Headphone Reviews

M.I.A.'s mashup of global influences, styles, and rhythms came together on her debut Arular (CD, Interscope/XL Recordings B0004844-02), which sprung to life in 2005 full of flavor and color. I cued up "Sunshowers," a single released ahead of this studio album, which was derived from "Sunshower" by Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band, cofounded by Kid Creole. A distant, high-pitched hand drum precedes the vocals. Driven by the LTA, the LCD-5 provided a tactile rendering of that drum's skin, its sense of boingy bounce and its timbral variations. As the catchy, punchy tune bubbles over into the song's quirky chorus, idiosyncratic pulses and pops punctuate the accents and syncopated rhythms. The low, dubby backbeat bass sounded generous, clean, and present, topped off by the buzzy fizz of M.I.A.'s Roland MC-505 sequencer/drum machine.

Atypical time signatures and blends of styles from free jazz to twangy country turn up on Horse Lords' "Mess Mend" from Comradely Objects (24/96 WAV download, RVNG Intl. RVNGNL95). There's a lot to sort through on this track, but sorting through is the LCD-5's forte; it rendered this mélange of instruments into clear individual images.

For a sample of traditional audiophile fare, I cued up a headphone mix of David Chesky's The Excommunication Mass (24/48 WAV download, The Audiophile Society). On "Gabriel 8 'Hallelujah'," the LCD-5's spatial presentation—its rendition of the positions of the choir's various sections and soloists (left, right, blended), with the instruments farther away—made this an immersive experience. Hints of height were rendered along with a clear sense of the acoustics of the recording space.

Live recordings sounded live; well-made studio recordings sounded alive, with sufficient energy and detail to seem real. Take Revelators (EP, 37d03d–030) from Revelators Sound System, a collaboration led by M.C. Taylor (Hiss Golden Messenger) and Cameron Ralston (Glows in the Dark; the Spacebomb House Band). This EP showed how the LCD-5's handle air and space around instruments on a soundstage occupied by a slew of them. Spacey, soulful free jazz, looping guitars, and rich textures and rhythms fill four instrumental tracks. On the meandering "Grieving," J.C. Kuhl's breath against the reed at the end of his saxophone intro was in-your-face intense. As the pace picked up, subtle dynamic variations built tension. Light taps on a cowbell (or possibly an agogo) were clean on the attack. Each layer of this track occupied its own space inside and around my head, making it effortless to slide into its mellow groove.

The pianissimo intro on "Bury the Bell," then the clear-as-a-bell swells from what sounded like a clarinet (possibly with added effects) ahead of the track's 2:00 mark sounded smooth and hypnotic, powered by the LTA. The Brooklyn Bridge made it easier to identify the instrument as a clarinet. The piano sounded natural and neutral regardless of which amplifier was used.

A highlight: At one point early in this track, I felt as though the sound I was hearing wasn't from the 'phones at all but from the room beyond the headphones—my room. I moved one of the ear cups aside just to be sure. The sound was coming from the headphones of course, and not the room, but the illusion was convincing.

The Heartless Bastards' "Only for You," from the album Arrow (CD, Partisan Records PTKF2101CD), delivered an audiophile cliché: hearing a longtime familiar track as if for the first time. On this track, Erika Wennerstrom explores her rich, earthy voice's range in a gutsy, heartfelt performance. Via the LCD-5, the production came through as at once raw and refined, in equal measure, kicking off solidly with lone snare beats that sounded real in scale, timbre, and time. Heavy, bluesy guitar grooves spiraled into solos. Crisp drums wound down to a bookend conclusion. I played it again just for fun.

Franz Ferdinand's self-titled debut (CD, Domino Recording Co Ltd EK 92441) was a blast to revisit. Maybe I was inspired by having caught one of their live shows recently. All manner of PRaT stood out on this raucous romp of punk-infused, danceable art rock, recorded very loud. Not a problem though: This music is made for turning it up.

On the introduction to "This Fire," the ride cymbal sounded ridiculously clean and close-up. Most tracks took on added, fiery intensity. This stacked mix can feel packed in—compressed, spatially and otherwise—but the LCD-5 served it well, giving the music room to breathe. The album's rapid-fire tight, driving energy came alive in and around my ears. "Auf Achse" revives a kind of mournful, New Romantic spirit, with organlike riffs backed by a dancey bassline. The weird, theremin-like sound (probably a Moog) came through more distinctly than it usually does.

I took listening to the LCD-5 as an opportunity to compare an original and reissue LP release. I reached for Nina Simone's Pastel Blues (LP, Philips PHS 600-187), my old copy first. Then I listened to the 2020 Analogue Productions reissue (Verve PHS 600-187/B0032266-01), remastered from the original tapes, which my father gave me. The newer, heavier (180gm) vinyl was noticeably smoother, with, as expected, quieter backgrounds. The absence of distracting noise smoothed my mood and allowed me to soak in Simone's unique timbre and appreciate the microdynamics the LCD-5 conveyed. I heard subtle vocal nuances, including her softly fraying vibrato, with great clarity. The edges seemed slightly smoother and cleaner than on the old LP, but the raw glory of Simone's original performance and her close-up delivery was retained. Her finger snaps, on her rendition of Billie Holiday's "Tell Me More and More and Then Some," were tactile, physical. When she approached the end of her breath at the end of certain lines, I found myself holding mine in anticipation.

Finally, I transported the LCD-5 in its case to the local radio station for my weekly show. My voice on mike sounded crystal clear, far more immediate and detailed than I was accustomed to. My direction and distance from the mike registered more precisely. I seldom script my shows, aside from a few notes, and what I was hearing was so eye-opening—ear-opening—that it almost threw me off my game. Instead, I stayed focused, and the LCD-5 upped my game, attracting my attention to my breathing and leading me to enunciate better. The LCD-5 made me vigilant and probably improved my on-air performance.

Conclusion
A headphone that helps get the music out of your head may seem ironic, but it's a good thing when it happens. The word immersive comes to mind: The Audeze LCD-5 delivered a different kind of immersive listening experience, without any special Dolby Atmos tricks. These are headphones, sure, but (assuming the recording allows for it) they're capable of delivering an experience that's less headphone-like, roughly approximating the experience of loudspeakers—all over the room, not limited to two. Their sound is detailed and insightful but never aggressive, nonfatiguing, and always enjoyable.

As Audeze's flagship headphone, the LCD-5 is pricey, but you can expect it to last for years, through several changes of its special ear cups. Its handling of microdynamics and detail makes it suitable for use not just at home but also in the studio. It fosters a keener awareness of and appreciation for differences in production, across a broad array of styles and eras. It stoked my curiosity, urging me to dig deeper into my collection: What hidden elements might be unearthed?

You don't have to be an audio pro to appreciate what a headphone like the LCD-5 reveals. It allowed me to examine music forensically, to get into the guts of it, all its pieces and parts, pretty or not, but always intriguing. That I did so, always, with pleasure, shows that analytical listening and listening for pleasure need not be mutually exclusive