That first evening of listening was a mixed bag. The sheer tactile immediacy and startling clarity of the solo tenor saxes on Sonny Rollins and Coleman Hawkins' Sonny Meets Hawk! (LP, RCA/Classic Records LSP-2712) were almost without precedent in my home. But there was very little bass, and musical involvement was compromised by a lack of coherence: Those remarkable sounds weren't jelling into a comprehensible whole. We've all heard, at one time or another, the effect where reproduced music sounds uncannily convincing from just outside the room where the system is playing (something I associate with old Quad ESLs in particular)—yet when I stepped into the next room, I experienced the opposite effect: I could hear the instruments, but it took a couple of seconds for me to tell what piece of music was playing. (It turned out to be "All the Things You Are.") I chalked it up to the need for additional running-in, of course.
The next morning I resumed listening: I spent several hours running-in the speakers with my CD player on repeat, noting as I did an enduringly lean tonal balance. By the?end of the day, I had the Klipschorns nearer to the corners behind them, which yielded a bit more bass extension and tonal richness, and I toed the speakers in a bit more. Guitarist David Grier's Ways of the World (CD, Dreadnought Recordings 1801) was more musically convincing than I'd expected given the previous evening's listening, and the sound of his acoustic guitar had more body than it had earlier in the day—yet the very good sense of touch I heard from the start was still in place: I know what Grier's playing sounds like live and unamplified, and that was the sound I heard from the Klipsches, tactile and immediate. Yet, by the end of the day, larger-scale music remained unconvincing through the new speakers—Bruckner's 8th, performed by Eugen Jochum and the Berlin Philharmonic (LP, Deutsche Grammophon 138 918/19), sounded tonally skewed in a hollow sort of way and simply did not hold my attention. And deep bass was still AWOL. This, too, I attributed to the need for additional running-in—that and the need for some fine-tuning of toe-in. I was partly right.
During the next couple of weeks, I found much to admire in the performance of the Klipschorns, which reproduced vocals with exceptional clarity and lack of coloration, and whose stereo imaging and soundstaging capabilities were shockingly good for such wide loudspeakers. Still, in light of the lack of bass, I wondered if the Shindo Haut-Brion, whose output transformers have only single, 16-ohm secondary windings, might be a suboptimal match. That proved true when I replaced the Haut with the Air Tight ATM-300R ($16,995), which uses a single 300B triode per side—and just a touch? of feedback—to produce 8Wpc.
With the Klipsches connected to the Air Tight amp's low-impedance outputs, I turned to the superb recording of the Sibelius Symphony No.7 by Lorin Maazel and the Vienna Philharmonic (LP, Decca SXL 6236)—which I had listened to earlier in the day—and heard a welcome increase in the heft of the double basses and cellos, and a slight increase in the weight and force of? timpani. When the symphony's predominant theme first emerged, the double-bass notes underneath it had decent power and tautness, and the music's many subtle dynamic transitions came across believably and with good drama: I couldn't help? thinking that the sounds from the Klipschorn's drivers were beginning to jell. But with the Air Tight amp I heard grainy trebles during a couple of orchestral peaks.
I tried an old recording of the Beethoven Op.127 string quartet that's become my recent favorite—by the Amadeus Quartet (LP, Deutsche Grammophon 138 897)—and was very satisfied. Here, too, the lower notes had the heft that was missing when driving the AK6s with my Shindo. Although the images of the four players were notably large, I didn't think they were too large—and in every way, the spatial relationships between the players sounded perfect; the sound overall was somewhat more distant than that of my generally forward-sounding Altec Valencias—another old design, long gone from the marketplace. The Klipsches did not skimp on string texture, and I noted that an iota more would have been too much—but the sound was pleasantly convincing, and the flow with which the Klipsches played some of Beethoven's best melodies was a joy.
Incidentally, while listening to that and other recordings, I tried increasing the Klipsches' toe-in to a point where their axes crossed in front of my listening seat—after all, it seems to me that that's how many pre-AK6 installations would have been heard, given the inability to lessen the drastic angle forced on the listener by strict corner placement—but disliked it in every way: The results were spatially confused and tonally bright, and the speakers sounded gritty on passages that sounded perfectly smooth when the cabinets were toed-in only gently. No, no, and no.
Finally, during what turned out to be my last week with the Klipschorn AK6s, I tried driving them with the least expensive power amp I have in-house: the Luxman MQ-88uC ($5995), a permanent addition to the Luxman line that's virtually identical to the limited-edition MQ-88uSE that I wrote about in the September 2017 Stereophile. The MQ-88uC uses push-pull pairs of KT88 pentode tubes, operated with some global feedback, to deliver 25Wpc in class-AB mode. More than the other two amps I tried, the Luxman made the Klipsch's bass range come alive, especially when enjoyed from its 8-ohm outputs.
Just prior to trying the Luxman amp on the Klipschorn AK6s, I reinstalled the Shindo Haut-Brion amp, put on Roxy Music's Avalon (SACD/CD, Virgin 7243 5 83871 2 4), and listened, disappointed at the bass-less sound. Then I swapped in the Luxman MQ-88uC, let it warm up for 15 minutes, played the track "Take a Chance with Me," and was stunned at the difference. With the Luxman driving them, the Klipschorns played notes that were literally inaudible with the Shindo, and that were not delivered in full measure with the Air Tight ATM-300R. The music had sonic snap and presence and near-hypnotic musical flow—with this album, guitarists Neil Hubbard and the great Phil Manzanera had perfected their tight, spare tag-team style—and now the kickdrum, floor tom, and electric bass had real depth and power, if not quite the last word in tightly controlled note decays.
Joanna Newsom's beautiful "You Will Not Take My Heart Alive," from Divers (LP, Drag City DC561), was especially well-served by this combination. Her voice, like the violins in the Beethoven quartet described above, was generously but not excessively textured, its uniquenesses preserved but not exaggerated. There was good momentum in the chording from the electric piano, although I noticed that some notes in that instrument's lowest register had a bit of overhang. And in the progression of different keyboard sounds that repeat the song's closing cadence, there was one in which some notes were completely inaudible, perhaps owing to cancellations of upper bass/lower midrange tones.
I also turned to the recording by Georg Solti, the Vienna Philharmonic, Kirsten Flagstad, et al, of Wagner's Das Rheingold (3 LPs, London OSA 1309). It was a Saturday morning, and the Klipschorn's generally excellent way with this music—no speaker in my home has better put across the color, texture, and tension in the sound of the cellos and double basses under Solti—compelled me to once again listen to the whole thing through. With the Luxman amp, there was sufficient bass power to make the giants sound menacing, from the first act to the last: The bass drum that signals the death of Fasolt (sorry if that's a spoiler) had excellent impact and very good depth, albeit a bit of overhang, and for whatever reason, the sounds of the performers' footsteps on the stage were much more prominent than through other speakers. Interestingly, I found it possible to listen to this recording on the AK6s from way off axis and still fully enjoy its many spatial thrills. A great experience all around.
Conclusions
At my old house in Cherry Valley, small birds made their nests in the quince trees outside my window. I know because I cut down five of the trees before the snow came, to clear the way for a new chimney, but I didn't see the nests until it was too late. I felt miserable and changed my plans as much as I could in order to save two other trees—each of which, I saw after the fall, contained a nest of its own. It seems I can't make a change for the better without also changing something for the worse: Every gain entails a concomitant loss. Not to be too Zen about it.
In the years since the Klipschorn's debut, loudspeaker technology has progressed in many ways. Speakers that sound timbrally neutral and uncolored are much more common today, as are speakers with consistent and effective dispersion across their operating range. Thanks to the pioneering work of people like Jon Dahlquist, Jim Thiel, Richard Vandersteen, and John Fuselier (footnote 2), physical time alignment of drivers in a dynamic loudspeaker system is virtually a given these days, and the problem of baffle edge diffraction has been identified and smacked upside the head. The result is a great selection of loudspeakers that offer apparently flat frequency response, superb stereo imaging, and great airiness and transparency.
And what did we give up to gain such easy access to all those things? Natural-sounding dynamics. Impact. Pluck. Snap. Body—especially body. And soul.
This review was motivated as much by personal interest as my desire for a paycheck: I turned to the Klipschorn to see if I could find those qualities in a true classic speaker that I've never before had the chance to live with. I've found dynamics in various contemporary horns, such as the Auditorium 23 Cinemas and Volti Vittoras, and even more so in any number of vintage horn-loaded speakers, including my own Altec Flamencos. I've found soul in Quad ESLs and LS3/5a's and various incarnations of the Western Electric/Altec 755 full-range driver. I've found enjoyable combinations of all those qualities—compromises, to be sure, but good, smart ones—in the DeVore O/93s and O/96s.
The 2019 Klipschorn also offers its own combination of those qualities, one that delights and surprises in some respects (uncolored vocals, surprisingly good spatial performance, much better senses of touch and impact than the average loudspeaker) while disappointing in others (less than the tightest bottom octaves, a trace of grain under strain). Listeners with a taste for vintage-style impact and immediacy who also enjoy good stereo imaging and soundstage depth will quite likely love the AK6. Those who are looking for the ungodly-real midrange of a horn-loaded Western Electric 555 compression driver or the snappy way that kick drums sound through an Altec Valencia or other speaker with that company's 416-Z woofer must look elsewhere—although the latter group should be advised that the Klipsch also comes without the upper-midrange glare of the Altec 811 horn: more tradeoffs . . .
And my time with the Klipsches was a sobering reminder: Amplifiers and loudspeakers—especially low-power amplifiers and ostensibly easy-to-drive speakers—require careful matching. If the output characteristics of the former don't suit the impedance characteristics of the latter, it doesn't matter if both components offer Class A performance under optimal conditions: The sound won't get off the ground. (I shudder to think how many great products have been poorly reviewed by gurus who condemned them merely for not performing well with their references.) It's tempting to think that very sensitive speakers in general, and horns in particular, will sound great with virtually any low-power tube amp—but it just ain't so.
I found in the Klipschorn AK6 an imperfect loudspeaker that satisfied many of my long-standing longings and a couple I didn't know I had—for amazing sound way off-axis, and for big, beautiful pieces of old-school audio art in my listening room. The AK6 also seems to offer exceptional value: for the technology, woodworking, and sheer size it offers, $14,998 for a pair of these is a steal. No one with a taste for realistic playback, and especially no one with a taste for low-power amps and high-sensitivity speakers, should miss a chance to hear these.
Footnote 2: John Fuselier passed away in 2018—see https://audiokarma.org/forums/index.php?threads/rest-in-peace-john-fuselier-speaker-designer-engineer-all-around-good-guy.836506/. John Bau's Spica loudspeakers were also time-optimized.—John Atkinson.
With the Klipsches connected to the Air Tight amp's low-impedance outputs, I turned to the superb recording of the Sibelius Symphony No.7 by Lorin Maazel and the Vienna Philharmonic (LP, Decca SXL 6236)—which I had listened to earlier in the day—and heard a welcome increase in the heft of the double basses and cellos, and a slight increase in the weight and force of? timpani. When the symphony's predominant theme first emerged, the double-bass notes underneath it had decent power and tautness, and the music's many subtle dynamic transitions came across believably and with good drama: I couldn't help? thinking that the sounds from the Klipschorn's drivers were beginning to jell. But with the Air Tight amp I heard grainy trebles during a couple of orchestral peaks.
I tried an old recording of the Beethoven Op.127 string quartet that's become my recent favorite—by the Amadeus Quartet (LP, Deutsche Grammophon 138 897)—and was very satisfied. Here, too, the lower notes had the heft that was missing when driving the AK6s with my Shindo. Although the images of the four players were notably large, I didn't think they were too large—and in every way, the spatial relationships between the players sounded perfect; the sound overall was somewhat more distant than that of my generally forward-sounding Altec Valencias—another old design, long gone from the marketplace. The Klipsches did not skimp on string texture, and I noted that an iota more would have been too much—but the sound was pleasantly convincing, and the flow with which the Klipsches played some of Beethoven's best melodies was a joy.
Incidentally, while listening to that and other recordings, I tried increasing the Klipsches' toe-in to a point where their axes crossed in front of my listening seat—after all, it seems to me that that's how many pre-AK6 installations would have been heard, given the inability to lessen the drastic angle forced on the listener by strict corner placement—but disliked it in every way: The results were spatially confused and tonally bright, and the speakers sounded gritty on passages that sounded perfectly smooth when the cabinets were toed-in only gently. No, no, and no.
Joanna Newsom's beautiful "You Will Not Take My Heart Alive," from Divers (LP, Drag City DC561), was especially well-served by this combination. Her voice, like the violins in the Beethoven quartet described above, was generously but not excessively textured, its uniquenesses preserved but not exaggerated. There was good momentum in the chording from the electric piano, although I noticed that some notes in that instrument's lowest register had a bit of overhang. And in the progression of different keyboard sounds that repeat the song's closing cadence, there was one in which some notes were completely inaudible, perhaps owing to cancellations of upper bass/lower midrange tones.
At my old house in Cherry Valley, small birds made their nests in the quince trees outside my window. I know because I cut down five of the trees before the snow came, to clear the way for a new chimney, but I didn't see the nests until it was too late. I felt miserable and changed my plans as much as I could in order to save two other trees—each of which, I saw after the fall, contained a nest of its own. It seems I can't make a change for the better without also changing something for the worse: Every gain entails a concomitant loss. Not to be too Zen about it.
Footnote 2: John Fuselier passed away in 2018—see https://audiokarma.org/forums/index.php?threads/rest-in-peace-john-fuselier-speaker-designer-engineer-all-around-good-guy.836506/. John Bau's Spica loudspeakers were also time-optimized.—John Atkinson.
