I use Tidal mainly because it integrates well with Roon's music-server software. Can Tidal be integrated with the HomePod? It can. Just run the Tidal app on an iPhone or iPad or laptop that's connected to the same wireless network and, via Apple AirPlay, choose the HomePod as the output device. I was able to get both Tidal and Roon to work this way, with one caveat: With services other than Apple Music, Siri can't respond to spoken requests. More important, this experience was at the mercy of my wireless connection, which is not the most robust. My Apple Airport Extreme router is two rooms away, my apartment's interior walls are pre-war thick, and lots of neighbors pollute my space with their wireless EM waves. For this reason, I run a wire to the listening room to feed my server and network-enabled DAC. I wasn't surprised when, a few seconds into "Norwegian Wood," from the Beatles' Rubber Soul, playing from Tidal via Roon—that's some complicated wireless plumbing—the music stuttered and stopped. This would all surely work with a better wireless network, but AirPlay works only with Apple devices—Android users need not apply. (This problem can reportedly be solved with third-party Android apps.)
HomePod speaker tech
With its multi-billion-dollar stash, Apple can afford first-rate facilities, and can invest in the development of custom drivers and hire the best engineers, knowing they'll be able to sell the result in large quantities. If they're serious about designing a very good loudspeaker, they should be able to do it exceedingly well. In researching this review, I learned that Apple has a state-of-the-art anechoic chamber that permits simultaneous measurement of sound at many points in the room, and they used it to develop and voice the HomePod. But is the HomePod a very good loudspeaker?
I wrote earlier that the HomePod is not the simple 4" driver in a box that I've often craved. It does, however, include a 4" driver. Apple calls it a woofer, and says it covers only the lowest frequencies—how low, they don't say. The HomePod also has seven other drivers—identical horn-loaded domes spaced evenly around the HomePod's circumference. Apple calls them tweeters, but they cover the highs and the midrange.
Those tweeters fire inward, toward the HomePod's center. Their output then follows a waveguide/horn, to emerge along the smooth contour of the hard rubber base, parallel to whatever surface the HomePod sits on, thus preventing interference from surface reflections. But because whatever surface the HomePod sits on will keep the music from being directed downward, it seems to me that, ideally, it should be perched atop a narrow column no wider than its base.
Because its 4" woofer fires upward, the HomePod's output has perfect axial symmetry. A microphone monitors its output, and the onboard computer makes tiny adjustments—which sounds to me a lot like servo-controlled bass. That should allow this little bass driver to be driven hard and deep with minimal distortion.
In addition to those eight drivers, the HomePod has seven more transducers, all microphones: one helps control the bass, and six other mikes—with sophisticated cancellation techniques—work to better understand the user's spoken commands when the music is loud. "Hey Siri, turn it up even louder!"
The other six mikes also allow the HomePod to sense and assess its acoustical surroundings, and adjust its output to compensate for sound reflected off nearby walls and corners. Whenever you move the HomePod to a new spot—or even just pick it up and put it down again—a built-in accelerometer detects the movement, then tells the HomePod's brain to recalibrate the next time there's music. This directionality can vary with frequency in broad bands, allowing the HomePod to fine-tune its horizontal dispersion. An advantage of having seven tweeters is that each is driven at a fraction of its maximum output—which, together with DSP, may explain how they can go so low without serious audible distortion.
The HomePod is not, strictly speaking, a monophonic speaker. With stereo recordings, it uses both channels of the signal, comparing phase relationships to differentiate direct sound from ambience, and uses that information to decide which sounds to send in which direction. This adds spaciousness to the sound, and it's a big advantage for recordings that depend on stereo for their impact.
Apple is planning an update later this year that will permit the use of two HomePods as a proper stereo pair. When that happens, I'll write a Follow-Up.
Listening
That Billie Holiday track sounded wonderful through the HomePod—more spacious than you'd expect through a single speaker, but also very clear. Holiday's voice and Lester Young's sax were a little richer and more resonant than I'm used to hearing through my main system. I even wondered if I was listening to a different tenor player. There was, here and elsewhere, a slight tin-can character to the sound. The coloration suited this excellent ca-1949 sound, and recordings of acoustic instruments generally. When I listened to a modern stereo recording through the HomePod and compared it with the sound of my far more expensive two-channel stereo system, my first impression was of congestion. I soon understood that I was hearing spatial information normally not heard at all from a single speaker, but confined to a relatively small space rather than filling the much larger space usually described by the standard two speakers of a stereo pair. It took only minutes for my ear/brain to adapt, effortlessly probing the HomePod's bolus of sound to extract its various elements. After that adjustment, I liked what I heard. Near the beginning of "Packt Like Sardines in a Crushd Tin Box," from Radiohead's Amnesiac (Capitol), there's a descending, synthesized bass line that bottoms out somewhere below 100Hz, then splits into two closely spaced notes. Through the HomePod the pitch became indistinct, the line muddied. That's the only time I heard the HomePod lose its composure. In contrast, Jimmy Garrison's long double-bass solos in "Ascent," from John Coltrane's Sun Ship (Impulse!/Apple Music), were clear and even, slightly closed in, with duller transients than I'm used to—less string pop—but were still musically satisfying. I'm told that Apple Music streams 256kbps AAC, which is less than CD resolution.
Toward the end of the listening period, I put on some test tracks—white noise, bass tones—that corroborated what I'd been hearing with music. The white noise told me that the HomePod's frequency response was quite flat through the midrange and treble, with, I think, some extra energy in the presence region. Though the bass went deep for such a small device, the bass output was shelved down relative to the treble and midrange, beginning to decline above 100Hz but remaining easily audible and musically significant to quite low frequencies: a 30Hz test tone was lower in level than a 40Hz tone, but easy to hear even at fairly low listening levels. Not bad for a little 5.5-lb speaker.
To hear all this from an affordable mass-market device was surprising and refreshing. The HomePod is not the smart-speaker equivalent of, say, Beats headphones, with their midbass bloat. In voicing the HomePod, Apple has made some tasteful and judicious choices. My ears can be fooled, and surely there's some trickery here, but I don't think this is a cynical design. I heard no significant gaps or peaks or disqualifying distortions across the range of audible frequencies.
A Wrapping Up
I feel badly about some of the names I called Siri. She was doing her best, trying to be helpful. But she could be frustrating.
I guess I don't get the point of smart speakers. To me, it seems mostly parlor tricks—impressive in their way, but why bother? Without raising my voice, I can control my music just fine from my chair—just give me a laptop or iPad. I'd rather interact with my music system via a well-designed interface—Roon, for example—or by getting off my butt, putting on a record, wiping off the dust, and lowering the needle.
The HomePod's sound quality—the way it plays music—is remarkable for its size, weight, and price. It's not uncolored, but it avoids hazards common to mass-market portable speakers: tizzy treble, plasticky midrange, and boomy, womp-womp, low-rider bass. The sound is sweetened, but not so much that it sounds bad in music that sweetness doesn't suit.
A single HomePod sounds better than any other wireless speaker I'm familiar with, and any other smart speaker I've experienced (though I have yet to hear the more expensive Sonos Five, and there may be others). A stereo pair of Devialet Phantoms ($5980/pair, plus stands and Dialog router) offered a superior listening experience at more than 17 times the price; I never listened to just one Phantom. Though I've heard only KEF's wired LS50 minimonitor—which is world-class—I'm sure that the LS50 Wireless ($2199.99/pair), sounds much better than the HomePod. I've heard some affordable wireless systems from mainstream speaker makers, but soundwise, I prefer the HomePod. I'm eager to hear two HomePods configured as a true stereo pair—that could be a giant-killer.
Odd as this little speaker seems, with its seven inward-firing dome tweeter-midranges, its 4" upward-firing woofer, its seven microphones, and its extensive use of DSP, my ears tell me that it's a piece of serious engineering. Soundwise, at $349, it's an easy recommendation for anyone looking for an affordable wireless speaker, especially those with Apple-centric lifestyles.
With its multi-billion-dollar stash, Apple can afford first-rate facilities, and can invest in the development of custom drivers and hire the best engineers, knowing they'll be able to sell the result in large quantities. If they're serious about designing a very good loudspeaker, they should be able to do it exceedingly well. In researching this review, I learned that Apple has a state-of-the-art anechoic chamber that permits simultaneous measurement of sound at many points in the room, and they used it to develop and voice the HomePod. But is the HomePod a very good loudspeaker?
I wrote earlier that the HomePod is not the simple 4" driver in a box that I've often craved. It does, however, include a 4" driver. Apple calls it a woofer, and says it covers only the lowest frequencies—how low, they don't say. The HomePod also has seven other drivers—identical horn-loaded domes spaced evenly around the HomePod's circumference. Apple calls them tweeters, but they cover the highs and the midrange.
That Billie Holiday track sounded wonderful through the HomePod—more spacious than you'd expect through a single speaker, but also very clear. Holiday's voice and Lester Young's sax were a little richer and more resonant than I'm used to hearing through my main system. I even wondered if I was listening to a different tenor player. There was, here and elsewhere, a slight tin-can character to the sound. The coloration suited this excellent ca-1949 sound, and recordings of acoustic instruments generally. When I listened to a modern stereo recording through the HomePod and compared it with the sound of my far more expensive two-channel stereo system, my first impression was of congestion. I soon understood that I was hearing spatial information normally not heard at all from a single speaker, but confined to a relatively small space rather than filling the much larger space usually described by the standard two speakers of a stereo pair. It took only minutes for my ear/brain to adapt, effortlessly probing the HomePod's bolus of sound to extract its various elements. After that adjustment, I liked what I heard. Near the beginning of "Packt Like Sardines in a Crushd Tin Box," from Radiohead's Amnesiac (Capitol), there's a descending, synthesized bass line that bottoms out somewhere below 100Hz, then splits into two closely spaced notes. Through the HomePod the pitch became indistinct, the line muddied. That's the only time I heard the HomePod lose its composure. In contrast, Jimmy Garrison's long double-bass solos in "Ascent," from John Coltrane's Sun Ship (Impulse!/Apple Music), were clear and even, slightly closed in, with duller transients than I'm used to—less string pop—but were still musically satisfying. I'm told that Apple Music streams 256kbps AAC, which is less than CD resolution.
I feel badly about some of the names I called Siri. She was doing her best, trying to be helpful. But she could be frustrating.
