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| January 1, 2008 Ultra Sounds: When a Reference CD is Not When does it make sense to trade in an old recording for a new remastering of supposedly higher quality? Advertisements may lead you to believe that every remastered recording is better than its original. There must be a reason for buying something you already own, right? A few years ago, I traded in all my Peter Gabriel CDs for the remastered versions. A huge fan of Gabriel, I believed that these new versions would transform the music I loved, revealing hitherto hidden details that would add emotional weight to my experience. Surely, I thought, the dynamic buildup of drums in "Rhythm of the Heat" would possess greater impact and bone-chilling snap, and the slight brightness evident throughout So would be replaced with a smoother, suppler finish. My high expectations were soon brought down to earth. To my ear, the remasterings lacked the immediacy and raw emotional power of the originals. The unprocessed edge that defined Gabriel’s 1 and 2 was replaced with a sterile, overly smooth sound that lacked energy, while the distinct vocals of one of rock’s master singers lacked its gravelly texture and soulfulness. Was I missing something? Maybe my system wasn’t up to the challenge of releasing the magic of these new discs. Maybe I had a tin ear. But after weeks of listening through several setups, including headphones and my car system, I realized that, despite some flaws, the original versions really did sound better than the homogeneous sound of the remasterings. I’ve come to find that rock recordings benefit less from remastering than do jazz and classical recordings. For one thing, rock music usually has a more restricted dynamic range. Watch the audio waveform of a typical rock song and you’ll notice that the peaks and valleys are pretty consistent. While the thrash of an electric guitar or drum solo may cause a blip in the dynamic waveform, it doesn’t present the type of range you hear from the swell of an orchestra’s strings and horns, or the blat of a well-played sax. Rock music is also generally a victim of poor production values. Forget multiple run-throughs with well-placed microphones -- most rock bands start off in a garage, in possession of inspired musical chops but little knowledge of audio engineering or acoustics. For many bands of the 1960s and ’70s, it took an act of God to get in with a good producer and studio. Now the Internet and readily available mixing software make the process a bit easier, but the goal of most rock artists is still to get their music and lyrics recorded -- whatever it takes. This lack of preparation usually resulted in a poor original master of what may be the only recording of a great song. And, as is often the case, songs born of passion and genius are often hard to duplicate. The older recordings of Hendrix, Zappa, even Louis Armstrong, have all been remastered countless times. Are they better? You could argue that the hiss, wow, and flutter of old tapes, and the pops and clicks of vinyl, can add to the experience of a song. You also have to ask yourself whether you started listening to Hendrix because of the sound quality or because his music got under your skin. I started listening to Gabriel after I heard "San Jacinto" for the first time. I was drawn in not by the sound quality, but by the musical qualities of the song and the depth of Gabriel’s wonderful vocals. Which begs the questions: When does the good or bad sound quality of a recording present a diminishing return? And when does the remastering of a song rob the original recording of its intrinsic emotion? While remastering can reveal details that can add to the experience, heavy-handed noise reduction and processing can rob a recording’s soul.
MoFi’s treatment of the Pixies’ hard rock is smooth and easy to listen to. Unlike my experience with the Peter Gabriel remasterings, the smoothness doesn’t take away from the experience. Guitars still screech, drums have nice weight and punch, and voices come through with no odd processing artifacts. MoFi has also done a nice job of extracting the ambient information on Surfer Rosa. The voices, such as those floating around the room in "Gigantic," send chills up my spine -- not because of some psychoacoustic trick, but because they sound real. Coupled with the great soundstage placement, the openness of the vocals and instrument placement made headphone listening a treat. If you’re a fan of the Pixies, you’ll want to go out and pick up MoFi’s Surfer Rosa. I’m sure you’ll be pleasantly surprised at the improvement. Though remastering failed with Peter Gabriel, in this case it definitely made sense and is worth the higher price. ...Anthony Di Marco
Ultra Audio is part of the SoundStage! Network. |
The Pixies may not have the historical
weight or virtuosity of Hendrix or Gabriel, but they certainly made their mark in rock
with a unique, aggressive sound and lyrics. Their first studio effort, Surfer Rosa,
is an example of how remastering can benefit a rock recording. Compared to the original
release, the overall sound of Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab’s remastering is crisper and
more fleshed-out. Lead singer Black Francis and backing singer Kim Deal have no trouble
separating themselves from the loud, uncompromising guitars and energetic drums. By
comparison, the original recording sounds cloudy and unfocused. The opening bass line on
the remastered "Gigantic" is natural and full, while Deal’s elegant yet
fiery vocals take their time weaving their way through the music. Over headphones, this
track has a nicely spaced soundstage and punchy, articulate bass. Over loudspeakers I can
still hear some dynamic compression, but most of the time it isn’t intrusive. This
recording is meant to be played at ear-rattling levels, therefore the sound is compressed
a bit so the loudest peak is controlled. This way, there’s little chance of an audio
system clipping on a peak, even at extremely high volumes.