the equipment to develop and print photographs. A photograph wasn’t considered complete until you held it in your hands. Printing wasn’t optional—it was part of the process.

    In the early 2000s, photography began to change dramatically. Digital SLRs became more accessible. Film started to disappear, and one by one, the labs followed. Around this time, I bought my first digital SLR. I took it on several trips and used it for a few years.

    The workflow had changed completely. You could instantly view the image on the screen. If you made a mistake or didn’t like the composition, you could simply retake the shot. There was no darkroom, no chemicals. You could transfer the images to a computer and process them. Very convenient, isn’t it?

    But after a few years, I sold the camera and quit photography altogether—for nearly a decade. The main reason? It just wasn’t fun anymore. The “convenience” of digital had taken all the joy out of it. Photography was no longer a craft. And the second—and perhaps more important—reason: I never liked the look of digital photographs. No software, no plugin, no amount of post-processing could make them feel organic. You could always tell it was digital.

    After ten years of resentment, I returned to analog. I bought several film cameras—and I still use them today, happily. Analog photography is back. It’s not quite like my childhood; change is inevitable. But film and chemicals are no longer scarce.

    Does it ring a bell, hi-fi people?

    I wasn’t born during the era when vinyl was mainstream. I grew up with cassette tapes, although CDs were already around by then. Still, I consider myself born in the analog era—at least when it comes to playback. This was also the time when the so-called “receiver wars” had ended, but the loudness war was still very much alive.

    Even though I mostly collected cassette tapes, I was fascinated by vinyl. I got my first turntable in the late ’90s and started buying records. The original appeal wasn’t the sound or any audiophile reason—it was the process itself. Even today, watching a stylus wiggle through a groove and produce music still blows my mind.

    Soon after, I put together my first hi-fi system, and my audiophile journey officially began. Fast forward to today—two decades and a half later—and I still listen primarily to vinyl.

    What happened in between closely mirrors my photography journey. I sold my turntable, and vinyl started to fade from my life. I shifted my focus entirely to digital audio playback. For years, I tried everything imaginable to make digital sound “right.”

    My digital journey began when lossless file formats became available, and hard disk playback was considered the standard for high-quality audio. This was before music streaming services became popular.

    I bought a reputable amplifier with an internal DAC. I stored my music files on a hard drive and played them through a computer connected to the DAC. The cleanliness of the sound was impressive. And of course, it was very convenient—you could double-click a file to play, skip tracks, and jump between albums instantly. Convenient, isn’t it?

    But I was never satisfied with the sound.

    I blamed everything else—speakers, speaker placement, the amplifier, system synergy, cables—you name it. Everything except the format itself. At least for a while.

    The more I listened, the less I enjoyed the music. I started spending less and less time in front of the system. I began experimenting with everything in an attempt to “improve” the sound.

    And the more I experimented, the more I realized how many factors affect digital playback—some of which didn’t even make sense and contradicted what I’d learned as a computer engineer.

    The first shock came when I noticed that different music player software sounded different. My DAC came with test tracks to confirm bit-perfect playback. I ran the test across different players, and they all passed. Yet they all sounded different. And not just subtly—these were significant differences. This kept me up at night. My education and my listening experience were in direct conflict.

    The second—and perhaps even more shocking—discovery was that the digital cable between the DAC and the computer affected the sound. Different cables produced different results. I was never a cable denier—at least not when it came to interconnects or speaker cables—but a digital cable, transmitting a bitstream?

    The deeper I went into digital, the more I realized just how deep the rabbit hole really was. Even before dedicated music streamers became a thing, I built my own using single-board computers. Then came linear power supplies for everything, and so on. Every change affected the sound. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.

    Then the era of music streaming services began. I jumped on it immediately. The convenience factor skyrocketed. You could have access to (almost) all the music in the world for the price of a CD per month. But after a while, we realized something: we didn’t own our music anymore. We just had the right to play it—as long as we kept paying. (You can checkout this post.)

    The third shock came after streaming became my main music source. My best friend insisted that network switches had an impact on sound. I dismissed the idea without even trying it. First it was music players, then digital cables—and now switches? It was too much to accept.

    During this period, my frustration with digital grew steadily. One day, I’d had enough. I didn’t care how cheap or convenient digital was—I bought a proper turntable and a decent phono stage and went back to analog. What a relief that was. I started listening to music again—really listening. I found myself spending hours in front of my system once more.

    But my digital journey didn’t end there. Over the years, I scaled up my digital sources alongside the rest of my system (you can check out this post and this post for more on that). I bought a streaming DAC from a well-known brand. I even got an audiophile-grade switch. The more I invested, the better the sound got—but I never reached the sonic satisfaction I was looking for with digital.

    Eventually, I scaled it all down. I sold the DAC and bought a relatively cheaper one. I redirected most of my budget to analog—buying vinyl and, more recently, getting into reel-to-reel tapes.

    Today, analog is quietly but unmistakably making a comeback. Vinyl records are back on store shelves—even in mainstream retail—and new pressing plants are opening around the world. Reel-to-reel tapes, once considered obsolete, are being revived by niche labels with growing demand. Film photography has followed a similar path, proving that physical media still holds value in a digital-first world. This resurgence isn’t driven by nostalgia alone—it’s about rediscovery. Rediscovery of process, of permanence, of intentionality—and of sound. Many audiophile vinyl reissues today even surpass the quality of the original pressings, thanks to careful mastering and modern production techniques. For those ready to explore a medium that invites you to slow down, engage, and listen with purpose, there has never been a better time. The tools are here, the community is alive, and the door to analog is wide open.

    Here is the part 2.

  • A Tale of Two Amplifiers: Tube Stereotype Redefined

    Introduction

    The 300B is arguably the most famous triode vacuum tube ever made. Introduced by Western Electric in 1938 for telephone signal amplification, it has since become a legend in the world of high-end audio.

    300B tubes are renowned for their midrange quality. If you’ve ever heard a decent amplifier built around 300Bs, you already know how beautiful the midrange can be — organic, fluid, rich in texture, and harmonically saturated. Vocals, in particular, are often magical through these tubes. Maybe it’s because they were originally designed for voice transmission; who knows?

    The EL34 is another iconic tube — a power pentode introduced by Mullard in 1955. Unlike the 300B, the EL34 was specifically designed for audio amplification. It, too, is celebrated for its midrange: warm, smooth, and inviting. Countless amplifiers have been built around EL34s, and they remain popular and sought after to this day.

    What do these two tubes have in common? They’re often criticized for lacking slam and authority in the bass region. That’s the stereotype, at least. And there’s some justification for it — many amplifiers built with these tubes haven’t delivered great low-end performance.

    But that leads to an important question: is the limitation in the tube itself, or in the design of the amplifier around it?

    Engström Sound – Arne

    Image © Engström Sound. Used under fair use for commentary and review purposes.

    Engström Sound is a Swedish hi-fi company that primarily produces tube amplifiers. The Arne is their integrated amplifier, featuring four 300B tubes in a push-pull configuration. While it’s considered their “entry-level” model, its sound is anything but entry-level.

    During a casual visit to a good friend — who also happens to be the best hi-fi dealer in my country — he offered me a demo of the Arne. It was my first time hearing the Arne, or any Engström product for that matter. What followed was one of the most memorable hi-fi experiences of my life.

    The amplifier was paired with Albedo speakers from Italy — low-sensitivity speakers, which are an unusual match for a tube amplifier. But as soon as the music started, I realized that this amp was anything but stereotypical.

    Like many, I had my own biases against the 300B tube. This wasn’t my first encounter with it, but it was certainly an eye-opener. The first thing that struck me was the bass. Yes — the bass! It was fast, tight, textured, and deep. It had tonal accuracy and harmonic richness. These qualities are difficult to achieve even with high-end solid-state amplifiers — and here they were, delivered effortlessly by an amplifier built around 300B tubes.

    I spent several minutes focusing solely on the bass, simply because I so rarely encounter this level of quality. The fact that it was coming from a 300B amp left me stunned. It took me a while to shake off the initial shock and recalibrate my brain. Once I did, I was finally able to take in the full sonic picture.

    This amplifier delivers everything we love about 300B tubes, while also meeting — and exceeding — modern audiophile expectations. There’s no trace of “vintage tube sound” here. The highs are magical, the midrange is fluid and rich, and the bass — yes, again — is astonishing. As expected, vocals are rendered beautifully. The soundstage is expansive, with excellent imaging and instrument separation.

    But the most important quality of this amplifier — and in my opinion, where it outshines many others — is its ability to convey emotion. I’ve never encountered another amplifier that connects so directly to the emotional core of music.

    I played “Bach: Sonatas for Violin & Keyboard Nos. 3–6” by Renaud Capuçon and David Fray. The album begins with a sustained violin note — and from that very first tone, I burst into tears, completely overwhelmed. I’m a long-time David Fray fan and have listened to this album countless times. But this time, I couldn’t contain my emotions. The Arne draws you into the music so deeply that once you’re in, it’s an emotional rollercoaster — with the musicians themselves at the helm.

    After I returned home, I carried the magic of the Arne with me. Since I already own a fantastic amplifier — the Kondo ONGAKU (you can read more about it in this post) — I managed to resist the temptation to buy the Arne for myself. But I couldn’t stop talking about the experience. I shared it enthusiastically with my hi-fi buddies and, most importantly, with my best friend.

    He and I started this journey together decades ago — true partners in crime. After hearing my detailed impressions and excitement, he decided to purchase the Arne. I was thrilled. Not just for him, but also because it meant the amplifier would be nearby, and I could listen to it whenever I wanted.

    He owns the same speakers I do — the Blumenhofer Acoustics Corona 4x180s (I’ve written about them here). The synergy between the Arne and these speakers is exceptional, and he’s been enjoying the combination ever since.

    At some point, he shared a fun anecdote with me. We have a bit of a raving past — and although we don’t listen to electronic music like we used to, nostalgia occasionally kicks in. One day, he played electronic music for hours at full volume. The Arne didn’t even flinch. It delivered pant-flapping bass without breaking a sweat — from a 300B tube amplifier, no less. Remarkable.

    After all these experiences, and after spending plenty of time with the Arne, I’ve come to a firm conclusion: the stereotypes about 300B tubes are simply not accurate. It’s not the tube’s fault — it’s the design limitations of many amplifiers that gave rise to those clichés. Engström Sound proves that it’s entirely possible to build a 300B amplifier with zero compromises in any part of the sonic spectrum.

    Kondo Audio Note – Melius

    Image © Kondo Audio Note. Used under fair use for commentary and review purposes.

    The Melius is Kondo’s EL34-based push-pull power amplifier. Full disclosure: I own Kondo gear, and I love the brand. I may be biased, but I’ll do my best to stay objective and let the experience speak for itself.

    One of my closest hi-fi friends owns the Melius, and I’ve spent a great deal of time listening to it — both at his place and in my own system, where I had the amp for a couple of weeks. This amplifier initially came to his home for an audition, and we were both there to test it.

    We were already familiar with the typical sound of EL34 tubes — and admittedly, we carried our own set of assumptions about their limitations. At the same time, we knew what Kondo is capable of, and we were deeply curious about what they had achieved with this tube.

    I vividly remember the moment we played the first track. The sound was immediately familiar — not in a generic sense, but in that unmistakable Kondo way. If you know Kondo gear, you’ll recognize the sonic signature right away: balance, purity, and coherence across the spectrum.

    Like every Kondo component I’ve heard or owned, the Melius is incredibly balanced. Nothing stands out unnaturally. There’s no forwardness, no hollowness — just a seamless, coherent presentation. Dynamics are stunning — both macro and micro — and the amplifier has remarkable speed. It’s lively, immediate, and refined all at once.

    Crucially, the Melius sounds nothing like the stereotypical EL34 amplifier. The classic midrange magic is there — warm, smooth, and intimate — but what was truly astonishing was that this smoothness came without the usual drawbacks. In fact, quite the opposite — detail retrieval was top-tier, and the presentation remained precise and articulate.

    Bass was another revelation. It was tight, textured, and fast — full of energy and nuance. The highs had ample air and sparkle, never straying into harshness, yet never sounding veiled or soft either.

    Listening to the Melius was an eye-opening experience. It marked a milestone in my hi-fi journey — a moment when another long-held belief, about the limitations of the EL34 tube, was gracefully dismantled by brilliant design.

    Final Verdict

    Whether it’s the 300B-based Arne or the EL34-powered Melius, these amplifiers have proven to me that the stereotypes surrounding these tubes are the result of sub-par designs — not the tubes themselves. In the hands of true masters, these tubes can deliver a perfectly balanced, uncompromised performance.

    While circuit topologies may not have evolved drastically in recent years, the quality of components has improved significantly over the past few decades. More importantly, manufacturers like Engström Sound and Kondo have perfected the art of output transformer design — a cornerstone of any tube amplifier’s performance.

    Yes, tubes come with their own set of challenges. They require maintenance, and the tubes themselves are consumable. They’re also not the final word in low noise. But when implemented with care, they can surpass even the finest solid-state designs in the areas that matter most to the soul of music: musicality, fluidity, timbre, and harmonic richness.

    That’s why, more than a century after their invention, tubes are still with us — and they’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

    If you’ve ever dismissed the 300B or EL34 based on reputation alone, these amplifiers might just change your mind — as they did mine.

  • Hi-Fi Rebellion: An Unorthodox Guide to Put Together A Hi-Fi System

    Introduction

    Once, 10 watts were enough to fill a vast cinema with emotion and presence. Now, even 600 struggle to breathe life into a living room. We haven’t just added watts; we’ve subtracted soul.

    This endless cycle of harder-to-drive speakers demanding ever more power needs to end.

    The first reason — and I’m sorry to say it — is that these systems are boring. A box made from unobtanium alloy, milled with five-axis CNC machines until 95% of the material is reduced to metal shavings; drivers built from space-age composites, coated in diamond vapor… and yet, somehow, they sound like anything but music.

    The second reason? They’ve become unacceptably expensive. We keep throwing more and more money at a synthetically created problem instead of addressing its root cause.

    And what is the root cause? The speakers.

    If you’re like me and tired of this, keep reading. If you’re happy with your current setup, I envy you — feel free to move on.

    The Problem with Modern Speaker Design

    Most modern speakers use a dynamic driver-in-a-box design — typically a three-way configuration. At its core, this is the most basic, no-risk approach to speaker design. No hassle. No surprises.

    But most of them are also wildly inefficient. Worse, they’re incredibly difficult to drive. Many present awful impedance curves. Some dip below 2 ohms at certain frequencies.

    Two ohms? That’s practically a short circuit. What is the amplifier doing — driving a wire?

    To cope with this, amplifier manufacturers respond by building ever more powerful amps, with power supplies so massive they could keep a household online for a few hours.

    Pity.

    Or… is there a pattern here? A silent agreement between speaker and amplifier manufacturers?

    I don’t know…

    But I remember a similar pattern from the IT industry. For nearly two decades, Microsoft would release a more CPU-intensive version of Windows, and Intel would release a faster processor. People upgraded their PCs — and at the end of the day, both companies made billions off the cycle.

    When you look at the ultra high-end of the hi-fi market, a familiar pattern emerges. There are only a handful of mainstream speaker manufacturers, and only a few amplifier brands capable of driving their products. As you move further upmarket, the freedom of choice begins to shrink — not expand.

    And most of these companies, by hi-fi industry standards, are giants. Backed by powerful marketing machines, they dominate the landscape. You’ll see a hi-fi influencer — pardon me, reviewer — touring their factories on YouTube every couple of months. Their gear is everywhere: magazine covers, YouTube thumbnails, and the main stages of hi-fi exhibitions.

    The Boutique Rebels

    When you shift your focus away from the mainstream, you’ll notice a few manufacturers — mostly boutique — boldly going against the current.

    One such brand is Devore Fidelity, led by John Devore. I’d like to highlight one of his standout designs: the O/96.

    First of all, it’s a wide-baffle speaker. Wide baffles have fallen out of favor in modern speaker design, mostly due to concerns about diffraction — which is why most contemporary speakers have narrow front baffles. But John Devore uses a wide baffle intentionally, not as a relic, but as a tool to increase efficiency. And he doesn’t stop there. He tunes the baffle — likely spending countless hours — to achieve accurate, natural sound, much like a master luthier shaping a fine instrument.

    The result? A two-way speaker with 96 dB sensitivity and a nominal impedance of 10 ohms — using modern drivers. These are exceptionally easy-to-drive speakers. You can pair them with virtually any amplifier you like: from a 10-watt single-ended triode tube amp to a hulking solid-state powerhouse. The speaker doesn’t demand a specific topology or brand. It gives you freedom.

    Another example: Blumenhofer Acoustics — the brand behind the speakers I own and love. I’ve written a dedicated post about them. Most Blumenhofer models offer over 94 dB sensitivity and 8-ohm nominal impedance. The model I own is rated at 4 ohms, but the company thoughtfully includes an impedance linearization circuit in the crossover to make the speaker more tube-friendly.

    Again, we come back to freedom of choice. I’ve used everything from a solid-state integrated amp to a massive Class A power amp, and now a SET tube amplifier. The speakers worked beautifully with each of them. They didn’t dictate what amp I must use — I got to choose what sounded best to me.

    There are many other manufacturers I haven’t mentioned, each exploring alternative design philosophies: point-source speakers, concentric drivers, single-driver designs, horns, field-coil drivers, and more.

    This isn’t just about freedom of choice — though that matters — it’s ultimately about sound. When crafted with care, skill, and time, these alternative designs often sound far better than the typical dynamic driver-in-a-box approach.

    Speakers — arguably the most influential component in any system after the room itself — are also the most personal. They aren’t lab instruments or components of a spacecraft. They’re more like finely crafted musical instruments. They don’t just reproduce music — they play it.

    How to Put Together a Hi-Fi System

    The first question you need to ask yourself is: Do you actually listen to music?

    I mean really listen — sitting in front of your system in a dimly lit room, fully immersed — or does music mostly play in the background while you’re doing something else: reading, cooking, working?

    If it’s background music, there are plenty of all-in-one systems and active speakers with decent sound. They’re convenient and often great for casual listening. But they’re beyond the scope of this post — and this blog.

    If you’re a critical listener and planning to build a hi-fi system, the very first thing to decide is where the system will go: a shared living space or a dedicated listening room?

    The room is the most important component in your system — and the most overlooked. It introduces more distortion than any amplifier, DAC, or cable ever will. That’s why it has the greatest impact on what you actually hear.

    If your system will live in a shared space, your options might be limited. Aesthetic considerations — especially getting the approval of a significant other — can often take precedence.

    But if you have a dedicated room for music, that’s ideal. Sooner or later, you’ll realize that acoustic treatment is essential to get the most out of your system. Just know: these treatments tend to be ugly and take up a lot of space.

    That said, the same basic principles apply to both setups.

    After choosing the room, the second step is determining your budget — and there are some less obvious items that can cost more than you think. I’ll get to those.

    If it’s not already clear: The most important purchase is the speakers. They are the heart of your system — and ironically, the hardest component to change later. Everything else will be chosen and tuned around them.

    Stay away from the mainstream. Avoid the speakers you see everywhere. There are many lesser-known options that offer better sound, better value, are easier to drive, and — most importantly — are more fun and engaging to listen to.

    Don’t shy away from spending the majority of your budget on speakers. If you get them right the first time, they’ll stay with you for many years.

    What Comes After Speakers?

    The amplifier comes second. If you’ve followed my earlier suggestions, you should have the freedom to choose from a wide range of amplifiers. There are plenty of excellent options at reasonable prices — and unlike speakers, amplifiers are much easier to swap out. Home trials are key whenever possible (check out this post).

    Sources — whether analog or digital — are a broad topic. If you don’t already have a CD or vinyl collection, you’ll likely start with a streaming setup that supports high-quality services.

    Hidden Costs to Watch Out For

    Hidden cost #1: The music server Yes, it makes a big difference. A good music server can have a huge impact on sound quality, and prices range from a few hundred to tens of thousands of dollars. A purpose-built server, designed specifically for audio, is well worth the investment.

    Hidden cost #2: Cables Cables do matter. I was a skeptic for a long time. I ran my system with stock power cords and cheap interconnects — until one day, my best friend brought over an aftermarket power cable and a couple of decent interconnects. We plugged them in, and the improvement was so striking, I was mad at myself for not being more open-minded earlier.

    You don’t have to spend a fortune on cables — but stock ones simply won’t do the job. In my experience, the most critical is the speaker cable, followed by power cords, and then interconnects.

    I recommend budgeting for a full set of decent cables from the same manufacturer and product line, and upgrading them all at once. If possible, try them at home first. Also, be patient: cables can take a few days to settle in, so don’t judge the sound too quickly.

    Hidden cost #3: The rack This ties directly into vibration control, which is often overlooked. A proper hi-fi rack can be surprisingly expensive. At the beginning, any rigid piece of furniture will do — the key is rigidity. Later on, if your budget allows, a well-designed hi-fi rack is absolutely a worthy upgrade.

    Stretching Your Budget

    If you’re on a tight budget, the second-hand market is your best friend. Even if your budget isn’t limited, buying used can help you afford a higher-quality component than you’d be able to buy new.

    Many audiophiles take excellent care of their gear, and second-hand equipment often looks and performs like new. If the seller is local — especially if they live in the same city — they might even let you try the component at home before committing. It’s a great way to discover hidden gems without breaking the bank.

    Final Verdict

    There are countless components to choose from, and narrowing down a shortlist isn’t always easy. The internet can be a powerful ally — if you know how to separate signal from noise.

    But keep in mind: reviews, specs, measurements, and influencer hype are only part of the picture. None of them can fully predict how something will sound in your room, with your system, and to your ears.

    Don’t be afraid to go against the grain. The mainstream isn’t always wrong — but it’s rarely where magic lives.

    At the end of the day, a hi-fi system isn’t about checking boxes or chasing trends. It’s about building something that moves you — something that makes you want to stop, sit down, and really listen. If you’ve done that, you’ve already succeeded.

    And if you’re still figuring it out? You’re in good company. That’s what this whole journey is about.

  • Hi-Fi Reviewers and Dealers

    How to navigate the noise and find your own path to hi-fi glory.

    Introduction

    The internet has transformed nearly every aspect of our lives over the past 30 years — and the world of hi-fi is no exception.

    Reviews have always been an integral part of the hi-fi industry. Before the rise of the internet, printed magazines were the primary source. Then came dedicated websites. Today, arguably the most influential platform for hi-fi reviews is YouTube.

    For a long time, traditional magazines held a near-monopoly on hi-fi reviews. But the internet has democratized that space. With minimal investment, anyone can now share their opinions and reach a wide audience. This revolution in idea-sharing comes with both advantages and drawbacks.

    Marketing is a central part of modern business. Every company aims to raise awareness about its products and services within its target audience. But marketing is often weaponized — used not just to inform, but to sell products and services beyond their real value or to crush the competition. The return on investment (ROI) for marketing is typically very high, which is why advertising has become such a massive industry.

    Targeting is the key. To maximize impact, you want your marketing efforts focused on potential buyers — not wasted on the uninterested. So, let me ask you this:

    Can you imagine a more effective marketing platform than hi-fi reviews?

    This is, of course, a rhetorical — and deliberately provocative — question. The point I’m trying to make is this: you can’t fully trust everything you read or watch.

    Have you ever noticed how a new hi-fi product suddenly appears everywhere — on websites, in magazines, across YouTube channels — all at once? Does that mean the product is so exceptional that everyone is genuinely excited about it? Or is it more likely that the manufacturer simply has a larger marketing budget than others?

    This doesn’t mean the product is necessarily good or bad, or that it’s worth the asking price. The point is — it’s almost impossible to tell.

    What makes navigating hi-fi reviews even more difficult is the fact that this is a deeply subjective hobby. One person’s taste in sound doesn’t necessarily match another’s. Even if you stumble upon a completely independent review, it still reflects the reviewer’s personal experience.

    And let’s not forget — music is emotional, even abstract. It triggers feelings that are incredibly hard to articulate. Trying to describe those sensations in words is inherently limited.

    Arguably, all of this subjectivity has sparked a kind of counter-reaction: there are people who believe in pure objectivity and rely solely on measurements. I’ll come back to this later in this post.

    For now, let’s state the obvious: nothing beats listening for yourself, right?

    However, even that approach has its flaws. Where, when, and how you hear a component can make a huge difference. It’s virtually impossible to isolate the sound of a single piece of gear. Even in a controlled setup, when you swap out just one component, you’re still hearing the full system — including electronics, cables, and how everything interacts with each other and with the room.

    In my experience, the best way to judge a component is to test it in your own listening environment — and not just for a couple of hours or even a few days. Ideally, you need to live with it for at least a few weeks.

    Reviewers

    Even so, you still need a shortlist of components to try. It’s practically impossible to audition everything at home — for all kinds of logistical, financial, and practical reasons. That’s where the internet and reviews can actually become valuable tools — if you build your own framework to navigate them effectively.

    Let me share mine.

    First of all, I keep a personal list of reviewers I can relate to. I’m not necessarily interested in what they’re reviewing, but how they articulate sound and describe their experience. It’s the language, insight, and structure that matter most to me — not the gear itself.

    One reviewer I want to start with is Tom Martin from The Absolute Sound magazine. I’ve been watching his videos since they launched their YouTube channel, and I’m also a subscriber to the magazine. Here, I’ll focus on his video content.

    To be honest, his early videos weren’t particularly strong. It was obvious he was reading from a teleprompter, and he looked uncomfortable in front of the camera. The videos felt more like written reviews being read aloud. But over time, the quality has improved significantly — they’re now orders of magnitude better than they used to be.

    What really caught my attention was a blog post he shared a while back on “Audio Believability.” I found it incredibly insightful. He continues to use the challenges outlined in that post as a framework for his reviews.

    Even in a subjective domain like hi-fi, having a well-defined framework makes the reviewer’s perspective easier to understand — and easier to compare across different reviews. Whether you agree with his conclusions or not, the way Tom Martin articulates sound — and the structure he brings to his reviews — had a profound impact on how I approach critical listening.

    Another reviewer I’d like to mention is Herb Reichert from Stereophile magazine. He has been writing for the magazine for quite some time and occasionally appears on YouTube as well. Herb has been in the hi-fi world for decades, and in my opinion, he’s one of the most mature audiophiles out there.

    The maturity I’m referring to has nothing to do with age — it’s about listening maturity: the ability to truly enjoy what you’re hearing and to listen with depth and perspective.

    In one of his interviews, he said something that stuck with me — I’m paraphrasing here: “Whatever you buy, don’t buy anything boring.”

    That single quote completely changed the way I approach hi-fi.

    At its core, this hobby is about the joy of listening to music. The more time you spend in front of your system, completely immersed in music, the better. After reading Herb’s reviews and listening to his insights, I simplified my own critical listening approach to one very basic criterion:

    When I’m listening to something new, if I find myself fully immersed in the music, with the urge to keep playing one song after another, one record after another — that’s the right component for me.

    If, on the other hand, my audiophile brain kicks in and I start nitpicking the sound, or if I get bored and feel the urge to shut the system down and walk away — it’s not for me.

    Dead simple. Thanks to Herb Reichert.

    I’m also a long-time viewer of the YouTube channel The Audiophiliac, hosted by Steve Guttenberg. Steve has been in the hi-fi world forever, and he happens to be a good friend of Herb Reichert. He takes a fully subjective approach to reviewing gear and tends to focus primarily on affordable components.

    What I appreciate about Steve is his relaxed, passionate approach and the way he articulates his listening experiences. He uses music — and records — to describe what he hears, often referencing less common tracks instead of the overused demo songs we’ve all grown tired of. That makes his reviews feel more personal, more grounded, and far more enjoyable to watch.

    Steve has asked this question on several occasions — and I’m paraphrasing again: “How do you distinguish better from different in hi-fi?”

    It’s a simple question on the surface, but there’s no easy answer.

    He also poses another important question: What actually qualifies as an upgrade, and how do you know when it’s time to make one? His advice is to first identify what bothers you about your current system — and then focus your upgrade efforts specifically on that area.

    These questions were monumental for me in shaping how I approach gear changes. And believe me, they’ve saved me from a lot of unnecessary hassle — and more importantly, from making costly mistakes.

    Another reviewer I really like is Tarun, known as A British Audiophile. In contrast to Steve, Tarun takes a much more analytical and structured approach to his reviews. He brings a solid framework to each video, clearly outlining his criteria and observations. He also dives into some of the more technical and “nerdy” aspects of hi-fi — which I find incredibly valuable, especially if you’re interested in the engineering side of the hobby, like I am.

    Lastly, I want to mention Ron Resnick, co-owner of the What’s Best Forum. Although he’s not a full-time hi-fi reviewer, he regularly publishes in-depth interviews with manufacturers and industry veterans — and they’re some of the best content out there.

    What I really appreciate about Ron is the quality of his questions. He asks the things we’re all thinking, but that most people rarely have the nerve to say out loud. For example, when interviewing a manufacturer about the latest iteration of one of their products, he always asks, “What exactly has improved sonically compared to the previous generation?”

    It’s both insightful and, at times, entertaining — especially when you watch certain manufacturers struggle to give a meaningful answer.

    I read and watch almost every hi-fi reviewer out there. There are many more respectable voices I haven’t mentioned, but what I’ve shared here are the ones who’ve had the greatest influence on me — on how I listen, and how I evaluate gear.

    That said, there are also plenty of reviewers I don’t respect. In some cases, the bias is so blatant it feels like an insult to the viewer. It’s painfully obvious when a review is more of a sales pitch than an honest opinion — often funded, directly or indirectly, by the manufacturer.

    Ironically, the more emphatically a reviewer insists that they’re “completely independent” and “pay for everything out of pocket,” the more suspicious I become. In my experience, the louder the claim, the more likely the opposite is true. And, this is not just a speculation, it’s based on insider information from the industry.

    Forums

    Forums don’t have the best reputation when it comes to being a reliable source of meaningful information — and for good reason. People often have a tendency to argue when they disagree, and conversations frequently get derailed after just a few posts.

    That said, I still want to highlight one forum that, in my opinion, provides genuinely useful insights into hi-fi and audio gear: the What’s Best Forum.

    If you spend some time reading through it, you’ll notice that many contributors are highly experienced and truly know what they’re talking about. Most of them are actual owners — people who have bought the gear themselves or experienced it firsthand in familiar listening environments. In my opinion, this kind of grounded, real-world experience is one of the most valuable sources of information available.

    Even if you don’t actively contribute to the forum — like me — I still recommend reading it. Over time, you’ll start to recognize users whose taste aligns with yours, and you can benefit greatly from their impressions and recommendations.

    The Objectivists

    Like in many areas of life, hi-fi enthusiasts are unfortunately divided into camps — primarily, subjectivists and objectivists.

    Subjectivists focus solely on their personal listening experience — how the gear makes them feel and how it performs in real-world listening. Objectivists, on the other hand, concentrate on engineering precision and measurements, believing that sound quality can and should be quantified.

    Each group has its own forums, YouTube channels, and websites — and sometimes, they clash. Whether it’s in comment sections or online discussions, these debates can quickly become heated — and at times, far from civil.

    Then there are people who either aren’t aware of these camps, or simply don’t care. I count myself among them.

    I believe both camps make valid points, and I try to stand somewhere in the middle. Most hi-fi products are, after all, electronic devices, and there’s no question that engineering matters. I want to spend my money on gear that’s well-designed and manufactured to a high standard. But at the same time, I also want to enjoy how it sounds — to be immersed in music and to feel emotionally connected when I listen.

    To me, these goals are not contradictory — they’re complementary.

    In my experience, measurements alone never tell the full story. They reveal how well a component is engineered technically, but not how it will sound. I’ve heard speakers, amplifiers, and DACs with nearly identical measurement profiles sound dramatically different.

    That said, I also don’t want to use components that sound decent but reveal obvious design flaws. I want gear that’s both technically solid and sonically engaging.

    Hi-fi is part science, part art. Nearly every circuit topology has already been explored — especially in analog audio. Whether solid-state or tube-based, most designs trace their roots back decades. Yet, we still have thousands of manufacturers producing gear that sounds uniquely different, even when based on similar circuit principles.

    That’s the artistic side of audio. And that, in my view, is what separates the great manufacturers from the merely competent ones.

    Let me use Kondo Audio Note’s ONGAKU — which I recently wrote about in a blog post — as an example.

    Its schematic was published by its designer back in 1992. When you look at the circuit, it’s a fairly straightforward design with no major surprises. Many DIYers have built versions of this amplifier, and even some manufacturers have released their own replicas.

    And while some of those versions sound surprisingly good, none of them come even close to what the real ONGAKU sounds like.

    Why? Because it’s not just about the circuit design.

    Every detail matters. Every single component — the capacitors, resistors, inductors, transformers — plays a role. The internal layout matters. The wiring matters. The voicing of the amplifier comes from how all these parts are chosen and implemented together.

    The best manufacturers — like Kondo — use these elements the way a master sculptor uses tools and materials. They shape the sound with intention and artistry, far beyond what’s visible in a schematic or a measurement.

    The Dealers

    Hi-fi isn’t a necessity — it’s a luxury. And in today’s world, given the prices involved, it can be far more expensive than jewelry or mechanical watches. In my opinion, hi-fi buyers deserve to be treated just as well as high-end jewelry customers — if not better.

    The entire hi-fi journey starts with the buying experience. You need trusted dealers who know what they’re talking about, who take the time to understand you and your listening preferences. They should be able to demonstrate equipment in a proper listening environment — and most importantly, they should offer home trials for serious buyers.

    Post-sale support is also a crucial part of the experience. Not everyone has the time or technical know-how to properly set up a hi-fi system. Dialing in speaker placement, in particular, can be challenging and frustrating if not done correctly. A proper hi-fi dealer must have the skills and resources to support their customers after the sale — not just until the payment clears.

    Unfortunately, dealers like this are rare. But they do exist.

    I’m one of the lucky ones who has a dealer that goes above and beyond, and it has made my hi-fi journey all the more enjoyable. They are responsive, answer phone calls or messages almost 24/7, and—despite being in a different city—regularly come to my home when I need hands-on help.

    Whenever I want to audition a piece of gear, they simply ship it to my home and let me keep it as long as needed to make a decision. No pressure. No rush.

    That’s the kind of experience every enthusiast deserves.

    Once you’ve navigated the internet and created a shortlist of components, always check which dealers carry those products — and, more importantly, what kind of service they offer. That’s an integral part of the hi-fi journey, and it can make all the difference.

    Final Verdict

    Navigating the world of hi-fi is as much about self-discovery as it is about sound. There’s no single authority, no universally “correct” opinion — only perspectives shaped by personal taste, experience, and context. Reviews, forums, measurements, and dealer advice can all serve as useful tools, but none of them are infallible. The key is learning how to interpret them, filter out the noise, and find what truly resonates with you.

    Over time, I’ve realized that the most valuable guide isn’t the loudest reviewer, the sharpest graph, or even the best demo — it’s your own listening instincts. The gear that keeps you in your chair for hours, immersed in music and forgetting the world, is the gear worth keeping. Everything else is just data.

    So trust your ears. Build your reference points. Be open, but skeptical. This hobby isn’t just about chasing perfection — it’s about learning what matters most to you, and curating a system that brings that to life.

  • Living with Kondo Audio Note ONGAKU: A Journey into Sonic Purity

    Mature sound, timeless design, and the slow reveal of greatness.
    Image © Kondo Audio Note. Used under fair use for commentary and review purposes.

    Background

    In 1989, Hiroyasu Kondo introduced his all-silver single-ended triode (SET) amplifier to the world. Since then, the ONGAKU has arguably become one of the most famous amplifiers ever made and is still in production today.

    In 1992, Kondo-san published an article in Sound Practices magazine, explaining the ideas behind his design. That article even included the schematic for the ONGAKU.

    Over the years, the ONGAKU has undergone some component changes while keeping the original design more or less intact. One of the most notable changes involves the transformers. When the famous Japanese transformer manufacturer Tango went out of business, Kondo began winding their transformers in-house. Most of the other components (capacitors, resistors, etc.) have also been updated with more modern versions.

    Roughly two years ago, I struck a very tempting deal and acquired a fairly recent version of the ONGAKU brand new. As a seasoned audiophile, this was a dream come true.

    First Impressions

    My first impression was a disaster. I clearly remember the moment we hooked up the ONGAKU and started listening to it. The sound was unbalanced, immature, tense — like a brick wall: no depth, no cohesion, no nothing. Literally, my panic attack kicked in. My brain started listing all the possible negative things at a speed I couldn’t even keep up with.

    After a while, I took a deep breath, calmed myself down, and started repeating to myself: the amplifier and all the tubes are new — let them burn in for at least a couple of hours before listening critically. I clicked on a random playlist, shut the door to my listening room, and left.

    After a couple of hours, I came back to the room for a second time. When I opened the door, even before sitting in the sweet spot, the sound had changed so drastically that I had the biggest hi-fi relief of my life. Although this wasn’t the first or last time I’d experienced a brand-new component sounding terrible out of the box, it was definitely the most high-profile one.

    Over the next hours, days, and weeks, the magic of the ONGAKU unfolded right in front of me. If you can manage to shake off the initial panic, it’s a wonderful journey to experience a component’s burn-in and maturation over time.

    The Sound

    First and foremost, the ONGAKU’s sound is far from the stereotypical tube amplifier sound, while still retaining all the strengths of a SET amplifier. And yes, I’m aware this has been said about many modern tube amps — but the ONGAKU is in a different league than most.

    The ONGAKU truly is a high-end amplifier. It excels at every audiophile parameter you can imagine. It presents an incredible soundstage with pinpoint imaging and separation. The soundstage it creates is one of the most believable I’ve ever experienced. The ONGAKU is a very dynamic amplifier — both micro and macro dynamics are splendid. Tonal balance and timbre are also nearly perfect. You can experience the full harmonic textures and richness of a wooden-bodied instrument like a violin, cello, or double bass. If you mostly listen to acoustic instruments, like I do, once you hear this amplifier, you’ll immediately understand what I mean.

    However, what makes the ONGAKU legendary is not these features alone, but the balance between them. The sound is far from the “dealer sound” you often encounter during demos, which can be very impressive and striking for the first 5–10 minutes. The ONGAKU never overemphasizes anything — the sound is not striking or in-your-face. Treble is silky smooth with texture and harmonics, the midrange is very musical and fluid, and the bass is fast and articulated with texture and detail. The more time you spend with this amplifier, the more layers of sound you discover.

    If you are into wines, you know that what makes a wine great and sought after is its balance. A good, mature wine is complex in flavor, rounded, and layered. That’s also how I would describe the sound of the ONGAKU.

    The Tubes

    My copy of the ONGAKU came with 4 × Gold Lion GZ34s, 2 × Electro-Harmonix 6072s, 2 × Philips JAN 5687s, and 2 × PSVANE 211s. With stock tubes, the ONGAKU sounds good. However, to reach its full potential, you need to replace these tubes with better ones. In my experience, those better ones are always NOS, and some can be very expensive. Always factor in the cost of tubes when budgeting for a tube amplifier.

    PSVANE 211s

    The stock 211 tubes that came with the ONGAKU are made by PSVANE specifically for Kondo. These are not off-the-shelf tubes; they are Kondo-branded.

    They’re modern-sounding, good tubes. If you prefer a dynamic and contemporary tube sound, you don’t need to change them.

    I replaced mine with 1942 JAN GE tubes. The GEs are less dynamic than the stock ones — but in a good way. Their midrange fluidity is incredible, the treble is smooth, and the bass is nicely controlled and detailed. GEs are much more forgiving, especially for sub-par recordings.

    Electro-Harmonix 6072s

    These tubes are my main criticism of Kondo electronics. Almost every Kondo component uses 6072s, and the EH versions are mediocre at best. I really struggle to understand why Kondo continues to ship their gear with them.

    In the ONGAKU, they’re used in the input stage in an SRPP configuration and have a huge impact on the sound.

    They sound grainy. The treble is harsh and lacks harmonic richness. The midrange is stiff. The overall character is not musical.

    I strongly recommend replacing them immediately. The best 6072s I’ve heard are the GE triple-mica black plate variants. They’re not as scarce as some NOS types, but still not easy to find. Any GE black plate will do, but in my experience, the triple-mica version has slightly better treble — tonally, they’re very close.

    Philips JAN 5687s

    The 5687s aren’t as critical as the 6072s, but they still influence the sound. These are generally easier to find.

    The tubes that came with the ONGAKU are good-sounding. They are military-spec NOS Sylvania tubes, branded by Philips.

    The best variant I’ve tried is the NOS Tung-Sol — either black or bronze plates. The black plates might be slightly better, but the two are very close. Either one is a solid choice.

    Gold Lion GZ34s

    These are decent tubes, and there are four of them. GZ34s are among the most common rectifiers, which makes their NOS versions both rare and expensive.

    Here’s the big surprise: these tubes have a huge impact on how the ONGAKU sounds. They completely transform the amplifier.

    The best rectifiers for this position are NOS Mullard GZ34s. The metal-base ones are ideal but are almost impossible to find (or afford). Any NOS Mullard is a major upgrade and well worth the investment.

    The Preamplifier

    Technically, the ONGAKU is an integrated amplifier with an input stage, input selector, and volume control. However, if you check Kondo’s website, you’ll see they categorize it under the “power amplifiers” section. Also, most photos of the ONGAKU online show it paired with a preamplifier — usually the Kondo G-70i.

    Kondo G-70i

    The ONGAKU has an input labeled “direct.” You might expect it to bypass the volume control and input stage — but that’s not the case. It only bypasses the input selector.

    To use the direct input, you need to switch the selector to “direct.” That makes the selector a philosophical one — an input switch that bypasses itself.

    A few months after I bought the ONGAKU, I added the G-70i preamplifier to the system. I wouldn’t even call it an upgrade. In my opinion, it’s mandatory. The G-70i elevates the ONGAKU’s sound by at least a couple of notches.

    As I mentioned, the direct input doesn’t bypass the volume control. So, when using a preamp, the natural instinct is to turn the ONGAKU’s volume all the way up and use the preamp for control. That’s what I did at first. But — and I don’t know why — the sound improves when the volume on the ONGAKU is set a few clicks below maximum. Three to five clicks back seems to be the sweet spot. Modern ONGAKUs use a stepped attenuator, so it’s easy to dial in the exact spot every time.

    The G-70i is a fantastic preamplifier and pairs perfectly with the ONGAKU. This combination alone could easily retire you from the hobby. You could spend the rest of your days with them.

    Kondo G-700i

    A couple of months ago, I found myself in another tempting deal — this time to upgrade from the G-70i to the G-700i. The G-700i is the newest preamplifier in Kondo’s lineup, positioned between the flagship G-1000i and the G-70i.

    A direct quote from Kondo’s website:

    “This unit has been developed as a line preamplifier that combines the rich and mature sound of the G-70 with the expressive power of the flagship model G-1000.”

    I don’t know a better way to describe the sound of the G-700i — but I’ll try.

    It’s not always the case, but when I plugged in the G-700i, the improvements were so obvious that I was impressed from the very first moment. I know my system extremely well — even moving a piece of furniture changes what I hear. I was nervous about replacing the G-70i, because I honestly believed I had already reached the limit of what my system could do. I was wrong.

    The tone and timbre remained the same — which is something I’m particularly sensitive to. But the treble region was the first thing that struck me. The harmonic richness and depth improved dramatically.

    The more I listened, the more I understood what “expressive power” really means. I played Ruggiero Ricci – The Glory of Cremona (Analogphonic Reissue). This record features different pieces played on violins made by Stradivari, Guarneri, and Amati. Hearing the nuances between these fine instruments is challenging — even live. But after upgrading to the G-700i, I could clearly distinguish the character of each violin on this recording for the first time.

    Cabling

    Kondo electronics come with their all-silver ACz-AVOCADO power cord, which is a nice touch — one less cable to worry about. However, you can purchase the ACz-AVOCADO Dual version as an upgrade, and that’s what I did. The Duals bring a significant improvement and are worth the investment.

    In my experience, Kondo electronics sound best with their own cables. These cables are an integral part of the sound. I use Theme-41 RCA cables between my G-700i and ONGAKU, and between my sources and the G-700i.

    These cables are not cheap — but they are essential if you want to hear what Kondo electronics are truly capable of.

    Final Verdict

    The ONGAKU is not just a high-end amplifier — it’s a statement of what refined audio reproduction can be. Its sound is mature, balanced, and deeply expressive in a way that few components ever achieve. It doesn’t try to impress with exaggerated traits. Instead, it offers a presentation so natural, so coherent, that over time it subtly raises your own expectations — not just of equipment, but of music itself.

    Living with the ONGAKU has changed how I listen. It’s helped refine my ear, deepen my understanding of tone and texture, and shift my focus from isolated sonic traits to the totality of musical expression. This isn’t about being more critical — it’s about becoming more sensitive to what truly matters.

  • Blumenhofer Acoustics Corona 4×180 Speakers

    The Speakers That Transformed My Hi-Fi Journey Completely
    Image © Blumenhofer Acoustics. Used under fair use for commentary and review purposes.

    Introduction

    I’ve listened to many hi-fi systems over the decades. Some I liked a lot; others, not so much. The more you listen to different systems, the more your listening abilities evolve. That’s a crucial part of an audiophile’s journey.

    But do we really know what our sound is until we hear it somewhere? In my case, I didn’t — not until I heard these speakers for the first time.

    During a casual trip to a hi-fi dealer with some of my audiophile friends, I stumbled upon Blumenhofer Acoustics speakers. Until that day, I had never even heard of the brand, let alone listened to their speakers. We started in the smaller demo room, where a model from their Genuin series was playing. The system sounded different from anything I’d heard before. I liked certain aspects of the presentation and quickly realized this was an interesting and unique brand.

    Then we moved to the larger demo room, where the Corona 4x180s were set up. The dealer played a random track, and from the very first note, my jaw dropped. I had never experienced sound like that before.

    What struck me immediately was that instead of analyzing the sound or nitpicking technical aspects, I was completely absorbed in the music. Even the cliché demo tracks — the ones we usually dismiss — felt fresh and emotionally engaging.

    To be clear, the setup in that room was far from perfect. The bass was nearly absent, the soundstage wasn’t particularly impressive, and the overall tonal balance was off. But it took me a few songs to even notice these flaws — and once I did, I forgot about them just as quickly and found myself immersed in the music again.

    After we came back from the trip, I couldn’t stop thinking about the experience. For the next ten days, I called my friend and hi-fi mentor every single day. We talked about the speakers — whether it was a good idea to buy them — for almost an hour each time.

    I was hesitant. I didn’t know much about the brand, and the speakers were expensive. But together, we came to the conclusion that what I had experienced might have been one of the most important hi-fi moments of my life.

    And so, I decided to buy that exact pair.

    The Evolution of the Electronics

    A couple of days after the purchase, the speakers were delivered to my house. I immediately set them up in my room and started listening.

    I was nervous — but the magic that had pulled me toward these speakers was still there. With a huge sense of relief, I began fine-tuning their placement.

    I’m obsessive about proper speaker positioning and always spend as much time as needed to dial in a pair. It didn’t take long to realize that these speakers were extremely sensitive to placement. Of course, every speaker responds to positioning, but these were on another level. Move them just a couple of centimeters forward and the bass would vanish completely. Move them a bit further and the bass returned — but now it was boomy. Adjust the toe-in by just a few millimeters and the entire presentation would change.

    And so on, and so on.

    I decided to take careful measurements and document everything. I messed up the setup many times and had to revert to previously known good positions. It took me weeks to get them dialed in — and months to perfect the placement.

    At the time, my amplifier was an Ayre Acoustics AX-5. To this day, I still think it’s one of the best amplifiers in its price class — possibly even above it. It had a very musical, fluid midrange, good bass control, and pleasing timbre. It also paired well with the 4x180s.

    However, after a couple of months, it became clear that these speakers were capable of more. They deserved a better amplifier — perhaps a separate pre/power setup instead of an integrated.

    After some searching, I found an Audio Research 40th Anniversary (REF 40) preamplifier in near-pristine condition — a unit I knew well and had always admired. Around the same time, I came across a Gryphon Mephisto at a reasonable price.

    I decided to buy both — a serious step up to match what the 4x180s could truly deliver.

    At the same time, I also moved away from the “Frankenstein” approach to cabling — mixing different brands — and instead invested in a full loom of In-Akustik cables.

    These cables are what cables should be: they don’t impose a strong sonic signature, yet they offer a perfectly balanced and coherent presentation.

    Once everything was in place, the sound transformed immediately.

    The Mephisto is an absolutely incredible amplifier. Contrary to its extremely masculine appearance, the sound is transparent, balanced, and fluid. Bass control is exceptional, and the overall presentation is deeply musical.

    The REF 40 is arguably the best component Audio Research has ever produced, and it paired beautifully with the Mephisto. This combination significantly elevated my hi-fi game.

    But the more I listened, the more one thought started to bother me. As impressive as the Mephisto is, I began to realize that it was designed primarily for modern, hard-to-drive speaker designs. Its control was phenomenal — but perhaps too much of a good thing?

    The 4x180s are very easy speakers to drive, with relatively high sensitivity (94dB). And over time, it became clear that these speakers were begging for a tube amplifier.

    The ONGAKU

    I’ve written about the ONGAKU in detail in a separate post.

    The ONGAKU’s output transformers have only one secondary winding, designed for 8-ohm loads. There are sonic benefits to using a single secondary, but also a major caveat: most modern speakers — including the 4x180s — have a nominal impedance of 4 ohms. At first glance, that might seem like a serious mismatch.

    However, a speaker’s nominal impedance means very little in practice. Speakers are complex electrical loads, and their impedance varies with frequency. Unless you measure and plot the impedance curve, the nominal figure is almost meaningless.

    In my experience with tube amplifiers and various speakers, even if you have a multi-tapped output transformer, you should always trust your ears over the speaker’s spec sheet.

    Long story short: it was a gamble. But the ONGAKU and the 4x180s turned out to be a match made in heaven.

    The Sound

    First and foremost, the 4x180s can be used with any amplifier that outputs around 8 watts or more — whether solid-state or tube. But after living with them for a while, I’ve come to believe they truly shine with a tube amplifier.

    The 4x180s are a two-way bass-reflex and compression-driver horn hybrid design. The horn can be moved back and forth for time alignment. Blumenhofer Acoustics provides guidance on their website for aligning the drivers by ear. But if you’ve never done it before, it’s hard to know what you’re listening for.

    It took me weeks just to get the horn into a ballpark position, and months to refine it. It was frustrating at first, but once I understood what to listen for, it became fun.

    Is this for everyone? Absolutely not. But if you’re like me — hands-on, patient, and someone who enjoys fine-tuning — it’s well worth the effort. Once the drivers are time-aligned and speaker placement is dialed in, everything clicks.

    The speakers disappear completely — and I mean completely. In total darkness, it’s impossible to localize them. The soundstage is phenomenal: focused, holographic, and emotionally involving.

    The Bass

    The bass performance of these speakers was a game-changer for me. They’re not the deepest or most forceful in sheer output, but the experience of bass is on a different level.

    It’s lightning-fast, with no sluggishness whatsoever. It’s detailed, controlled, and harmonically rich.

    Bass notes from a grand piano or double bass have incredible body, complete with natural overtones and a beautifully realistic decay. You can hear the resonance of the wooden bodies as the sound fades — an unforgettable level of realism.

    The Midrange

    In my opinion, the greatest strength of Blumenhofer speakers lies in the midrange, where about 80% of the music lives. But interestingly, their biggest challenge also resides there.

    These speakers can go mid-forward if not carefully set up. They’re not forgiving in this area. That’s not to say they’re inherently unbalanced — they just require care and precision to get the midrange fully integrated.

    Speaker placement is absolutely critical to achieving a balanced presentation. I’ve set up many speakers throughout my hi-fi journey, and while all are sensitive to placement, these are in a league of their own.

    A few millimeters can make a dramatic difference. Toe-in is essential, and finding the right angle takes patience and experimentation. But once you get it right, everything locks into place.

    The midrange is incredibly lifelike and fluid. Both male and female vocals — as well as solo instruments — sound so convincing, you could swear they’re right in front of you. The depth is equally stunning, whether you’re listening to a jazz trio or a full symphony orchestra.

    The Treble

    The treble region is rich, with ample air and separation. These speakers never sound harsh or aggressive.

    Like the bass, the decay of the highs is impressive — silky smooth, extended, and natural.

    Why the 4x180s?

    Over time, I’ve had the opportunity to listen to several other Blumenhofer Acoustics speakers — including models from the Gioia, Genuin, and Corona lines. Each of them carries the core DNA of the brand: effortless dynamics, horn-loaded immediacy, and a natural, uncolored tonal balance.

    The Gioia 2×10, for example, is a remarkable speaker. It has more scale, more weight in the lower registers, and a physically larger presentation. But it also demands a much larger room to breathe — something my current space simply can’t offer. In the wrong environment, that scale becomes a liability rather than an advantage.

    The 4x180s, on the other hand, get everything right. They don’t show off — they reveal. They don’t impress in the first 30 seconds — they convince you over hours and weeks. Their tonal honesty, midrange richness, spatial accuracy, and speed are simply unmatched — not just within the Blumenhofer range, but in the high-efficiency speaker world more broadly.

    In my view, the 4x180s are the most complete, mature, and musically truthful speakers Blumenhofer has ever made. They are the hidden masterpiece of the lineup — not as visually dramatic as some of their larger siblings, but far more balanced, refined, and emotionally communicative.

    Once properly set up and paired with the right electronics, they don’t just play music — they put the performers in front of you.

    Final Verdict

    Once these speakers are properly dialed in, and system synergy is in place, the result is the most believable and lifelike sound I’ve experienced to date.

    It’s the ultimate “they are here” experience — taken to the extreme.