As you may have read last month, I’ve embarked on a project in which I’m trying to replicate a pair of Bowers & Wilkins 801 D4 Signatures on a budget. If, that is, you can call somewhere around half the retail price of $55,000 a budget (all prices in USD). In the next step of this noble pursuit, I busted open the newly arrived pallet containing a pair of B&W 805 D4 Signatures, matching stands, and two DB2D subwoofers. My neighbor Ron helped me with this, while my other regular helper, Rob, was incapacitated by the flu. Ron rarely asks for anything, being more than happy just to help out and involve himself with my high-end audio affliction.
Note: for the full suite of measurements from the SoundStage! Audio-Electronics Lab, click here.
The power amplifier is the tough guy of the audio world. A good power amp is quiet, solid, and powerful. There are no moving parts in an amplifier. It does one thing only, and, if it’s a good one, it does that with grace, strength, and purpose. My martial-arts teacher, a quiet, solid, powerful Korean gentleman who’s now in his early 80s, says that while you can’t always tell who is tough by looks alone, it’s pretty damn easy to determine who isn’t tough.
They say it’s best not to meet your heroes, so I thought long and hard about how to approach this review. The Linn Sondek LP12 is arguably the most famous high-end turntable of all time. Its reputation as one of the most engaging and enjoyable high-end vinyl spinners has made it a legend the world over. Back in the late 1980s, when I was just 18 and putting my first system together for university, the LP12 and its archrival, the Michell GyroDec, were the two turntables I coveted most of all. Both were hopelessly beyond the reach of my student budget. So, they joined the Lotus Esprit Turbo and Kate Bush—in a dance leotard, staring wide-eyed at me—on my bedroom wall as examples of the things I most desired in life.
It was somewhere around the fall of 1980. I was 17 years old, and I’d begun to hang around with the Harknesses. We lived in the same neighborhood, attended the same middle school, and shared the same tastes in comic books and music. The Harkness house was a hotbed of culture—the kind of house I’d want my own kid to gravitate toward. Music playing in the living room, a band rehearsing in the basement, art always in progress; I recall concert banners drawn on bedsheets being a hot commodity. It was over-the-top wholesome.
Tastes differ, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, et cetera, et cetera—but there are some constants in every hobby and in every aspect of life. Take cars, for instance, since most of us can coalesce around this subject, and also because I’m too lazy to think of something more subtle.
Note: measurements taken in the anechoic chamber at Canada's National Research Council can be found through this link.
This could be the easiest review I’ve ever written. Or the hardest. This here speaker in my room right now, the DALI Epikore 9, is so closely related to the Epikore 11, which I reviewed back in March 2024, that it’s essentially the same speaker with two fewer woofers.
When was the last time a reviewer trotted out the dollars-per-pound trope? I haven’t used it for at least a decade. I’ve reviewed a lot of large speakers over the last two years—big, room-dominating, expensive, luxurious, endgame speakers. The Estelon XB Mk II. The DALI Epikore 11. The YG Acoustics Peaks Ascent. Most recently, the Bowers & Wilkins 801 D4 Signature.
I think it’s fairly common to associate certain songs—albums even—with specific times in one’s life. Being a just-barely boomer, many of my musical associations involve classic rock from my youth. Things like Pink Floyd’s “Echoes” immediately bring back memories of the sun rising as the acid wears off.
For more than 25 years, the AVID Acutus has been regarded as one of the world’s finest turntables. A brainchild of Conrad Mas, who heads AVID HiFi to this day, the fundamental design of the Acutus has remained largely unchanged since its introduction in 1999: a heavy subchassis and 10kg platter hung from three sprung suspension turrets held in position by elastomeric bands and driven by an AC motor via twin rubber belts. Of course, the Acutus line of turntables and associated power supplies have undergone many refinements over the years.
Streaming is insidious
For years I kept my digital and analog systems completely separate. My big rig in the basement was analog and the smaller system on the main floor was digital only, running off a Squeezebox Touch. The main-floor system saw the most use in our house—it provided the music to our life for Marcia and me. For years she would get up earlier in the morning than I would, and she’d play John Zorn’s Alhambra Love Songs, Brian Eno’s Music for Airports, or The Plateaux of Mirror by Brian Eno and Harold Budd. I’d walk downstairs a half hour later and encounter an accidental renaissance scene. The lights dimmed way down, the gas fireplace casting a warm glow, and Marcia on the couch with the dog, writing in her journal.
Page 1 of 47