Phono Cartridge Reviews

While the AT-OC9 bears the Audio-Technica logo, you won't find a sample of this moving-coil cartridge at your friendly Audio-Technica dealership. The US distributor of Audio-Technica products has apparently decided that their market does not include high-end cartridges. A quick perusal of the latest Audio directory issue (October 1988) lists the most expensive AT cartridge at $295, with no moving-coils in sight. When I first heard of the AT-OC9, the only reasonably accessible source, short of Japan, was Audio-Technica in the UK. A quick phone call and follow-up letter resulted in a review sample. Since that time, Music Hall in the US importers of the Epos loudspeakers, among other items) has begun importing the AT-OC9 (along with the less-expensive AT-F5). Mail-order company Lyle Cartridges also stock it, I believe.

You know what's the first thing they teach you in dental school? Don't ever say "Oops!" Even if you stick one of those hooked teeth scrapers through the patient's cheek, you don't say "Oops!" "Don't move!"? Yes. "Oops!"? No. That's the big day-one lesson—and given the cost of medical malpractice insurance today, a damn good one.

No matter how much I upgrade my digital rig, my trusty $1195 Well-Tempered Record Player blows it away without half trying. . . That's why I corralled a bunch of promising midpriced cartridges and spent a couple of months settin' 'em up, breakin' 'em in, and listenin' to 'em on my favorite records.

In 1976, a Soviet fighter pilot named Viktor Belenko made an emergency landing in Hokkaido, Japan. He was flying a MiG-25 supersonic interceptor jet and, upon touching down, requested political asylum. This proved to be a stroke of brilliant luck for the Americans. The MiG-25 remains one of the fastest and highest-flying aircraft ever produced, and Belenko's defection allowed them to have a tantalizing look at the technology inside.

Among the top-secret loot found inside the Soviet jet was a large, heavy triode vacuum tube used as a regulator in the power supply of the MiG's radio. It was known as the 6C33C. (The enormous electromagnetic pulse caused by a nuclear explosion would fry a transistor. Tubes were used in military equipment with such an eventuality in mind.)

Stereo is the most successful audio gimmick of all time. While dashboard record players, quadraphonic LPs, and MQA have gone the way of Ron Popeil's hair-in-a-spray-can infomercials, stereo remains king. And I am guilty of loving it.

That old expression "men love with their eyes" applies to listening, too. Enabled by the advent of a second channel, the fanning out of musicians across a soundstage fills the room and gives the eyes—and not only the ears—something to do. And I happen to enjoy the soundstage. It may be an utterly artificial delight, but who doesn't love hearing a tambourine coming from 10' to the left of the left speaker? So when I came across an article in which someone likened mono to listening to music through a hole in a wall, the metaphor made sense. Why would anyone want their music congealed in a blob directly in front of them when they could hear it separated out in space?

As always, though, it turns out that things aren't quite so simple...

Pull down the shades, find a comfortable seat, and come with me on an imaginary journey to the year 1956. The Eisenhower-Nixon ticket wins reelection, the United Methodist Church begins to ordain women, and a can of Campbell's tomato soup costs 10 cents. Elvis Presley's two-week residency at Las Vegas's New Frontier Hotel and Casino is received so poorly by the middle-aged guests that Newsweek likens it to "a jug of corn liquor at a champagne party." And a Seattle couple gives birth to Kenneth Bruce Gorelick, who will become known professionally as Kenny G.

The hobby that will become "high-end audio" is still called plain old "audio." The top marginal tax rate is 91%, the US boasts more income equality than present-day socialist Sweden, and most of the country's top earners are not panic-room wealthy but merely rich. The prices of hi-fi gear reflect this: Two of the finest power amplifiers you can buy—the McIntosh MC-60 and the Marantz Model 2 (both monophonic, of course)—retail for $198. That's about $2266 in today's dollars, and while certainly not cheap, these products are accessible to a far larger group of hi-fi enthusiasts than "the best" of today (including from McIntosh itself).

Back in the '90s, when I was young and marginally employed, one of the things I looked forward to most was going downstairs to my mailbox and finding a copy of Audiomart. The booklet arrived every two weeks, sometimes monthly, and was filled with classified ads for audio gear typeset in tiny, difficult-to-read print. In those pre-internet days, you needed a reference from a subscriber to sign up for Audiomart, which fostered a sense of community and safety, and if you wanted to respond to an ad, you had to call someone. Mostly I just enjoyed perusing the ads, but the prices for some of the vintage gear, particularly the less legendary stuff, were low enough that from time to time I could afford them.