Integrated Amp Reviews

The Internet of Things has arrived at the stereo rack. Many hi-fi systems are now connected to the wider world, controlled by phones and tablets. Complex front panels with many switches and buttons have practically vanished; those still around are retro pieces or style statements. Little front-panel touchscreens with complex menu trees have been rendered vestigial or at least redundant. Designers of receivers, integrated amplifiers, and DACs must now at least consider incorporating a streaming module and a device-control app. In certain component categories and certain price brackets, a built-in app-controlled streamer is now a key part of the value proposition, much as a tuner was back in the days of terrestrial radio.

The Hegel H400 combines the functions of an integrated amplifier, DAC, and streamer.

In 1989, I bought my second pair of Rogers LS3/5a's from a guy on Staten Island who had them hooked up to a Musical Fidelity A1 integrated amplifier. After playing the speakers for me, he began removing his zip-cord speaker cables and paused to show me how, at the amplifier end, his red-plastic Pomona Electronics banana plugs had partially melted from the A1's heat. We both laughed.

After it first appeared in 1985, the A1 quickly became famous for its hot top plate. The top plate got as hot as it did because it was used as a heatsink for the output transistors, which were biased highly into class-A. The A1's hot top made tabloid headlines, but for me it was its bold, sinewy, un-transistory sound and timeless, sharply drawn styling that distinguished it from cooler running Brit-fi competitors such as Audiolab's 8000A, Creek's 4040, A&R Cambridge's A60, and NAD's 3020.

Now it's back, priced at $1779, looking and feeling cooler than before.

"Hybrid" technology—specifically, mixing tubed and solid state in the same amplification device—stirs a deep desire for many enthusiasts. It has the potential to embody a perfect blend: the tonal liquidity, presence, and spaciousness of tubes coupled with the power and dependability of solid state. It's potentially an end-game technology.

Still, I have long remained skeptical. I am, I confess, a certain kind of audiophile, a blend of purist and traditionalist. I favor older technologies and simpler circuits. Amplifiers—including integrated amplifiers—should be tubed, input to output. Rectification? Tubes of course. I've even entertained OTL designs—the idea of them at least, though my experiences have been mixed.

For 16 years, I bled jazz. Countless hours alone in my practice shed, honing technique, recording myself for brutal self-analysis, dissecting and transcribing master drummers' solos note for note. My dream was to transcend technique, to exist in a state of pure reaction among musicians in perfect communion, where improvisation flows as effortlessly as thought.

The years melted away—George Lawrence Stone's sticking variations, Benjamin Podemski's concert drum solos, dog-eared "Real Book" charts, college big band concerts, smoky jam sessions, a basement practice routine that nearly deafened Mom. Once I was in NYC, there were classes at Drummer's Collective.

With intense application, playing became rote. But in rare moments of surrender, it wasn't me playing the music anymore. The music played me—ideas transmitted effortlessly, without thought, guided by some unseen force: maybe the woman in the third row, maybe the ghost of Tony Williams. In such moments, when fatigue stilled the mind, instrument and music intertwined, a single entity responding not to conscious thought but to some unknown, unknowable force. What ensued was beyond my mental reach.

Life is not for Goldilocks. "Just right" is elusive. Every day, we face countless situations where our choices are either too many to navigate or too few to find satisfaction. Behavioral scientists call those dissatisfying alternatives "choice overload" and "choice deprivation," respectively.

I think choice overload may scare some audiophiles away from the glorious world of streaming, where the bulk and finite scope of a physical music-media collection can be traded for (or augmented by) many more listening choices. If you're willing to explore and choose, you can hear as deep and wide as most musical rabbit holes are likely to go, and then return to your favorite songs with a couple of finger-pecks on your phone.

For some people, all that choice is intimidating, paralyzing, overwhelming, highly stressful. That's no way to enjoy music! I sympathize. I'm not ready to leave physical media behind. But I am very happy in the streaming present. In fact, I urge the hesitant: Cast aside your fears and trepidations, sign up for a free month of Qobuz, Spotify, Tidal, Apple Music, you decide—then take it slow. At first, avoid browsing—just search for the music you want to hear. Try something new each day. Over time, you'll adjust to the overwhelming abundance. By the end of the month, especially with a full-resolution service like Qobuz, Tidal, or Apple Music+HD, you may not want to give it up. The future-present beckons loudly.

Six years after Hans-Ole Vitus, the founder of Danish company Vitus Audio, visited the United States to premier his first three products at CES 2004, Michael Fremer went gaga over the company's top-line MP-P201 Masterpiece Series phono preamplifier. Thirteen years later, at AXPONA 2023, it was my turn to be blown away, this time by the sound of a $385,000 Vitus Audio top-of-the-line Masterpiece series front-end and amplifiers that sang through price-commensurate Estelon Extreme Mk II loudspeakers.

In between—and not for want of trying—Vitus's presence in these pages has been limited to show reports. It's time to change that.

It may be strange to read what I'm about to say in the pages of Stereophile, but it's the cold hard truth so here goes: Audio reviews are inadequate. They don't tell the whole story. They come up short and can even misdirect.

It's not their fault, or at least sometimes it isn't. Even the good ones can't tell you how something will sound to you—let alone make you feel, the ultimate point—in your own room. As helpful as they may be, they can't address the elephant in the listening room: synergy.

In reviewing the Octave Audio V 70 Class A integrated amplifier ($12,000 and up; $15,900 as reviewed), I was reminded of the importance of synergy in our hobby.