Phono Preamp Reviews

The quest for vinyl quiet seems, at best, quixotic. By "vinyl quiet" I don't mean "quiet vinyl," which we now reliably get from pressing plants like QRP, RTI, Pallas, and a few others. I'm referring to makes of phono preamplifiers who set as a primary design goal electronic "quiet," ie, an absence or minimum of electronic noise. A stylus coursing through the groove of even the quietest LP still produces a considerable amount of noise.

I'd been building and repairing tube amplifiers for a few years when my first Altec A5 Voice of the Theater speakers arrived. I bought them to help me evaluate the sound of low-powered triode amps—but whoa! The moment I turned that VOT system on, I heard from 30' away the sound of either a waterfall or a large AM radio tuned between stations . . . What's the best tube tester? A 107dB/watt speaker!

On analogplanet.com you'll find coverage of my visit in November 2013 to the 10th annual Manila Hi-Fi Show, which took place the weekend of the devastating typhoon Haiyan (Filipinos call it Yolanda). Because the people I met there are such big Stereophile fans, I wanted to be sure to give them a shout-out in this column, too.

Despite the weather, which prevented audiophiles living on other islands of the archipelago from flying in for the event, at least 2000 managed to attend. These are passionate, enthusiastic audiophiles—and the high proportion of young people, particularly among the vinyl buyers, was encouraging.

The greeting I received throughout the show was beyond my most vivid egomaniacal daydreams. I was treated so well that I don't know how to express my gratitude, other than to just say "Thanks"—and get back to work.

One of my favorite things about this pastime is the modesty of its aims. Despite the sometimes-astronomical sums spent on gear, and the small handful of drama queens who populate various corners of this hobby, all we're doing is trying to enjoy recorded music at home. No one here is reversing planetary warming or solving the Riemann hypothesis. The sole purpose of the pursuit we write about in these pages is to please, enlighten, and entertain. I like that about it.

This means that aesthetics matter. During a recent trip to Japan, I found myself marveling at the many vintage audio components used in both public listening spaces and people's homes, and the high prices these meticulously restored devices command. I found many of them lovely, the patina of age only adding to their allure. In the West, where we believe in eternal progress, it's common to ask whether these components' performance is up to contemporary standards. "Sure, it looks cool, but how does it sound?" we might ask, as though the physical beauty of the gear is a distraction or, worse, a ploy. Recall the old audiophile joke about the initials of the design-forward Danish manufacturer Bang & Olufsen standing for "beauty only."

In my January 2014 column, I reviewed HiFiction's Thales TTT-Compact turntable and Simplicity tangential-tracking pivoted tonearm, an intriguing combo from Micha Huber, a talented Swiss watchmaker turned turntable designer.

The TTT-Compact's particulars, including its battery-powered motor and exceptional ease of setup, are described in detail in that review, which includes a link to a useful animation that shows how the design, as Huber says, "reduces the perfectly tangential tracking to pivot points, while the pick-up cartridge is taken and aligned on the Thales' Circle."

Suffice it to say that while the HiFiction tonearm is named Simplicity, its design is anything but.

"Give me the seduction, give me the pleasure," Ron Sutherland was nearly shouting into the phone. "I want to turn off the analytical mind and just enjoy myself!"

Sutherland speaks in the chipper Midwestern cadences of a comic character actor from the 1940s, sort of like a grown-up Eddie Bracken from The Miracle of Morgan's Creek, and I'd never heard him sound so excited. He was talking about his new phono stage, the Dos Locos, the first product he's designed collaboratively, having enlisted a group of audiophile friends who listened to and critiqued each iteration. "These friends are excellent listeners," Sutherland related, "whereas I'm a gearhead, and don't have the patience or discernment for that kind of listening. Sometimes I'd change something and they'd say, 'You made it worse!'" It sounded like he preferred the group dynamic. "There was something very intimate about this back-and-forth process," he told me. "And compared to working alone, it was a lot more fun!"

At the 2011 Consumer Electronics Show, Herman van den Dungen handed me a surprise: a brand new Kiseki Blue cartridge manufactured from new-old-stock parts. It wasn't mine to take home—only to look at, to prove it was real.

Herman van den Dungen may not be a household name even for audiophiles, but his products are: his PrimaLuna electronics are exported from the Netherlands to the US and distributed by tube connoisseur and collector Kevin Deal for PrimaLuna USA.

In the 1980s, Kiseki was legendary among audiophiles, even if their cartridges' prices were beyond the reach of most. But the brand's history is less well known—and younger analog devotees may not have heard of Kiseki at all.