Exasperated, I tried for a while not to think about audio reviewing. I played one record after another, doing my best not to analyze, but just enjoy. But every record made me tense and unsettled, so before it finished I'd take it off and put on another, hoping it might be more satisfying. One recording did stand out and play quite well: Kander and Ebb's "You're My Thrill," from the soundtrack to Philip Leacock's 1960 film, Let No Man Write My Epitaph, on Ella Fitzgerald's Clap Hands, Here Comes Charlie! (CD, Verve/Classic VSCD-4053). This disc showed enough of that great force we call "Ella" to make me forget for a while that I was reviewing speakers, and reminded me of the good sounds I'd heard in Sjöfn's room at the Capital Audiofest.
Changes
Annoyed with my inability to get The Clues to sing, and trying to grasp what was really happening, I remembered that, like The Clue, my much-loved Totem Model One Signatures ($2295/pair) also needed to be toed in so that I could just barely see the outer edges of their cabinets. I placed the Totems in my room's sweet spot, about 19" from the front wall, and played "You're My Thrill" again (I never tire of this record). Instantly, the bass was richer and deeper. The trombone, which had sounded skinny and cold through The Clues, was now too fat and warm. I felt I'd a fallen into a Jack Sprat and Wife situation: The Totems played slightly fat in the lower midrange and upper bass, The Clue played noticeably lean. The Clues' smaller but much airier soundstage made the Totems' stage seem a bit thick and bloated. Hmmmm? While speculating about what Jack Sprat's wife really looked like, I remembered that I'd asked Lars Erickson what amps they'd used to voice The Clue. "We used a number of amps, but primarily a Hegel H70 integrated." When I looked up reviews of the Hegel online, these words and phrases kept jumping out at me: "warm," "warmer," "internal warmth," "not overly detailed," "overly saturated," "strong upper bass," "massive," "weighty."
Realizing that the Hegel may have added all those traits I felt were missing from The Clue, I fired up my Line Magnetic LM-518 IA 22W integrated amplifier, with 845 tubes, just to hear what would happen. I didn't expect much—Erickson had told me that The Clue "liked power"—but I connected the Sjöfns to the LM-518's 4-ohm taps and let 'er rip with the Commander Cody tracks. Much to my surprise, this combination played forcefully and effortlessly. Don't ask me why, but now Andy Stein's saxophone in "20 Flight Rock" had those more flatulent textures and vivid colors I enjoy, the steel guitar had a little more Technicolor in its twang, the piano had a more authentic tone. This low-powered tube amp made The Clue noticeably more enjoyable. Thinking I might be on to something, I tried my ancient B&K ST-140 power amp and NAD 1020 preamp. The sound was even warmer, even more colorful.
While installing the Erickson-recommended Supra speaker cables and interconnects, I remembered how the legendary Linn Kans had also needed to be close to the wall behind them. Some Kan fans even cut holes in the wall for the cables and binding posts! The Kans didn't image worth a damn, but they set new small-speaker benchmarks for bass, punch, and drive. Because they had such a remarkable upper bass and lower midrange, the Kans could play the boogie-woogie bejesus out of certain not-too-complex records. I also remembered how Linn dealers used only records that showcased the Kan's strengths in their demonstrations, and avoided things like Mahler symphonies that made them seems harsh or unsophisticated. (I didn't buy the Kans because I thought my Badger Kit LS3/5As could better reproduce the scale and tone of a symphony orchestra.) I also remembered using, favorably reviewing, and completely enjoying Sally Bowles through the Spendor S3/5s.
Deciding it must now be showtime, I pulled out that fierce big-brain master of the keyboard, Egon Petri, playing Busoni's hallucinatory Indianisches Tagebuch (LP, EMI HQM 1112); and Bartók's even more dissonant and mind-expanding Sonata for Two Pianos and Percussion, with Bracha Eden and Alexander Tamir (LP, London CS 6583). I use fantastic musical performances the way some people use drugs, and Petri's version of these four studies based on Native American folk themes, and Bartók's folksong-inspired sonatas, are what I imagine taking peyote or mushrooms must be like. The Sjöfns—with the rich-sounding Zu Audio DL-103 cartridge and Roksan K2 BT integrated amp—tracked this extremely complex music with some authority, and allowed me, perhaps for the first time, to "see inside" the eerie dissonances of these very sophisticated interpretations. Finally, I was able to use The Clues' strongest points—their detail and transparency—to aid my understanding and enjoyment of the music.
Context
Then the Imp of the Perverse bit me. I took my old Rogers LS3/5As off their wall brackets in front of my desk, placed them on stands 18" from the front wall, and played the Busoni again. Not surprisingly, these ancient British classics couldn't match the Sjöfns' apparent speed or definition. Even so, the Rogerses' octave-to-octave tonal balance was significantly more realistic (yes, Lars Erickson, I heard that bump), and the soundstage was more open and naturally proportioned. Compared to The Clue, the Rogers reminded me of comfortable slippers and my well-behaved old dog— except now, I could enjoy something a bit stronger burning in my meerschaum pipe. No more Jack Sprat Syndrome, no more too much or too little—that's what I found when I replaced the Rogers LS3/5As with the KEF LS50s ($1499/pair). After playing the Petri and Bartók records all the way through with the LS50s, I rediscovered just how relaxed, balanced, and flat-out musically engaging these little speakers can be. The Clue, the Rogers, and the KEF all have 5" mid/woofers, but the LS3/5A and the LS50 produced sufficient weight and instrumental body to sound believable and not distracting. The Clue did not. I don't swear much, but when I replaced The Clues, the 5As, and the LS50s with my DeVore Fidelity Orangutan O/93s, I began repeating three-word exclamations that began with "Holy" and ended with the name of my headphone amp. If the KEFs added $5000 to my piano sound, the DeVores ($8400/pair) added another $20,000.
With The Clues, the pianos were roughly 4' wide and maybe 3' tall, but distant sounding. With the O/93s, Egon Petri's instrument became a genuine, full-size Steinway, with me and the mikes sitting right there up close to the pianist—I could have shot him with a rubber band.
Conclusions
At the beginning of the review process I felt, "Whoopee! I'm gonna review my first loudspeaker for Stereophile!" By the end, I felt as if I'd been knocked down and assaulted by an anonymous wooden box. Usually, the reviewer reviews the speaker; this time, it felt as if the speaker were reviewing me—as if I were being tested. I felt that my taste, my knowledge, and my ability to perceive sonic reality were under siege. But feelings are not facts. I kept thinking that Sjöfn HiFi's The Clue was probably extremely good—maybe even some sort of breakthrough, especially for the price. I mean, what the hell; The Clue was transparent and highly detailed. It played fast and smooth. Its high frequencies were extended and well dispersed. Its bass was sharp and detailed, and put in notable efforts below 50Hz. The pair of them projected a wide, clear soundstage.
I did not have a Hegel H70 integrated amp, but I drove The Clues with a B&K ST-140 power amp and four integrateds: a Rogue Audio Sphinx, a Line Magnetic LM-518 IA, a Creek 4330, and a Roksan K2 BT. Each made the Sjöfns sound very different. (Surprisingly, the speakers sounded best with the moderately powered B&K and Line Magnetics amps.) At the end of this whole process, I'm upset with myself because I couldn't find a way to really enjoy my listening time while The Clues were in the system.
I think Jim Croft and Lars Erickson should step back and take another, perhaps slightly humbler, look at what they have accomplished. They have created a moderately priced loudspeaker to a singular, optimized-use model—an ambitious and admirable concept—that will deliver sensational performance to audiophiles who value detail, transparency, and dynamic ease above weight and balanced tone; who are willing to position The Clues precisely as required; and who will take the time to find an amp that makes them play according to their taste.
Did The Clue trounce the KEF LS50? Some among you may think so. I think the little KEF will end up ranking among such classic, time-honored designs as the Quad ESL-57, the Altec 604, and the BBC LS3/5A. Is The Clue "full-range"? I'll let John Atkinson and his MLSSA system answer that. Is The Clue an "affordable state-of-the-art monitor"? To me, state of the art is more a marketing than an engineering term.
What I do know is my own, very specific "use model" for a loudspeaker: one that lets me play one recording after another, one genre of music after another, without anxiety, distraction, or negative thoughts about sound quality. For me, a good loudspeaker is a comfortable coach (with something like vaguely flat in-room response) drawn by a pair of mythical horses (well-designed amplifiers) that can cross rivers, mountains, and deserts with ease and aplomb. A great loudspeaker is one that lets me travel to faraway places and never makes me want to come home. The Clue made me homesick for my little dog and warm slippers.
Annoyed with my inability to get The Clues to sing, and trying to grasp what was really happening, I remembered that, like The Clue, my much-loved Totem Model One Signatures ($2295/pair) also needed to be toed in so that I could just barely see the outer edges of their cabinets. I placed the Totems in my room's sweet spot, about 19" from the front wall, and played "You're My Thrill" again (I never tire of this record). Instantly, the bass was richer and deeper. The trombone, which had sounded skinny and cold through The Clues, was now too fat and warm. I felt I'd a fallen into a Jack Sprat and Wife situation: The Totems played slightly fat in the lower midrange and upper bass, The Clue played noticeably lean. The Clues' smaller but much airier soundstage made the Totems' stage seem a bit thick and bloated. Hmmmm? While speculating about what Jack Sprat's wife really looked like, I remembered that I'd asked Lars Erickson what amps they'd used to voice The Clue. "We used a number of amps, but primarily a Hegel H70 integrated." When I looked up reviews of the Hegel online, these words and phrases kept jumping out at me: "warm," "warmer," "internal warmth," "not overly detailed," "overly saturated," "strong upper bass," "massive," "weighty."
Then the Imp of the Perverse bit me. I took my old Rogers LS3/5As off their wall brackets in front of my desk, placed them on stands 18" from the front wall, and played the Busoni again. Not surprisingly, these ancient British classics couldn't match the Sjöfns' apparent speed or definition. Even so, the Rogerses' octave-to-octave tonal balance was significantly more realistic (yes, Lars Erickson, I heard that bump), and the soundstage was more open and naturally proportioned. Compared to The Clue, the Rogers reminded me of comfortable slippers and my well-behaved old dog— except now, I could enjoy something a bit stronger burning in my meerschaum pipe. No more Jack Sprat Syndrome, no more too much or too little—that's what I found when I replaced the Rogers LS3/5As with the KEF LS50s ($1499/pair). After playing the Petri and Bartók records all the way through with the LS50s, I rediscovered just how relaxed, balanced, and flat-out musically engaging these little speakers can be. The Clue, the Rogers, and the KEF all have 5" mid/woofers, but the LS3/5A and the LS50 produced sufficient weight and instrumental body to sound believable and not distracting. The Clue did not. I don't swear much, but when I replaced The Clues, the 5As, and the LS50s with my DeVore Fidelity Orangutan O/93s, I began repeating three-word exclamations that began with "Holy" and ended with the name of my headphone amp. If the KEFs added $5000 to my piano sound, the DeVores ($8400/pair) added another $20,000.
At the beginning of the review process I felt, "Whoopee! I'm gonna review my first loudspeaker for Stereophile!" By the end, I felt as if I'd been knocked down and assaulted by an anonymous wooden box. Usually, the reviewer reviews the speaker; this time, it felt as if the speaker were reviewing me—as if I were being tested. I felt that my taste, my knowledge, and my ability to perceive sonic reality were under siege. But feelings are not facts. I kept thinking that Sjöfn HiFi's The Clue was probably extremely good—maybe even some sort of breakthrough, especially for the price. I mean, what the hell; The Clue was transparent and highly detailed. It played fast and smooth. Its high frequencies were extended and well dispersed. Its bass was sharp and detailed, and put in notable efforts below 50Hz. The pair of them projected a wide, clear soundstage.
