Issue 189

There's a reason we're fixated on classic McIntosh gear: the aesthetic is timeless. Here's a superb C26 preamplifier, introduced around the late 1960s.

Just look at those connectivity options! Two phono inputs, five AC courtesy outlets, two tape inputs, and even a center-channel output.

Note the tone controls for each channel. From The Audio Classics Collection, photos by Howard Kneller.

A gem of an integrated amp: a circa-1955 Grommes "Little Jewel" Model LJ6 mono amplifier from Precision Electronics Inc. It delivered about 15 watts per channel and has a mysterious setting for "old LP!" Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Joe Haupt.

Whoever created this 1940s Philips ad deserves a graphic design award.

And you thought you were a serious gear collector! Radio and Television News, November 1950.

Howard Kneller’s audiophile adventures are documented on his YouTube channel (The Listening Chair with Howard Kneller) and on Instagram (@howardkneller). His art and photography can also be found on Instagram (@howardkneller.photog). Finally, he posts a bit of everything on Facebook (@howardkneller).

The good news is that Paul Simon is still writing and singing about troubled waters.

The bad news is that the waters are rising, and there is no longer any bridge.

Paul Simon was probably not planning on creating an album, released today, called Seven Psalms, a 33-minute song cycle meant to be listened to in one sitting. My preference would be in a dark room, illuminated by a single yahrzeit (memorial) candle, because this is about the end, my friend, and no matter what your faith, I would reconsider that pact we signed 55 years ago when Jim Morrison of the Doors made his then-outrageous assertion: "Cancel my subscription to the Resurrection." We were stoned, Lord. We didn't mean it. At least I didn't. Four years later, Jim Morrison was dead. I'm not suggesting cause and effect. I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just an observer, though the great power of the Doors was that they made us feel complicit in what they did, participants in their dark magic happening.

Paul Simon is 81 years old. Four years ago, he tells Martin Cullingford of the classical music magazine Gramophone (UK), he had a dream, "on January 15, 2019, and the dream said: 'you're supposed to write a piece called Seven Psalms'." (He shows the scrawled paper in the trailer.) At first Simon wasn't sure what a psalm was. Then he started creating some music on acoustic guitar. Then, more dreams: "I started waking up during the middle of the night two or three times a week, between 3:30 and 5:00 am, and words would come. I would get up and write them down, and then I'd see if I could write a second verse as well – but as soon as I tried to do anything, everything stopped."

Simon has also talked about his process of starting a song beginning with a first line, without a plan. The first and reoccurring song in Seven Psalms is called "The Lord," and it begins: "I've been thinking about the great migration." The Great Migration is defined by the National Archives African-American history section as two periods between 1910 – 1970 (before and after World War II), when six to seven million black people left the mostly agricultural jobs in the Jim Crow South for factory work in the north. "And I imagine their destination," Simon sings, "Meadow grass, jagged rock."

Then, modeled on the Psalms of David, the most famous of which is Psalm 23, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shalt not want," Simon begins to describe his visions. "The Lord is my engineer...the earth I ride on...the face in the atmosphere...the path I slip and slide on," an evocation of Simon's 1977 single, "Slip Sliding Away." But darkness descends in the last verse of "The Lord," which declares: "The Covid virus is the Lord/The Lord is the ocean rising/The Lord is a terrible swift sword..." There are more than 50 ways to leave your lover, to leave this world, or have the world leave us.

The second psalm, "Love is Like a Braid," has a pivotal line that shows a more serious side of Simon's spiritual encounters that were so humorous in the 2011 album, So Beautiful or So What. On that album, "The Afterlife" described a purgatorial state akin to a wait at the Department of Motor Vehicles.

Twelve years later, the stakes are much higher, and there is less to joke about in "Love is Like a Braid":

I lived a life of pleasant sorrows
Until the real deal came
Broke me like a twig in a winter gale
Called me by my name.

There's still a wait time until things get sorted out. "A jury sat deliberating/All is lost, or all is well."

The third psalm is called "My Professional Opinion," which sounds like a complete dream, in which everyone is naked and whispering, the "expert" or "professional" can only offer the diagnosis, "I'm no more satisfied than you." There is one moment of levity, in which two cows are talking, then arguing, and professional opinion is "all the cows in the country must bear the blame." It's Paul Simon's dream, noted, but it sounds like a throwaway line from "Bob Dylan's Dream" circa 1963.

"The Lord" has a short reprise before the fourth psalm, "Your Forgiveness." There is some wonderful writing here: "Inside the digital mind/A homeless soul ponders the code/of forgiveness."

But it goes to the deeper question that haunts this brief album: Does humanity deserve forgiveness? Or did we blow it? "I," Simon sings, "I have my reasons to doubt/There is a case to be made/Two billion heartbeats and out." He repeats a variation, both dire and hopeful: his doubt about two billion heartbeats is whether "A white light eases the pain...Or does it all begin again?" He suggests a baptism in reverse: "Dip your hand in heaven's waters, God's imagination."

Simon plays acoustic guitar with the precision he's mastered over about 70 years of practice. He also plays an assortment of bells, gongs, cloud-chamber bowls and the like, while Jamey Haddad adds more percussion exotica. Voces8, a British a cappella group, is also utilized, not so much for vocal harmonies but instrumental harmonics: adding their voices to guitar tones, for example.

Paul Simon. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Matthew Straubmuller (imatty35).

His wife, Edie Brickell, 57, joins him on this album, singing harmonies and the occasional solo line or verse on a few spins on the cycle. She's especially prominent on "The Sacred Harp," a mystical tale about two hitch-hikers that is atypical of Simon's songs for its lack of resolution, a kind of dangling conversation.

By the third interpolation of "The Lord," before the final psalm, the words have changed: "The Lord is a puff of smoke...The Lord is my personal joke." There's a query about whether we are anything special in God's creation, or "Are we all just trial and error/One of a billion in the universe." Then, Simon delivers his personal joke: "The Lord is my engineer/The Lord is my record producer," which would give godlike status to Simon's co-producer on this project, Kyle Crusham, who is also the engineer.

The final psalm is called "Wait," and it is scary. It's like one of those The New Yorker cartoons in which the Grim Reaper appears. Simon's "captions" include: "Wait, I'm not ready, I'm just packing my gear." He wants a "dreamless transition," does not want to give in to his "dark intuition." Then, he and Brickell harmonize on a final verse: "Heaven is beautiful/It's almost like home/Children! get ready/It's time to come home. Amen." Is this a joke, too, a grim fairy tale? It's not a belief system I recognize from anyone who, like Simon, was bar-mitzvah'd in Queens, even if they left religion behind. An odd whiff of cult fundamentalism, but I guess The Lord made that too.

If Simon is trying to scare me, he has succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. These dream songs sound polite, but the attuned listener who has confronted their mortality will need to find their way home through their own unruly spiritual wilderness.

This article originally appeared here in Critical Conditions, the Substack blog of Wayne Robins, and is used by permission.

I and his friends knew the day would come, but when it did, it was no less of a shock. Copper contributor, bassist extraordinaire and audiophile Dan Schwartz passed away on May 16, 2023 at age 66 after a long bout with cancer.

Dan had been a Copper contributor since the first issue, published on August 11, 2016. During that time, he wrote more than 70 articles for his “Music and Other Illnesses” column, offering up-close-and-personal insight into what it was like to be a professional musician, incisive observations on high-end and pro audio technology, and much more. Dan had played and worked with Sheryl Crow, Jon Hassell, Keith Levene (Public Image Ltd.), Rosanne Cash, Bill Bottrell, Eno and many others and was an absolutely superb player.

I first met Dan around the mid-1980s when I joined The Absolute Sound. Dan was a writer for the magazine, or signed on around that time, and I eventually became his editor. I don’t remember whether I first met him over the phone or at a CES (I really should have kept a diary). Somehow he, Michael Fremer and I quickly became a trio of kindred spirits when roaming the floor at CES, then the main show for high-end audio, and hanging out at after-hours events. Since the three of us were obsessed with audio, recording technology, and especially the most minute of minutiae about music and artists, I remember long and deep conversations about everything from how Jack Casady got his bass tone to why Dan liked equipment with lots of headroom, but was particular about the kinds of distortion you could get from the right bass and amplifier combination. Dan was a great admirer of the work of Tim de Paravicini.

Here's a well-known song with Dan on bass:

Dan was easygoing with me but strong in his opinions. I tend to be the same, so it was fun to sometimes agree and often disagree on what we thought of gear we’d heard at shows or used on gigs. Dan was pretty level-headed in the time I spent with him, not a wild-man partier.

And boy did he have stories, many of which have been published in Copper. Phil Lesh once gave Dan a bass designed by legendary luthier Rick Turner. Dan once did a session for Michael Jackson, and Jackson rejected Dan’s tracks because he thought they sounded “too human.” I saw Dan play once, at a gig in New York with Jon Hassell, with Eno mixing sound. I think most of the people in the audience didn’t know it was Eno. The music was a sort of combination of jazz, ambient, and exploratory improvisation and Dan was brilliant in literally keeping it all together with his assured playing and deep, rich tone that seemingly extended into the subterranean, yet retained clarity. A master. 

Things could get crazy at The Absolute Sound in those days and Dan was a steady influence in giving me advice on how to deal with editor Harry Pearson, the writers, the manufacturers, the industry personalities and the divas. Being a professional musician, he had plenty of experience in such things. We’d have many conversations, simply sharing our enthusiasm about music and equipment. When you’re a gearhead, you know how that is.

When I left TAS, I lost touch with Dan (and a lot of other people) for something like…20 years. Then Facebook came along. I sent friend requests to everyone I could think of including Dan, and we began keeping in touch again, mostly from me seeing his posts and vice versa. Then Copper magazine came along. I was delighted to see that Dan was a contributor and read him from the beginning. I would have never thought that a couple of years later I’d be his editor again. It was like a flashback, as his articles would come in and with a smile on my face, I’d switch on Track Changes in Word and look through his copy, something I’d never imagined I’d be doing all those years later.

Naturally we communicated regularly – and I had known through friends that Dan had been battling cancer for a while, maybe more than a decade. He once got mad – the most irritated he ever got at me – when I called him and said something like, “you’ve been fighting cancer for a long time.” He replied to the effect of, “I wish people wouldn’t say I’m fighting cancer! It’s not a fight! I’m living with cancer.”

I last spoke to Dan a couple of months ago, about a routine matter involving Copper, though of course we quickly got off onto a musical tangent. His voice sounded noticeably more hoarse than usual, and he told me that he wasn’t able to go out much anymore. We joked and agreed, well, that’s what audio systems are for!

I don’t do Facebook as much as I used to but a couple of weeks ago was on it and saw a message from Dan saying that he’d spent the last few days in the hospital and was now in hospice. A chill went up my body, as we know what that usually means. I thought, the guy’s seriously ill and he’s taking the time to let everyone know that his time on the planet may be coming to a close. Sadness overtook me, but also happiness that Dan seemed to be facing it with grace and courage. Perhaps that might be the best way I can end my tribute to him – Dan, you always had grace and courage. Thanks for the friendship, the artistry, and the inspiration.

Dr. Sean Olive is a Senior Fellow, Acoustic Research, at Harman International. He has extensive expertise related to perception and measurement of sound quality, and oversees Harman’s corporate R&D acoustics group. His objective and subjective critical listening research covers a depth and breadth of insights few can rival, with the result that many listeners enjoy the fruits of his labors.

In this two-part interview, we scratch the surface of some of this research, including insight into the Harman Curve for headphones, which is a frequency response curve that has been determined by Harman to be pleasing to a majority of listeners.

Russell Welton: What were some of the challenges to get AKG (a Harman brand) to implement the Harman Curve in some of their headphone models, including the AKG K371?

Dr. Sean Olive: Our research into the perception and measurement of headphone sound quality covered a seven-year span (from) 2012 to 2019. The AKG K371 was released in July 2018 and was the first AKG Professional headphone to implement the Harman target curve. Part of the challenge you mentioned was related to AKG going through some business and structural changes, which eventually led to their Vienna headquarters being transferred to California, where we are located. The new AKG management team was very familiar with our research and were anxious to transfer it into new headphone models: the AKG K371 and K361. The K371 received almost instant critical acclaim for its sound quality and helped to legitimize the Harman target curve as a reference benchmark.

RW: Can you tell us a little about the studies which correlate personality types with frequency response preferences? Does this influence your design and marketing strategies?

SO: Our research identified three segments of listeners based on their preferred headphone sound profiles, as well as the underlying demographic factors (age, gender, and listening experience) associated with each segment. The largest segment (64 percent) prefers the Harman Target Curve and includes all age groups, [levels of] listening experience, and genders. The second largest segment (21 percent) preferred the Harman target with 2 – 3 dB less bass and includes a disproportionate percentage of females and older listeners. The smallest segment (15 percent) preferred the 4 – 6 dB more bass than the target and consisted of mostly younger males.

Our JBL-branded headphones tend to have 2 dB extra bass than the Harman target curve because they are aimed at a younger demographic identified in one of the segments. The Mark Levinson No. 5909 headphones allow you to choose among three different bass levels so that it can satisfy the tastes of all three segments.

The Harman curve. Courtesy of Jazz Times magazine.

Our research specifically address the role of personality in preferred sound profile, but other studies have shown that psychoticism, gender, and extraversion are all positively correlated to a preference for enhanced bass. Younger males tend to make up that segment. Think about how many times you have encountered a car driving by with booming bass that rattles the windows, and there was a female driving it. Never? Other studies have shown musical preferences tend to be associated with your five-factor personality traits, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there is a connection with what type of sound you prefer.

RW: How significant is the new research in mapping inner ear canals for simulating listening tests as conducted by B&K using their Type 5128 high-frequency head and torso simulator (HATS)? [The type 5128 is an artificial “dummy head” and torso that is used to simulate the acoustic properties of an actual person – Ed.]

SO: The main advantage of the new B&K ear simulator is it more accurately reproduces the acoustic impedance seen by headphones below 100 Hz and above 8 – 10 kHz. In theory, this means that headphones measured on it will [have] a more accurate representation of how they measure on humans. While this is true as far as ear canals go, there are other factors that influence how a headphone measures on humans.

We recently measured nine models of headphones on different test fixtures and humans and found significant discrepancies at low and high frequencies. Since we measured the headphones at the blocked ear canal, the measurement differences were related to how the headphones couple and seal around the ear and face. This is particularly true for closed-back headphones that rely on a good seal for their bass.

Mannequin test fixtures like HATS and [the G.R.A.S.] KEMAR tend to be leakier than humans and underestimate the bass produced by the headphones [as] measured on humans. Test fixtures that use a flat plate with a pinna (e.g., the GRAS 45CA test fixture) tend to provide a better seal on the headphone than humans and overestimate how much bass humans will hear. So, there is still more work to be done on test fixtures. In the meantime, my advice for consumers is to always check the fit and seal of a closed-back headphone and listen to the bass balance before purchasing it.

Although the Harman target curve research was based on using the older IEC 60318-7 ear simulator, it doesn’t invalidate or change the target, since it was based on listening tests – not measurements. It only means that a headphone tuned to the Harman target curve will measure differently on a B&K 5128, particularly at low and higher frequencies. We have a Harman target curve defined for the B&K 5128 and may eventually publish it.

RW: What do you see as the future for the Harman Curve as the benchmark reference frequency response for headphones?

SO: I believe the Harman Curve has become popular and adopted as a benchmark reference because there is a significant body of published scientific research to back it up. But we don’t claim that it is the last word in headphone sound quality. The segmentation research we did suggests there are good reasons to slightly deviate [from] the target to satisfy different tastes based on age, hearing or listening experiences. I’m quite certain that other researchers – maybe even us – will propose alternative targets if new research supports it.

RW: What is pinna gain, and how does it affect different listeners? [The pinna is the external part of the ear – Ed.]

SO: Pinna gain is probably not the best term since the transfer function from a sound source to the eardrum is influenced by many anatomical parts besides the pinna. The well-known figure below summarizes the contributions in gain (dB) from the head, neck, torso, and external ear including the pinna. Together, they provide up to 17 dB gain at 2.7 kHz measured at the eardrum for a sound source located at 45 degrees to your left or right.

The largest gain occurs from the resonance of the ear canal at 2.7 kHz, followed by the concha (the central part of the ear) at 6 kHz. The black curve is often referred to as the head-related-transfer-function (HRTF) which defines the transfer function of a sound source to the eardrum. An entire set of HRTFs captures sound sources at different distances measured over a sphere; a binaural renderer can then simulate a 3-D sound field.

Everyone has a different set of HRTFs due to differences in the shape and size of their head, torsos and ears. Research has shown that the most accurate localization and timbre of binaural rendering happens when it’s personalized using the listener’s own HRTFs.

RW: What are your feelings about the inclusion of a crossover in IEM (in-ear monitor) and on-ear headphone designs?

SO: Crossovers are necessary if you are doing a multi-way design where two or more transducers are used to cover different parts of the audio band. This typically happens in IEM designs where, for example, a dynamic driver may be used for bass, and a balanced armature is used at higher frequencies. You need a crossover to optimize the frequency response of the system, compensate for differences in the [drivers’] sensitivities, and make sure the [drivers] are not operating in a region where they may produce distortion. 

RW: What does your research reveal about the pros and cons of using planar magnetic design in IEMs?

SO: I don’t have much experience with planar magnetic designs in in-ear monitors. But if they meet all the necessary technical parameters to achieve good sound, then it comes down to tradeoffs in sensitivity, SPL output, weight, manufacturability, and cost. There are many examples of excellent planar magnetic headphones in the market, but they tend to be larger, heavier designs that have lower sensitivities and higher associated costs. For a high-end headphone intended for home use, that isn’t necessarily a big issue, but for a mass consumer product that intended to be small, portable, with good battery life, it can be a deciding factor.

In Part Two of our interview, Dr Olive discusses the further technological improvements we can look forward to for enjoying our recorded music, and offers advice for aspiring audio engineers and audiophiles.

Header image courtesy of Dr. Sean Olive.

I listen to a lot of music, both new and old. I listen in the car. I listen at home. I listen on vinyl, CD, cassette and digital files. So, what's the point? The point is that for something new to catch my ear and not get caught up in the jumble of notes I have rattling around in my head, it needs to really be something.

Yes, I’ve reached the point where I am starting to very seriously assess if any given piece of physical media will remain in my house. Why? Primarily for space reasons, honestly. So, with that being said, if it's not top-notch or something I see myself listening to repeatedly, I am no longer keeping it around. Now that I've said all that, let's talk about If... by David Heatley.

I am relatively new to Heatley's music, but after a few listens to his new record, I can say that his sublime blending of retro aesthetic and indie sensibility really appeals to me. This is what I look for these days when I put on a new record. If you're wondering if it's a keeper for the collection, I'll save you the suspense – it is.

The music of David Heatley is great anytime music, summer, fall, spring, or winter. It makes for rewarding listening on long drives to nowhere on weekends, or on a quick jaunt to the store. It's great at night, and it's perfect for the morning. I think you get the picture. You want this record.

If you are intrigued and want to learn more, dig into my recent chat with David Heatley about his new music, his songwriting, his career as an illustrator, and more.

Andrew Daly: What first inspired you to get involved with music?

David Heatley: It might have been the nuns playing acoustic guitars at the hippie Catholic church where my parents were Sunday school teachers. Or, more likely, it was discovering the anti-folk scene in the East Village of New York City in the early '90s. My bandmate and I would go in and play open mics and [we] recorded a couple of records for the indie label Shimmy Disc. So that shot in the arm sent me down this path in earnest.

AD: Who were your primary influences, and who influences you most today?

DH: Prince, David Byrne, Jonathan Richman, Black Francis. But tons of others, too. Recording down in Louisiana has been life-changing, and I'd say all the guest artists on my two solo records have influenced the direction of my songs: Sarah Quintana, Tif Lamson, Julie Odell, Lilli Lewis, Sam Kuslan, Louis Michot, Bryan Webre, Kirkland Middleton, Michael Cerveris, Rex Gregory. The talent down there is off the wall.

AD: Describe your approach. How has it evolved, and where do you plan to take it?

DH: I get song ideas either in my dreams or while doing something else absentmindedly. It could be a melody fragment, lyric, or whole chorus idea. I record them on my phone and then go through and listen to what I have. There are several hundred still on my phone that I haven't done anything with yet.

If one jumps out at me, I'll work with it. Find some chords, get out my lyric notebook, and try to write it in one sitting. If I labor over something too long, it is usually overwrought. So, if something's not working, I'll leave it alone, sometimes for years. And if I pick it back up, usually, it'll write itself much quicker once I've given it some space.

AD: Which recording or recordings mean the most to you and why? Which best represent you?

DH: Impossible to answer. Even the stock musician's answer about all your songs being your children and being unable to choose a favorite is an unsatisfying cliche. I chose each song to record, and which would end up on the record, very carefully, and [for If… ]I spent a year pursuing the perfect version of each of them, choosing my collaborators with extreme care.

Without sounding too arrogant, there isn't a moment on any of these songs that I don't stand behind. Even though it's unfashionable, I think of this whole album as one experience I hope people will give themselves over to. It's a rewarding journey if you let yourself take it.

AD: Tell me more about your latest record, If.... Where are you most drawing inspiration from?

DH: This record and my previous Life Our Way is steeped in Louisiana. So, I'd say the landscape, the bayou, the alligators, and the musicians down there are probably the biggest inspirations.

AD: This record involved a myriad of Louisiana avant-roots musicians, right?

DH: All praise is due to Mark Bingham, who produced my first solo record and opened his Rolodex to a dozen versatile and soulful players who all made these records what they are. Many of the same collaborators also appear on If.... I had no idea this scene even existed, stuck in the backwater of the city where I live (New York City). Seriously, it was life-changing to play with and befriend all these people and spend even a little time soaking up the music in the air.

AD: Which new songs do you like playing most live?

DH: The first single, "Mess," is really fun. I don't play live much, though. I like writing, recording, and making music videos, and I don't have many opportunities to play shows.

AD: Do current trends alter your style and technique at all? Or do you stay true to your roots?

DH: I'm not great at keeping up with the latest music scene, to be honest. I'm going for something a little more timeless and classic in my songwriting and how the records sound, but hopefully not just a pastiche of '70s classic rock tropes. I write with as much psychological depth and nuance as possible but pair it with the most straightforward, accessible pop sounds. If there's such a thing as a platonic ideal for each song that comes to me, that's what I'm shooting for.

I'm at a stage where I feel like I have a direct relationship with my unconscious. When you're open to listening to whatever it wants to communicate to you – either through dreams or an intuitive sense of what to do next at any given crossroads in your life – you realize that the taproot down to your unconscious creativity is a well that never runs dry. We make stories and pictures, and music in our dreams every night. It never stops.

AD: How does your career as an illustrator affect your musical output, if at all? Is there an overlap in creativity?

DH: I'm very into directing animated videos. I'm currently adapting my last graphic memoir into a TV series, and that show has a music component. And I've also really loved creating music videos for my songs, sometimes drawing every frame by hand, but more often hiring others who are brilliant at what they do and can take my idea to another level.

AD: What's next for you?

DH: Aside from the aforementioned TV pitch, I have another record's worth of songs already written. They came to me intuitively, somewhat effortlessly, and had timeless, mythic storytelling themes. I'm excited to start recording them this year and maybe have them ready for a 2024 release.

Header image courtesy of Greg Kessler.

I’m going to say this right up front: I consider the Kinks’ Ray Davies to be the greatest pop/rock songwriter of all time. Yep, I know I’m putting him at the top of a list of luminaries including Dylan, Joni, John and Paul, Leonard and others, but I find Davies to be the most incisive, poignant and profound observer of the human condition of anyone. In my opinion, he gets to the heart of what it’s like to live life on this planet like no one else.

Raymond Douglas Davies was already nostalgic for a bygone British era when he was still a young man, alternating between joyful rockers like “All Day and All of the Night” with wistful longings for better days in songs like…well, entire albums like 1968’s The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society and 1969’s Arthur (Or the Decline and Fall of the British Empire). Consider “Shangri-La,” a bittersweet vignette of what it was like to be a middle-aged, middle-class man in 1960s England:

“Put on your slippers and sit by the fire
You’ve reached your top and you just can’t get any higher
You’re in your place and you know where you are
In your Shangri-La”

Or take the landmark 1967 “Waterloo Sunset,” which I consider to be the single greatest rock/pop song ever written. It’s the story of someone watching and reflecting on two lovers, their lives, and his and their dreams:

“But I don’t feel afraid
As long as I gaze on
Waterloo sunset
I am in paradise”

This song not only has deep personal resonance for me, but for many others: “Waterloo Sunset” reached Number 2 on the British charts, and is number 14 on Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Songs of All Time list. It’s one of the favorite songs of Copper’s Jay Jay French and his daughter – at her wedding it was the song for their father/daughter dance.

Both of these and many more are included on a new Kinks anthology, The Journey, Part 1. There have already been a countless number of Kinks greatest hits and retrospective albums (any serious Kinks fan will be familiar with the indispensable The Kink Kronikles) so why another? Available on streaming, CD and a 2-LP set, The Journey – Part 1 does contain a varied selection of hits, album tracks and rarities, but its real claim to fame is that it’s organized thematically, into four parts (which neatly coincide with the four sides of the LP set), grouped as follows in the back cover notes:

I’m very happy to say that many of the tracks are presented in their original mono single and album versions. Like the mono mix of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and other Beatles albums, these mono versions just sound right, the way the songs were originally intended to be heard and felt. Later cuts, such as “The Hard Way” sand “Sitting in the Midday Sun” are, of course, in stereo.

The Kinks in 1965: Pete Quaife, Dave Davies, Ray Davies, Mick Avory. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/promotional photo.

It’s hard to make definitive pronouncements on the sound quality of the album overall because of the fact that the songs were recorded over the course of years and the sound of them is all over the place, from the rough distortion of “You Really Got Me” (you can picture the VU meters getting pinned) to the excellent clarity and stereo spread of tracks like “Supersonic Rocket Ship,” “No More Looking Back” and “Strangers.” Even on the roughest recordings, the guitars have presence and punch, and the main vocals are always upfront and easily heard, with some often-sublime background vocal harmonies throughout.

The audio restoration for The Journey – Part 1 was done by Andrew Sandoval at Beatland Tours, and the analog mastering for the vinyl and lacquer cuts was performed by Kevin Gray at Cohearent Audio. I’m sure some remastering tweaking was done to keep a degree of sonic consistency, but I applaud the fact that it doesn’t sound too processed to the point of blandness. A lot of the early Kinks recordings were raw, with rough-sounding guitars – Dave Davies famously cut up the speakers in his early Elpico amp to get distortion. You don’t want to screw with such glorious noise. I listened to both the vinyl LP and the 24/96 hi-res audio stream.

Ray Davies was not giving interviews in conjunction with this album’s release, but he, Dave Davies and original drummer Mick Avory provide song-by-song commentary in the liner notes. Here’s a sampling of a few tracks and comments:

“You Really Got Me”

Ray: “I was playing in an R&B band in a club in Soho and saw this gorgeous girl dancing in the audience. During our break, I went into the audience to find her to tell her about this song I had just written, but she’d disappeared. I’ve been looking for her ever since.”

“Mindless Child of Motherhood”

Ray: “We were starting to try recording in other studios away from Pye Number 2. Dave was self-conscious about the lyrics, so I went shopping while he did his vocals.”

Dave: “Personal and sad, tragic love song.”

“Days”

Ray: “The only way to say goodbye is to be grateful and give thanks that the person was ever there at all.”

Dave: “A beautiful Ray song. Powerful and wonderfully moving.”

Mick: “I could tell from the first rehearsal at Ray’s house that this was a strong number. It didn’t take very long to put it together either. Another one in the list of classics. Kirsty McCall did a great cover of it as well, bless her.”

“Where Have All the Good Times Gone" 

Ray: “My tour manager at the time was amazed that I was 21 when I wrote this because he considered it to be ‘an old man’s song’ but then, I’ve always been old I guess.”

“Waterloo Sunset”

Ray: “The lyrics should say enough but if I went into detail, it would break your heart.”

The Journey – Part 2 is slated to be released later this year. Let the Kinks Kingdom begin the speculation as to what might be included, aside from the obvious “Lola” – ah, there are so many! “Sitting in My Hotel,” “God’s Children,” “A Well Respected Man,” “Dedicated Follower of Fashion,” "This Time Tomorrow," “Victoria,” “I’m Not Like Everybody Else,” "Misfits," and “Mister Pleasant,” for starters. Not to mention “Big Sky…”

Header image courtesy of BMG.

“Don’t die.”

“Lemons Rally is not a race!”

“Obey all traffic laws.”

The rules of a Lemons Rally, a spinoff of the 24 Hours of Lemons racing series, are fairly simple to follow, and it’s obvious that I observed at least one of those rules, as I did not die and am here to tell you about our latest trek through a handful of states over the course of four days.

Each year’s rally is different. While some rallies, like the Rust Belt Ramble or Fall Fail-iage Tour, often start and end in the same or similar places, their checkpoints and areas they travel through will differ each year. Some rallies are one-offs, like last year’s Great River Road rally which took us from New Orleans to St. Paul, and this year’s I-Threw-A-Rod Alaska Rally, which ends on July 4^th at Glacier View National Park, where the traditional launching of junk cars off of a cliff culminates the event. (Given the time and funds required, that is one rally I have to skip.)

This year’s Rocky Mountain Breakdown took us through states the rally has never traveled before – Idaho and Montana. The rally started and ended in Casper, Wyoming, and landed in the evenings at Idaho Falls, Idaho; Missoula, Montana; and Bozeman, MT along the way. If I wind up doing one rally a year, it will be this one, as it always passes through my favorite parts of the country. How can anyone resist a drive with views like this (through the Tetons in western Wyoming)?

Our participants ran the gamut of old cars and hoopties. A couple of us had vehicles from this century, while many of the others were decades old. Some were revived (a ’60s Mustang that sat in a “tree row” for decades, a salvage title flood Corvette) while others were purchased for use in rallies such as these.

Our checkpoints were the usual assortment of stops that included historical structures, abandoned ruins, roadside curiosities, and geographically significant points of interest. One such curiosity was located in Casper, on our way out of town. The checkpoint called for a “giant Bugs and Daffy” and these were found at Sanford’s Grub & Pub.

Earlier in the day, before my failed checkpoints, we needed to locate a pair of dams, including the still-active Pathfinder Dam in Alcova, Wyoming, which was first completed in 1909, and modified and updated many times since, but still has some of its historic original operating equipment.

The first day of a rally is always frustrating for those of us who travel solo, as a lot of our checkpoints must be looked up on the fly, and many locations in this part of the country do not even get a wireless signal to check for additional instructions from an Internet search or a map. While I do store all of my maps offline for navigation (ensuring I always have a map), the ability to search is curtailed once I’m out in the wild.

Such was the case in Lander, Wyoming, where I abandoned finding two of the checkpoints and only took a photo of the outside of a third. One of our checkpoints was the Miner’s Delight ghost town, but the muddy route along a hillside ended a few hundred feet later when I encountered a large snow drift. If there was a longer route available, it would have taken too much time to get to.

The same happened when trying to locate the Parting of the Ways, a place along the Oregon Trail where the Sublette (or Greenwood) Cutoff splits off and heads due west, saving travelers at the time 85 miles and five or six days of travel albeit over much more rugged terrain (including mountain ridges and semi-arid desert). It takes a 4 x 4 to get to the historical plaques and markers, and while I did have some of the capabilities, there were a few places that could have gotten me stuck without a way to get help, especially since small streams often crossed the ruts. Whether or not a western approach past Little Sandy Crossing would have been possible is unknown – it is something I did not have time to investigate given the time I had already lost traveling the rough path.

I ended up skipping the next few checkpoints to make up for the lost time. Further along the route I located the Elk Antler Arches in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

Our drive that day took us through the Tetons. We also passed by Red Canyon, where warning signs alerted us to the current wind conditions of wind gusts exceeding 70 miles per hour. Even if it’s not a checkpoint, I like to take in the scenery, and the view of Red Canyon was no exception.

After passing through the Tetons and arriving in Idaho Falls, one of our checkpoints was this roadside curiosity, a “muffler man party” outside of an exhaust repair shop.

Our second rally day gave us three options: The Good, The Bad, and The Empty. There are a lot of places in our Western states where you can drive seemingly for hours and rarely encounter another car, or pass services such as gas stations or restaurants. That was The Empty, and was worth more points than the other two routes. (And as I predicted, some teams ended up backtracking to do two or all three routes.) The Empty route took us to find Barney Hot Springs, the Summit Reservoir, and Big Gulch Road, all located in Custer County, Idaho.

While the first part of the route was paved with asphalt, most of it was unpaved, and I spent more than three hours off the pavement. And indeed, for the first three hours off the grid, I passed maybe three cars total, beyond encountering two other rally participants along the way. These checkpoints were not hard to find, but they required a lot of drive time, and a lot of trust in your vehicle. I found Barney Hot Springs to be rather lukewarm, although it was only 40 degrees outdoors at the time.

Summit Reservoir and the intersection of Big Gulch Road were not far away, and I took a lunch break about 45 minutes from these locations at the intersection of two dirt roads with nobody in sight.

Following that adventure and rejoining the US highway system at Ellis, Idaho, we were instructed to find The Owl Club, a tavern in downtown Salmon. Is there some untold story here?

The third day’s route covered a span of Montana, and included one of my favorite checkpoints – the ruins of an abandoned miner’s union hall in Granite State Park. This was one of those checkpoints where the drive was the most rewarding part. The signs warned of an “unimproved” road – dirt, gravel, some larger rocks, and a few pits where water flows down the sides of the hills. The road did not disappoint. I started out on a muddy section in light rain. Higher in elevation, it turned to snow.

Near the highest point, and maybe a quarter-mile from the ruins, there were not even tire tracks. Many rally participants had to turn around since the road got too rough, including a couple of larger vehicles (a 1970s Chevy Suburban, and a Chevy “dualie” pickup truck) that couldn’t lumber their way up. Some who made it most of the way ended up walking the final bit to get to the top. Thankfully I had all-wheel drive, all-terrain tires, and enough ground clearance that I had no issue getting all the way to the miner’s hall. (The only unknown was whatever was hiding beneath the snow…which turned out to be not all that treacherous other than a few deep puddles that required good traction and ample ground clearance.)

After a stop in Butte at one rally participant’s shop (where in addition to running a business, they store numerous classic Japanese cars that many of us found interesting), we continued to Helena, the state capital. The Grizzly Gulch Lime Kilns, first operational in the 1860s, provided lime for construction materials back in the day, including the lime used to help construct Montana’s state capitol.

In downtown Helena, the Fire Tower is a prominent historical landmark. Built in 1874 in what was then known as the Last Chance Gulch, it replaced a similar structure built in 1868 which ironically fell due to a fire. Fires were a constant hazard in mining towns, and this tower’s location made it ideal to watch for wisps of smoke among the many log cabins inhabited by miners.

One of the day’s final checkpoints was the confluence of the headwaters of the Missouri River. Watching the currents of these rivers merging together was mesmerizing.

The fourth day involved a stretch of driving, as we needed to complete the Montana portion of the rally and return to Wyoming. One interesting roadside curiosity was the Hyart Theatre located in Lovell, Wyoming.

Another was a natural phenomenon that I would have overlooked had I not encountered it as a rally checkpoint – Hell’s Half Acre. It gained notoriety as the location of the planet Klendathu in the film Starship Troopers. It looks like a downscale version of one of our national parks.

The rally ended without incident in Casper in the early evening. This time, all of the vehicles made it to the finish line, including the winning team (on points) from Florida, A Quest for Fun, who drove a revived Corvette with a flood salvage title purchased from Copart a few months prior to the rally.

Having participated in four Lemons rallies so far, it has been interesting meeting up with others who have taken part in the same rallies that I have, and seeing what they’ve driven. Given my schedule and other stops I had planned along the way, I took my daily driver, a lightly modified Honda CR-V, on this rally. But for the next rally I may take part in, the 2023 Rust Belt Ramble, all bets are off. I may have a vehicle to revive and put on the road and make a good run at getting a fair number of points for doing so. I mainly participate in these rallies because it’s another excuse to get out on the road, visit places I have never been to before, and to enjoy the experience with other rally friends I have made.

All images courtesy of the author.

With all the attention given to the legacy of Elvis Presley over the last few years, it’s no surprise that some of that has spilled over to artists who in one way or another have reminded critics of his performance style and body of work. Parker Millsap is one of them. In this case there are many connections that can be made, from their shared Southern roots to their acoustic guitar-based approach to music, to even their approach to live performance.

But Millsap, who is originally from Oklahoma, is a singer/songwriter who might be more aptly compared to John Hiatt, Townes Van Zandt, or Drive By Truckers’ Patterson Hood. Like them, his music tends to be framed in a Southern sensibility, with an atmosphere that as times delivers temperatures above 90 degrees, and a humidity index seemingly well over 100. Millsap, like Hiatt and Hood, doesn’t write sappy love songs, nor are his “message” songs as unsubtle as a sucker punch. His songs are thoughtful, well-planned, and executed with care. That’s what makes his latest release so surprising.

Wilderness Within You, Millsap’s sixth record and perhaps his most ambitious, was created in the moment, with a focus on spontaneity and surprise. Made with producer Ryan McFadden, the record contains 13 songs, culled from a list of more than 40 that Millsap had in hand in various stages of completion. With a final song selection complete, the two moved to Hartland studios in Nashville and recruited a group of musicians (Ross McReynolds on drums, Calvin Knowles on bass, Juan Solorzano and Mark Sloan on guitar and pedal steel, Ryan Connors and Will Honaker on keys, Jake Botts on saxophone, and Daniel Foulks on fiddle) Millsap had never worked with before. The band was handed songs each day of recording and the result is a record of unusual pacing and clever nuances, filled with loop-driven sequences formed by Millsap’s taping of various waterways around the world and played as samples from a keyboard.

Parker Millsap, Wilderness Within You, album cover.

Copper caught up with Millsap to discuss the making of the record, how this new approach to recoding took form, what it was like to work with Gillian Welch, one of his idols, and where his thoughts are on a topic close to his heart: climate change.

Ray Chelstowski: Almost every piece I’ve read about you begins by saying that you are from Oklahoma. What do you think makes this so interesting for readers?

Parker Millsap: I’m not sure. I think that maybe it’s because a lot of people aren’t from Oklahoma, where it’s less-populated and there are fewer opportunities for musicians than places with way more density. But I also think it means that Oklahoma has retained a regional identity, which has kind of gone by the wayside in this highly connected world that we live in. I think that there’s something to be said about being a bit away from the hustle and bustle of things.

RC: Ryan McFadden played a significant role in the making of this new record. How were you introduced?

PM: He did a single for me two years ago that was part of a compilation. It was just the two of us recording in his home studio and it went really well. So, when I was looking to do a few demos of songs I had written, I hit him up for some help. Whenever we had time, which often was just a few days in a row, we’d get together and I’d play him a demo. We picked through 40 songs that were in various forms of completion. Some of them we made demos for at his house, and others were already demos that had been done that we thought were adequate. 

Once we identified which [songs] would make the record it was about finding the best way to bring them to life. At the time, I had been listening to a lot of jazz records and was really drawn to the spontaneity that they all have. I’m a songwriter, not a jazz guy, so we had to discuss how to give people space in my songs to improvise and be sure that we weren’t just wasting time in the studio. Ryan thought the best way to do that was to not give any of the musicians charts or send any of the music ahead of time. Instead, we just hired musicians and when they showed up we decided what songs to do that day. It ended up working really well and was very honest in a way.

RC: What criteria did Ryan use to help you pick songs?

PM: Thematically they all sort of pointed toward the same kind of cornerstones. They all seemed to be about the perception of time and awareness of the natural systems that are bigger than all of us, and wondering about our place in all of it.

RC: The musicians on this record are all new to you; you’d never played with them before. How did you know what roles were required, especially with, say, the saxophone?

PM: The saxophone in particular happened to be an overdub at Ryan’s house. After we built the song we added saxophone to the demo. Then the band played along to the demo and the song ended up being a blend of those three things. The main tracking band always included a keyboardist, drums, bass, and then a guy playing multiple instruments like pedal steel, and electric and acoustic guitar.

Parker Millsap. Courtesy of Melissa Madison Fuller.

RC: Did you always want Gillian Welch to duet with you on the title track?

PM: I wrote the song on my own and then I brought it to Ryan. He helped me with one of the verses. I had more verses but none of them felt right and he was able to find the right one. Ryan thought that it would be great if we added some harmonies to it and when he asked who I’d want to sing with the first name I said was “Gillian Welch.” Through my former manager we reached out to her and she said that she would love to participate. She only lives four or five miles from the studio where we were recording and we did about seven or eight takes and it was done. Then we spent the rest of our time together talking about Bob Dylan and trees.

RC: This was recorded at Hartland Studio in Nashville. What did the room allow for sonically?

PM: It used to be a warehouse for electrical parts. The live room has a burlap ceiling and is a big rectangle. We set up on one end of the room playing pretty close together because we were trying to go without headphones and use as much “live” [ambience] in the room as possible. Ryan ended up using omnidirectional mics a lot because the room is pretty dead and that allows you to handle some bleed and not let it get out of control.

RC: You played with tape-loop sequences on this record. What specifically did you create and how did it come together?

PM: There are a few different weird things we did on the record. There are field recordings and some loops that I had built on a little looper pedal that helped me with song transitions on my last few tours. I kept adding to the [loops] and then Ryan worked a bunch of these into the record. On “I’ll Be Around” the organ sound that you hear is a bunch of water recordings from a variety of places, mostly of various places in Costa Rica and Tennessee like waterfalls, rivers, ocean tides, and streams. I put them over each other, playing at the same time, and it created a white noise with motion. Ryan set everything at the same level on the EQ and moved it to a mini-keyboard where [we could] play [the] water sounds. It was a really fun day that began with wanting to create an organ sound, but by playing the water.

RC: The record has an unusual pacing. How did you settle on the final tracking?

PM: This is something that Ryan was heavily involved in. Everyone made their own track list and the record ended up being the closest to what Ryan had put together. What I really liked about his sequence was [that] it was kind of surprising, like the thing that you get next isn’t like what you just heard. I like that in records. Tom Waits is really good at doing that where it all feels like [it’s] of the same world but radically different from song to song.

RC: Climate change is an issue close to your heart. Do you feel encouraged?

PM: I feel like I have only just started to learn about this stuff. But what I’m trying to learn more about is how we get to more localized systems. It’s amazing that we can order things online and it can be here tomorrow but getting back to taking care of the land and our own future is probably how we have to move forward. So, I’m into ways that we can do things ourselves and stop relying on major corporations to do everything for us. It’s taken us a while to get to where we are and it’s going to take a while for us to get back to where we once were but I think we can do it.

Header image courtesy of Parker Millsap.

In Issue 186, I told you about a device I’d gotten that was reported to allow an SACD player’s HDMI output to send a native DSD signal to your DAC. The device was the TZT Digital Audio Interface, but as I told you last time, I couldn’t get it to work with my Yamaha SACD player. Sometime afterwards, I found a number of entries on threads on the web that stated that getting the device to work properly was entirely dependent on the SACD player, and it wouldn't work across the board with all of them.

I attempted to return the device to AliExpress, the Chinese company I ordered it from, but that ended up being a complete cluster. I pulled my hair out for weeks on end trying to negotiate with AliExpress and the seller to no end, and eventually filed a complaint with my credit card company. I thought that surely, at the worst, I’d get a credit on my card statement. But after weeks and weeks, my credit card company provided me with a letter filled with pages of bogus, half-truth info from the seller and AliExpress, and declined to make good on the charges. My loss was only about $55, but lesson learned – I’ll never order anything from AliExpress again. Ever!

I just spent almost an entire day finally sorting through boxes and containers in one of my upstairs closets that still hadn’t been unpacked since our move here to South Carolina. Those closets contain all my audio equipment boxes, cables, auxiliary gear, record supplies, overflow racks of CDs and Blu-rays, etc. As well as a table with my network gear and my digital library backup equipment – the room was a complete mess, and my wife Beth had been harping at me for weeks to straighten it out. While going through all the boxes, I ended up sorting everything into several piles to either pitch, recycle, or send to Goodwill. I stumbled onto the TZT Digital Audio Interface in its box, and immediately tossed it into the Goodwill pile, but ended up pulling it out to keep. If for no other reason, as a reminder of the debacle and to never order from an unproven online source again.

A Follow-Up on the Information I Received from Dalibor Kasac at Euphony Audio

I also mentioned in that last article that I’d gotten a series of emails from Dalibor Kasac, my contact at Euphony Audio in Croatia, telling me about a discovery they’d made about how delta-sigma chips from a certain prominent US manufacturer process native DSD. Also, that Euphony had gotten a couple of the new Topping E70 Velvet DACs that incorporate a pair of the newest generation of AKM chips (the AK4499 EX), and the AKM chips process native DSD very differently than those from the other manufacturers. They also noted that the DSD sound quality bettered that of the other guys in every possible way, and if I could possibly get my hands on one, I’d definitely be impressed.

I misinterpreted Dalibor’s explanation of the problem, thinking he meant the issue occurred when those chipsets processed native DSD via DoP (DSD over PCM). The problem is much more complicated, and my explanation from a couple of issues ago about how DoP played into the scenario was incorrect. Dalibor straightened me out and got me headed down the correct path, but by that point, my article had already been published. It was an unfortunate mistake, and several readers took issue with my assertions. All references to the misleading information were scrubbed from the article a couple of days after it went live. My apologies, but unraveling the intricacies of DSD is a bit more complicated than PCM – even when you’re staring at a schematic of the DAC chip's circuit.

The Topping E70 Velvet.

Jumping Through Hoops to get a Topping Review Sample

Dalibor had reached out to me in mid-February; I emailed Topping the same day, and it took about six weeks of jumping through hoops to get an E70 Velvet in house. Several days passed after I contacted Topping in China. I was then redirected to Apos Audio, their US distributor. Then several days passed before I was contacted by Apos, then about a week or so before I received a second contact from them, asking for samples of my published work. I provided them with links to multiple reviews from Copper, Positive Feedback, and Stereophile; then at least another week or so passed. I was sitting at my computer one afternoon when I happened to notice an instant message pop up from Howard Kneller (Copper, The Listening Chair, Sound & Vision). He asked if I’d reached out to Apos about getting a review sample of a DAC. They wanted him to verify that it was in fact Tom Gibbs contacting them, and not just some scam artist.

I confirmed to Howard that, yes, I had in fact reached out to them, and yes, I'm probably also a big-time scammer! Anyway, he gave me the necessary character reference (thanks, Howard!). A couple of weeks after that, I finally got an e-mail telling me that my request had been approved, and the DAC would be shipping to me within four weeks! I sent my contact at Apos, John, an e-mail asking, would it actually take four weeks? That seemed like an excessively long period of time, especially since it had already been at least five weeks since I had contacted them about getting a review sample. He told me no, that e-mail was essentially a “form” letter with “industry standard” language, and I’d be getting a tracking number within a day or so. Oh, and Apos was in the process of moving to new offices, so that might delay things a bit further. The E70 V finally arrived on March 30.

I’ve been writing for the audio trade for 20-plus years now, I maintain a fairly high profile, and I currently contribute regularly to a number of reputable audiophile web publications. I’ve also had reviews published in industry-standard print publications; one has the largest circulation of any audiophile magazine in the world. I don’t consider myself to be just some schmoe, and I’ve never had to put nearly as much effort into acquiring a review unit as I did with the Topping E70 Velvet. Literally 70 percent of the stuff I end up reviewing comes to me without any solicitation on my part.

I was describing how this all came down to an audio public relations professional recently, and she laughed, telling me that in her experience with Apos, they literally passed out review units like they were giving them to kids in a candy store. I like candy, but Howard Kneller then told me that Apos had apparently encountered a rash of unscrupulous individuals passing themselves off as “reviewers,” and that should explain their thoroughness in vetting me.

The beauty box for the E70 Velvet.

The Topping E70 Velvet Finally Arrives!

The E70 Velvet arrived encased in what the Chinese often refer to as a “beauty box”; it was probably the most elegant first impression of a product on this level I’ve ever experienced – such products typically show up in a rather plain and utilitarian cardboard box. I’ve seen this sort of thing from other Chinese manufacturers like Fiio, who tend to package their digital audio players and in-ear monitors in similarly impressive boxes. It’s a cultural phenomenon that we here in the US get little exposure to from American manufacturers, who tend to cut their costs at every point of the packaging process. The E70 V is available in either black or silver case finishes; my review sample arrived in black, and its appearance was both stylish and sophisticated.

The E70 Velvet is available in your choice of black or silver finish.

Included in the box was, of course, the E70 V, a 110V AC power cord, a USB cable, and a Bluetooth antenna. There was also a remote, which is small, but functionally well laid-out, and looks remarkably similar to the remotes supplied by Gustard – I’d bet they’re probably sourced from the same subcontractor. The box also included a printed manual and a warranty card. The manual was particularly useful, as the setup process is a bit less than intuitive. For the review, I used several cables I had on hand, including a Rite Audio HC power cable, as well as a Pangea Premier Silver USB cable. I attached the Bluetooth antenna, but never explored its functionality; I still believe – at this point, at least – that Bluetooth technology is half-baked in terms of audiophile quality sound.

The E70 Velvet didn’t budge, even with heavy audiophile cables attached.

The E70 V’s back panel is very well laid-out, and features a power switch, a standard IEC power input, inputs for a 12V trigger and pass-through, and the connection point for the Bluetooth antenna. Digital inputs include USB, coaxial, and optical; I only evaluated the unit using the USB input, which featured the highest level of file and bit-rate compatibility of the three choices. Analog outputs included a pair of single-ended coaxial jacks, and a pair of balanced XLR jacks. I evaluated the unit using the balanced connections. The outer case was substantial, with enough heft such that it didn’t move about or tilt backwards when all the cables were inserted (even the heavier aftermarket cables) – that’s always a nice feature! Fit and finish and construction detail were superb; the E70 V scores points on looks alone, and doesn’t appear at all to be a sub-$500 product. Upon turn-on, you’re greeted by a nicely-proportioned display, which allows you to see the sample rate of the file playing in really large characters that can easily be seen from across the room.

The E70 Velvet offers the usual selection of inputs and outputs found on a $450 DAC.

Setup of the E70 Velvet

As I mentioned earlier, proper setup of the E70 Velvet requires you to read the DAC’s relatively bare-bones manual, which will guarantee getting the best sound quality for high-end audio implementation. The E70 provides certain preamp functions like volume, input selection, and balance control, should you require them or choose to use them. As seems to be part of the current culture of small electronics in China, it appears the E70 V is as much directed at headphone users as it is for use as an audiophile DAC, and the preamp functions allow for easy integration with a headphone amp. That said, I'm using the E70 in an audio setup with a dedicated preamplifier, which makes those functions redundant, so I either disabled them, or simply didn’t use them during my evaluation, which was strictly for use of the E70 V as a digital-to-analog converter in a relatively high-end audiophile system.

The E70 Velvet actually uses a dual-AKM chip configuration that accomplishes digital filtering, delta-sigma modulation, and the digital-to-analog conversion functions. Those chips are responsible for the magic that gives the E70 V its sterling sound quality with native DSD files. The "Velvet" part of the E70 Velvet’s name comes from the use of a single AKM AK4191EQ chip, which is a digital data converter chip that separates the digital filtering and delta-sigma modulation processes prior to sending the music signal to a pair of flagship AK4499EXEQ chips for digital to analog conversion. AKM calls this trademarked process "VELVETSOUND.” VELVETSOUND minimizes the effects of digital noise in the analog output, and results in a significant improvement in the E70 Velvet’s signal-to-noise ratio. The process results in a dramatic improvement in sound quality, especially that of native DSD files. Based on my auditioning, this dual-chipset configuration establishes a new benchmark of precision, performance, and musicality, especially at the E70 V’s low price point.  

By turning off the E70 Velvet’s internal volume control, AKM’s dual-chip VELVETSOUND process allows digital filtering and delta-sigma modulation to take place without combining the native DSD signal with PCM. The native DSD signal is then presented to the digital to analog conversion stage unaltered.

I had made Robert Devcic of Euphony Audio aware of my plans for the E70 Velvet, and he informed me that I needed to make certain the unit’s volume control was definitely turned off. This has to do with the E70 V’s internal “magic” that gives it the edge over other delta-sigma DACs; turning the volume control “off” allows native DSD signals to pass through the AKM chipset without any conversion. Leaving the volume control “on” routes native DSD signals into the same path with PCM signals, converting them into a “shared language” that slightly diminishes the overall quality of native DSD playback. This was of paramount importance to me, because I personally consider DSD to be a superior playback format, and I have hundreds of DSD files in my digital library. While listening to DSD files was one of my main areas of focus while testing the E70 V, I also thoroughly evaluated its capabilities with PCM files of every available bit and sample rate.

With the rear-panel power switch turned on, the E70 V remains in standby; you then have to either turn the power on from the front panel’s multi-function touch button or with the remote. You’re then greeted by the really nicely-proportioned display, which is huge compared to other DACs I’ve encountered in this price range. To enter the setup menu, first turn off the rear-panel power switch, then press the front-panel volume knob and turn on the power switch. The volume knob is now a multi-function selector, and allows you to rotate through the menu choices. These include the display function (always on or auto-on) and brightness level, output level (4V or 5V, I chose 5V to match the output of the Gustard X26 Pro), choice of PCM digital filter (I chose the default), the various internal preamp options like channel balance and volume control (which I set to off), and selections for Bluetooth use (I also set this to off). You then press and hold the volume knob until “8-8” appears on screen, indicating that the E70 V is now set up and has saved your selections. You can also accomplish the setup routine using the supplied remote.

Use and Listening Tests

I’d been working on a review for the German-made Naiu Laboratory Ella Mark 3 power amplifier for Positive Feedback; you can read my published review here. I inserted the Topping E70 Velvet into my system midstream in that review process to try and replicate Dalibor Kasac’s positive impressions of a $450 DAC – while it was playing into a system that included an $11,000 amplifier. The $450 Topping E70 Velvet was used alongside my current digital setup that includes a Gustard X26 Pro DAC ($1,500 MSRP) and a Gustard C18 Constant Temperature clock unit ($1,600 MSRP). The Gustard combo sells for almost 9 times the cost of the E70 Velvet! I thought it would be interesting and instructive to compare the sound quality of the lower-cost Topping unit to that of the more highly-pedigreed Gustard setup.

My digital system is fully balanced; the PS Audio Stellar Gain Cell preamplifier provides system control, and the digital input chain is fed by a dual-box streaming setup that includes the Euphony Summus and Endpoint units. The Euphony equipment is built around their own Stylus operating system, which handles library management, music playback, and streaming. The Euphony gear streams the digital signal to the Gustard X26 Pro DAC via an i2S connection; a 10 MHz BNC connection shares the signal with the Gustard C18 external clock. Stereo balanced outputs on the Gustard DAC send the analog signal to the preamplifier, which in turn feeds the Naiu Lab Ella amplifier, which is connected to a pair of Magneplanar LRS+ loudspeakers with an REL subwoofer. It’s a fairly elegant digital playback system.

Adding the Topping E70 Velvet seemed at first to be a step backwards; the unit doesn’t feature either i2S or BNC connections, so a comparison between the Topping and Gustard units doesn’t at first appear to be apples-to-apples. The only option for such a comparison is to use the ubiquitous USB connection between the Euphony equipment and the E70 V; you can’t use what I’ve come to believe is the industry standard with i2S and an external clock. But USB has come a long way, and the USB capabilities of the E70 V either match or exceed those of the Gustard X26 Pro.

My main thrust for this review was playback of DSD files, including the hundreds of DSD64 rips from my collection of SACDs, as well as DSD downloads across a range of DSD64, DSD128, and DSD256 rates. I also listened to countless sources of PCM files, many of which were 16-bit/44.1 kHz rips from my collection of compact discs, along with rips of DVD-Audio and Blu-ray discs at 24-bit/96 kHz and 24-bit/192 kHz, as well as some 32 bit/384 kHz DXD downloads. Throughout the process, I continually compared A-to-B back-and-forth between the Topping E70 V and the Gustard X26 Pro/C18 combo. I listen to a very broad range of music of all genres, including classic jazz, jazz vocals, folk, classical, chamber music, opera, rock (including alternative, classic rock, and progressive rock), and even some metal, rap, and country/bluegrass. While I lean towards acquiring higher sample and bit rate files for my library, I’ve found that in my day-to-day listening, I generally get as much pleasure from a rip of a CD as I do from a much higher resolution file. High-resolution files generally hold up better for critical listening, but the vast majority of my digital music library contains 16-bit/44.1 kHz rips of my CD collection, outnumbering all other file sources by about 7-to-1 overall.

I listened to countless albums over the evaluation process, far too many to detail my impressions of each in a Topping versus Gustard scenario. But I did observe particular trends over the time spent comparing the two setups.

Topping vs. Gustard With DSD Files

The Topping E70 Velvet is the clear winner here. It bettered the much more expensive Gustard X26 Pro/C18 combo in every possible way with DSD files of every provenance. The dual AKM chips provide a clear path in their processing of native DSD that allows it to proceed through the DAC unaltered, with the only exception being the conversion from digital to analog. At the point when the AKM fire happened three years ago, a lot of folks online bemoaned the lack of availability of AKM chips, which I’d never heard at the time, in any implementation. I now fully understand their despair; the AKM chips are undoubtedly the very best available, especially in terms of how they process DSD playback.

Constantly comparing between the Gustard setup (which is nearly nine times more expensive) and the Topping unit revealed that the E70 V produced a sound that not only had greater levels of transparency and clarity, but was overall much more musical than the Gustard setup. And the DSD files as played through the Topping exhibited a much more pronounced stereo image, and helped my system project a much greater illusion of reality during playback. Not even the addition of the Gustard C18 master clock, which more than doubled its MSRP, provided the kind of improvement to its overall musicality to give it any kind of advantage over the $450 Topping E70 V.

When playing DSD files, the sound from the E70 V was lusher, richer, and much more analog-like than what I heard from the Gustard setup. There was an added measure of magic that was present during playback from the E70 V that was simply missing from the Gustard combo. I’d definitely attribute that to the more straightforward path the AKM chips use to handle DSD vs. the other guys. You know, sometimes less really is more! When Dalibor Kasac of Euphony Audio first emailed me about this, I was incredulous that it might even be possible, but trust me, hearing is definitely believing.

Topping vs. Gustard With PCM Files

I definitely gave the edge to the Gustard X26 Pro/C18 combo here. While the Topping E70 Velvet acquitted itself very well playing PCM files, there was a role-reversal of sorts that resulted in the same kind of playback improvement for the Gustard combo with PCM files that I witnessed with the Topping unit and DSD files. I mostly attribute that to the addition of the Gustard C18 master clock; there was a greater level of midrange liquidity and high frequency sparkle, improved transparency, and greater realism with PCM files as played through the Gustard setup vs. the Topping E70 V. That was especially true with CD-quality rips, which almost approached the level of higher-resolution files when played through the Gustard combo. As noted, the duo is significantly more expensive and overbuilt compared to the E70 V, so it’s no surprise that the Topping unit couldn’t match the Gustard’s overall sound quality with PCM files.

One other thing with regard to PCM playback with the Gustard: it’s MQA-capable. Those in the audiophile world who are vested in MQA are doubtless unhappy with the recent events surrounding MQA’s financial troubles, and the end may be in sight for the nascent audio format. That said, at the point when I made the request for a review sample of the Topping E70 V, I didn’t notice that it wasn’t equipped for MQA decoding and playback. That’s not a deal breaker for me, because at that point, I didn’t have a Tidal streaming account, and I didn’t have a single MQA file in my library.

Of course, the minute I delve into MQA, they file for administration!

But in the protracted period it took to get a review sample, I decided to order a Japanese MQA-enabled compact disc of the Yes album Drama. It happens to be one of their albums that hasn’t been remixed or remastered by Steven Wilson, and probably won’t be. I mainly ordered it to take a serious listen to the MQA format for the very first time. After getting the disc and ripping it to MQA-enabled FLAC files, I then attempted to play it back over the Topping E70 V. I could only get 44.1 kHz PCM to display on the unit’s front panel, and after an hour of consternation, I started digging online and discovered that the E70 V is not, in fact, MQA-enabled.

How I missed that, I’m not completely sure, and whether Topping had some advance warning that MQA as such might be going away soon is an unknown. Regardless, I then routed playback of the MQA-enabled files through the Gustard setup, and I thought Drama sounded really great – maybe even better than I’d ever heard, other than perhaps the LP version. I liked it so very much that I ordered the MQA CDs for the Yes albums Tormato and 90125. The day after placing my order, the news hit that MQA had filed for administration, which in the EU is similar to a bankruptcy restructuring in the US. Talk about bad timing! YMMV, and you may (pretty much like me) not have any deep-rooted feelings regarding MQA, but if MQA is an itch you have to scratch, the E70 Velvet can’t assist you in that area!

Conclusion

When dealing with high-end audio gear, I’ve often found that a fairly substantial investment in equipment has to be made to achieve a relatively minimal improvement in overall sound quality. That simply is not the case with the Topping E70 Velvet and its ability to render DSD sound with a level of detail, clarity, and musicality that DACs I’ve heard at nearly 10 times its price point can’t match. The Topping is an exceptionally well-made unit, and the dual-AKM chipset implementation is clearly the principal reason for its impressive performance. This gives me pause to reconsider how the price point of high-end audio equipment should relate to sound quality. The Topping E70 Velvet DAC doesn’t cost an arm and a leg, but sounds like a million bucks, and it comes very highly recommended.

All images courtesy of Topping, Apos Audio, and the author.

The Cassette is Back! Or is It? – An Investigation, Part One

As is the wont of half-informed mainstream newspaper and lifestyle journalists – primarily when dealing with specialist subjects – the torrent of articles about the return of the cassette (at least, in the UK) is as overblown, melodramatic and ill-advised as one might expect. So taken were such writers by the Vinyl Revival of the last decade or so and how the articles about it all but wrote themselves, e.g., enabling them to parrot sales figures in a gosh-wow voice, that they’re doing it again. But it ain’t the same thing – not even remotely. 

As much as I and a handful others have been praising the virtues of open-reel tape, and how it still inarguably annihilates all other formats, not one of us has suggested that it will return to commercial viability – not ever. It is a quasi-revival which, despite the availability of brand-new high-end hardware and tape offerings, is so small that even calling it a niche seems hyperbolic.

No apologies need be made, because it harms no one, while it is as esoteric as any hobby which I can imagine. The realities say it all. The only affordable way to indulge in open-reel is via the second-hand route, which has pitfalls already dealt with in this series, and many people prefer not to experience the risks inherent in the purchase of used tapes or decks. It requires a certain hardiness bordering on the masochistic.

That leaves us with the new. All-new reel-to-reel hardware available as of 2023 is so expensive that even those of us inured to the beyond-insane prices of audiophile cables or cartridges, let alone components like amps or speakers, suck in one’s breath when learning of, say, a playback-only/single-speed/half-track deck for $40,000-plus. (How’s that for a specification which kinda narrows down its usefulness and/or appeal?) Even revived machines are costly, with $5,000 – $10,000 not uncommon for a restored TEAC or Technics deck. And then there’s a company offering a refurbished deck for $100,000-plus. Yes, a hundred grand. And I don't mean some wildly coveted Studer or Ampex or Lyrec eight-track studio dream, but a domestic deck bathed in bling.

As for the tapes…f*ck me: $300 for a pre-recorded open-reel by someone of whom I have never heard? I don't think so. On the other hand, I know a couple of reel-to-reel converts with pockets deep enough to indulge in such questionable tapes. I just hope there are enough of these super-rich tape fans to keep these labels in business. And the cost of blank tapes? Don’t ask.

Aside from the proselytizing voices bellowing about unmatchable sound quality (e.g., me), most open-reel fanatics try to remain mature and realistic, admitting that reel-to-reel tape today is even less viable than film cameras or Edwardian-era cars, if not quite as hair shirt as typewriters. We are a cult so small that – blessedly – its existence has escaped the very hacks who are now celebrating the Second Coming of Cassettes. But disappointed they probably will be; here’s where this kvetching Cassandra enters.

A Technics RS-615 stereo cassette deck circa 1977, typical of the uncountable numbers of home decks made from the mid-1970s through the late 1990s. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Norbert Schnitzler.

First, a caveat: I am no Nostradamus, and still suffer embarrassment at declaring in an interview in 2007 or so that vinyl will forever remain a special-interest topic of no real market worthiness. I am delighted to have been proven utterly wrong, however self-abnegating and/or contradictory that might sound, because I am a lover of the vinyl LP. But equally I am a miserable, lifelong pessimist whose glass isn’t merely half-full, it’s cracked and leaking.

In direct opposition to what I am about to write concerning the so-called return of the cassette, I would start with this example from the UK’s Daily Mail, with its readership of two million in a country of 60 million, and generally rated as in the Top Five for circulation. We are not talking about a local rag. Last month, its Deputy Showbiz News Editor Emma Powell wrote an item headlined, “First A Vinyl Revival, Now A Cassette Comeback.”

As I noted above, there’s a distinct failure to understand that the two “comebacks” are not even remotely the same. Before looking at her remarks and those of another Millennial-ish writer for the influential and intellectual political magazine, The Spectator, I will try to explain why this headline is so far off the mark.

We’ve all accepted that open-reel has no more of a chance of a return than VHS tapes or bloodletting, but audiophiles and the plethora of DJs around the world exist to remind such pundits that the revival was possible because vinyl never went away. At no time since CD reached the world after its launch in Japan in 1982, there hasn’t been a single day when you couldn't buy turntables or LPs. Yes, the market had shrunk, cassettes having cut into it even before CDs arrived thanks to in-car and personal player (i.e., Walkman) usage, but LPs and the hardware on which to play them never disappeared.

Portable, yes. High fidelity? Ummm, well...a RadioShack CTR-119 cassette tape recorder, year unknown. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Evan-Amos.

Here it gets contentious, because some individuals in the audiophile community probably want to declare its role in the LP’s return as supreme, but I believe that the club DJ/house music sector was far more important in maintaining vinyl production, if not necessarily that of turntables, phono stages, cartridges, etc. Whatever the facts, audiophile labels including Mobile Fidelity and Analogue Productions never ceased LP production, nor did reissue labels such as Sundazed. That meant a steady flow of new records to feed one’s habit, though brand-new mainstream releases were sparse. 

As for hardware, I cannot recall a single period during vinyl’s “downtime” when VPI, SME, Rega, Clearaudio, Transrotor, Linn or a few dozen others weren’t just making new decks, they were also introducing new models and continuing to refine the technology. The elements of the record playback front end never stopped evolving.

Even more impressive are two elements of the LP revival which the cassette rebirth has yet to experience, and probably never will: the hunger for vinyl gave us a host of new turntables from companies formed long after CD arrived, most notably Pro-Ject on a massive scale, and brands such as TechDAS, Reed, Dohmann Audio, Continuum Audio Labs, OMA (Oswalds Mill Audio), E.A.T. (European Audio Team) and others in the high-end. New cartridges and tonearms followed, including DS Audio’s optical cartridges, Graham Engineering and Reed tonearms and too many more to list.

But back to the cassette – and I write this as the owner of four full-sized domestic decks, two Sony Walkman Pro models and a box full of dead personal players, as well as a library of over 1,200 pre- and home-recorded tapes. What those enamored of its hoped-for return are ignorant of are basic elements and facts.

A much better choice: a Denon DRM-550 deck. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Norbert Schnitzler.

Foremost is appreciating that the cassette’s ONLY virtues were the costs relative to the only other recordable media of the day, i.e., reel-to-reel tape, and the undeniable convenience. As for the first, the arrival of recordable CD and computer-based recording capability, as well as USB sticks and MP3 recorders/players, negated any of the benefits of cassettes as a recording system. As for the second – convenience – this, too, was demolished by CD.

Conversely, what the non-technical or merely ill-informed star-struck cassette evangelists ignore completely are the two worst, what-should-have-killed-it-at-birth aspects of the cassette. Dismissing the first is easy: they were cheap and nasty and therefore unreliable. Even those who understood tape and things like cleaning the heads and pinch-rollers, the need to demagnetize heads, and other maintenance chores, experienced the unspooling of tapes in their machines. Moreover, I cannot name a less-durable format for usage outside of the relative safety of the home, unless you want to be reminded of the horror that was 8-track tape.

But it’s the second failing of cassettes which I suspect matter more to audiophiles, Copper readers, musicians and grown-ups per se. In essence, this format, which was devised for recording interviews and reportage and not necessarily as a music format, was inherently mediocre-sounding. No, make that truly-sh*tty-sounding. Those of us old enough to remember the first machines know I am not exaggerating.

From the outset, when the music industry decided to champion the cassette as a pre-recorded playback format (but later regretting it and creating such campaigns as “Home Recording Is Killing Music”), the hardware manufacturers devoted tens of thousands of man- (or, rather, person-) hours coming up with fixes – not unlike what happened with CD.

Just as DACs, sampling rates, jitter reduction and other elements have evolved since 1983 to render digital tolerable, so did the cassette beg aftermarket improvements to turn a sow’s ear into a burlap, if never quite a silk purse. Stay tuned.

Header image courtesy of Pixabay.com/Bru-nO.

Presto 1-D and 1-C cutter heads are frequently encountered on our lab bench for repair and restoration. Some are just regular repairs to bring them back to original spec, others are rewound to operate at a different impedance, but some undergo more comprehensive and exciting modifications!

We have previously examined modifications where a feedback system was added to a Neumann MS-52H and an Audax R-56 cutter head. This time, we shall discuss adding feedback to a Presto 1-D, which arrived with damaged coils.

The Presto 1-D consists of a horseshoe magnet, laminated pole pieces, two drive coils, an armature pivoted on a knife-edge bearing, a set of springs, and a large damper. 

The iron armature is quite large and heavy, which is the biggest limiting factor in the performance of the Presto 1-C and 1-D, both of which use the same armature design.

The first step was to machine new coil formers, to accept the new coil assembly that uses feedback as a means of accomplishing more accurate disk cutting.

This took some delicate machining on our 1930s Lorch precision optical lathe, as the wall thickness of the formers is only a small fraction of a millimeter! Thin-wall micromachining has been the subject of several research projects in the fields of mechanical engineering and industrial manufacturing processes for several decades now, due to the challenges it presents. Features with a wall thickness under 1 mm and a height-to-thickness ratio larger than 5 are generally considered particularly difficult to machine. In these coil formers, the height to thickness ratio is around 30, while tight geometric and dimensional tolerances had to be maintained!

The machined formers were then taken to our precision milling machine to drill the tiny holes for the wires to enter and exit the former.

After cleaning and inspecting, a pair of tiny coil formers were selected and brought to our coil-winding machine for the winding operations.

The completed coils were then varnished for stability and assembled into position.

The armature needed to be properly adjusted, and various performance tests could then be conducted to verify that the transducer operated as initially mathematically calculated, under the new feedback configuration.

This modified version shall now be called the Presto 1-DA. It is currently in active service at Epos Laboratories (https://www.instagram.com/eposlab/) in Greece.

Further information, measurements and a mathematical analysis will appear as part of a research paper, to be published in due course.

Many of these feedback techniques originate from the research and development efforts at Agnew Analog Reference Instruments over the past couple of years, towards the design of a new stereophonic cutter head.

This article originally appeared on the Agnew Analog Reference Instruments blog and is used by permission.

All images courtesy of Agnew Analog Reference Instruments.

It’s never easy to photograph something that’s black and shiny. Linn’s Majik DSM streaming integrated amplifier with built-in digital-to-analog converter (from $4,185) is no exception to that rule. It’s a gorgeous example of the minimalist school of design, and it presented me with an enticing photographic challenge.

Aside from Majik DSM’s high-resolution, monochromatic TFT display, which is invisible when turned off, its stark front panel includes only a few sleek buttons, a 1/4-inch headphone jack, and the words “Linn Majik DSM” in small lettering. Luckily, Majik DSM’s top panel includes a photogenic series of heat vents and the Linn name and logo. Also, the DSM’s rear-panel connectors provided an opportunity to capture some additional physical details.

To rely on somewhat trite phrasing, the Majik DSM sounds like it looks, i.e., clean. Distortion and other unwanted artifacts simply seem to be missing in action. Though when I finally finished the difficult job of photographing the DSM, I promised myself that my next subject would be a sonically noisier, but easier to shoot tube amp.

The Majik's heat sinks add a distinctive design element.

The Majik is an all-in-one component...just connect it to the internet and add speakers.

The Majik can also accommodate a variety of music sources. 

Howard Kneller’s audiophile adventures are documented on his YouTube channel (The Listening Chair with Howard Kneller) and on Instagram (@howardkneller). His art and photography can also be found on Instagram (@howardkneller.photog). Finally, he posts a bit of everything on Facebook (@howardkneller).

I have to think that most our readers are familiar with the concept of “Desert Island Discs.” The premise is to make a list of albums (usually 10) that one would take if stranded on a desert island, forsaking all others (assuming, of course, that there was a sustainable means of playback for said albums).

For me, and many others, it is a daunting task – paring one’s collection to the 10 core works of musical art that could, hopefully, satisfy one over the remaining years. I would prefer to be given the option of creating 10 album-length compilations, therefore providing a much wider range of performances, but that’s cheating.

What if, instead of 10 discs, you could only take one? Are there any albums in your collection that could hold up over innumerable repeat plays, one that would provide lasting satisfaction the rest of your life? I’ve thought about it, and I think I have a few that, for my musical tastes, would qualify. I surprised myself, in that, despite the fact that progressive rock is my favorite genre, my selections do not include any in that style, nor are the candidates any of the influential albums from my youth. In this article I will focus on the second of those choices. The first, Bellybutton, by Jellyfish, was featured in Issue 181.

I think that, for me, to hold up under such challenging conditions, an album would have to incorporate the following elements: 1) a reasonably wide variety of moods and styles, 2) arrangements that are complex and interesting, and 3) high-quality engineering and production sufficient to satisfy my audiophile idiosyncrasies. A lot of records would qualify if two out of three were enough, but all three?

 Midge Ure, Answers to Nothing, album cover.

Another album that checks all the boxes for me is Answers to Nothing, the second solo outing by the Scottish artist Midge Ure. I don’t expect that many of you are familiar with him, but he is one of my favorite rock vocalists (and no slouch as a multi-instrumentalist). Ure has a powerful, expressive voice that reminds me of a smoother version of Bono (U2). His given name is James, and he originally went by Jim. He got the name Midge as a result of being in a band with another Jim. Looking to avoid confusion with two members having the same first name, Jim was turned around to “Mij” and spelled phonetically as Midge. The name has stuck throughout a long and varied career.

He had a small amount of success in England in the 1970s with his band Silk, but it wasn’t until he was a member of new wave act Visage (fronted by vocalist Steve Strange) that he found recognition in the States. In the interim, he had turned down an offer from Malcolm McLaren to be the lead vocalist for the Sex Pistols! After Visage, he toured briefly as a member of Thin Lizzy (playing guitar and keyboards), and then became the front man for Ultravox. Ure led that band to a much greater level of success than its earlier incarnation (with lead vocalist John Foxx). Ultravox keyboardist Billy Currie had also been a member of Visage. Ure also co-wrote and produced the Band Aid charity song “Do They Know It’s Christmas?”

After Ultravox disbanded, Midge embarked on a solo career. His first album, The Gift, reached #2 on the UK charts, and had a #1 single in “If I Was.” He played guitars, keyboards, and electronic drums, relying minimally on a few other musicians on certain tracks. The album included a cover of the Jethro Tull song “Living in the Past.”

Answers to Nothing was, to my ears, a giant leap forward. Gone were the electronic drums, replaced by a rich mix of real drums and assorted acoustic percussion instruments. He again performed the bulk of the keyboards and guitars, with assistance on bass from Mark King (Level 42) and Mick Karn (Japan), and drums by Mark Brzezicki (Big Country). Brzezicki’s brother Steve also contributed bass on some tracks.

The album opens with the title track, a heartfelt takedown of false prophets offering empty hope.

“Take Me Home” expresses yearning for a return to the place of his childhood.

“Sister and Brother” is a duet with Kate Bush. I’ll admit I have mixed feelings about her vocal style, which strikes me as ranging from smooth to shrill.

The most famous song from the album is “Dear God,” which was a minor hit for Midge. The song is a questioning prayer asking for more goodness in the world.

“Just for You” is a bouncy number that tells of the things he would do for the one he loves.

Midge adds a slinky fretless bass to his arsenal of instruments on “Hell to Heaven.” Again, he is wondering why there is so much sadness and suffering in this world.

Anger at betrayal is the theme of “Lied.”

“Homeland” combines spacey atmospherics with a lot of percussion and a guitar solo reminiscent of the playing of Robert Fripp.

The album’s rich arrangements, crisp production, and overall clean sound serve the songs well. If I had to, I could live with just this album for a long time.

Bonus Videos:

This is the official video for Ure’s earlier hit, “If I Was.” Note the contrast in instrumentation and production quality compared to the tracks on Answers to Nothing.

To end on a high note, here’s a stellar live performance of “Dear God” at the 1988 concert for Nelson Mandela’s birthday. The cooking band includes a horn section and two drummers, one of whom is Phil Collins.

Header image: publicity photo courtesy of Chuffmedia.com.

Everything changes. But that doesn’t mean you can’t fight the tide. That’s what Alan Jackson has done since the 1990s, finding massive success as a songwriter who refuses to let old-school country music die out. Jackson is considered the father of “neotraditional country,” but he was just holding onto the country music he grew up with, and his campaign against the soaking of country with pop sounds and techniques hit all the right notes for a lot of people.

Born in 1958 near Atlanta, Georgia, Jackson loved gospel music and the classic country style of George Jones and Loretta Lynn while also embracing the next generation’s sounds from Hank Williams, Jr. and John David Anderson. He moved to Nashville in his late 20s, and a few years later became a member of the Grand Ole Opry. He has collaborated closely with George Strait and fellow neotraditional artist Randy Travis. “Keep it Country” has long been his semi-official slogan.

Jackson made his solo debut in 1990 for Arista Records, the first of nearly two dozen albums he’s recorded so far. Here in the Real World took off with a bang, gaining him his first No. 1 hit, “I’d Love You All Over Again.”

Among the album’s strengths are its session musicians, Nashville nobility like upright bassist Roy Husky, Jr., pianist Hargus “Pig” Robbins, and steel guitarist Paul Franklin. Another selling point was Jackson’s original songs, each in its way a tribute to the classic country he loved. And then there’s his voice and delivery, a clear tenor with a detailed control of dynamics and phrasing unusual for his genre. A good example is “Dog River Blues.” 

“Chattahoochee” and “She’s Got the Rhythm (And I Got the Blues)” were the two most successful of the five hit singles from A Lot About Livin’ (and a Little ʼbout Love), released in 1992. The album itself reached the top of the country charts. Its title song was Jackson’s first of several songwriting collaborations with Randy Travis.

Besides writing over half the album himself, Jackson picked a few numbers by colleagues. Among those is “She Likes It Too,” by Zach Turner and Tim Nichols. It’s one of those country songs about…country songs. These days we’d call it “meta,” but the trope has been around for ages.

By this point, it seemed Jackson could not take a wrong step. Four of the singles from his 1994 album Who I Am topped the charts. It’s significant that two of the hits from Everything I Love (1996) were covers of classic country tunes from two previous generations: Tom T. Hall’s “Little Bitty” and Charly McClain’s “Who’s Cheatin’ Who.” Jackson had his audience right where he wanted them, appreciating his forebears.

Also from Everything I Love is “Walk on the Rocks” by John E. Swaim, who doesn’t seem to have written a lot, although there are two songs by him on a Clinton Kyle album. Pig Robbins’ barroom piano sound and Stuart Duncan’s mournful fiddle line are the ideal heartbreaking touches to this father-son ballad.

On Under the Influence (1999), Jackson doubled down on his commitment to the neotraditionalist creed, creating a whole album of covers from decades past. In the wrong hands this could have been career suicide – pop music had never been more prevalent in country than it was that year, thanks to the likes of Tim McGraw and his wife, Faith Hill. But Jackson’s fans loved what he loved, country’s roots; Under the Influence did extremely well for a cover album.

The veterans being paid homage to include Nat Stuckey, Crystal Gayle, Charley Pride, Johnny Paycheck, and Don Williams. Merle Haggard is represented by a couple of songs: “My Own Kind of Hat” (written by Haggard) and “The Way I Am” (by Sonny Throckmorton).

A song in response to 9/11, “Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning” became Jackson’s biggest hit. It was included on the 2002 album Drive, whose title song also hit No. 1.

Although Drive was produced by Keith Stegall, whom he’d worked with many times before, the album finds Jackson allowing in more pop-music sounds than he had in the past. But he can hardly be said to have abandoned country traditions; he just blends them with an updated sensibility. “Bring on the Night,” with its delicate mandolin counterpoint by Stuart Duncan, is a good illustration.

Jackson explored the jazz-tinged smoothness of adult contemporary rock and the coziness of neo-folk on 2006’s Like a Red Rose. He asked fiddler/singer Allison Krauss to both produce it and choose which songs to include. Only one of them was by Jackson, “A Woman’s Love,” a new arrangement of a track he had recorded 15 years before.

Krauss’ choices must have been quite challenging for Jackson to sing. The styles represented are well out of his wheelhouse. He does an admirable job by not trying to be something he’s not, but rather lets the songs themselves and the expert musicians around him carry the stylistic burden.

It’s partly thanks to acoustic guitarist Ron Block, who seems to be channeling Cat Stevens, that “The Firefly’s Song” is so solid.

As if as a counterbalance to Like a Red Rose, Jackson delved into pre-country styles for The Bluegrass Album (2013). In typical fashion, he brought in a great support team, this time featuring fiddler Tim Crouch, banjo player Sammy Shelor, and dobro player Rob Ickes. (There’s something delightful in the fact that this album was mastered by a man named Hank Williams; no relation, of course, although he once mastered a Hank Williams, Jr. recording.)

Rather than make his first bluegrass album a collection of covers, as one might expect, Jackson wrote half of the tracks himself. He does not try to imitate the greats like Bill Monroe (whose “Blue Moon of Kentucky” closes the album). Jackson’s “Blue Ridge Mountain Song” demonstrates his distinctive amalgam of neotrad country and the textures and harmonies of bluegrass.

Jackson’s most recent album is Where Have You Gone, released in 2021. It’s nostalgic and bittersweet, harking back to the sounds of his early records. There is, unfortunately, a reason he might be feeling particularly nostalgic about his past. For many years, Jackson has battled an incurable neurological disorder called Charcot-Marie Tooth (CMT) disease, a fact that he announced publicly in 2021 when he released this latest record. Although CMT is not fatal, it is progressive and has started to affect his ability to play and tour. He’s not calling it quits yet, though, declaring to the press, “I’ll try to do as much as I can.”

Whatever he does, you know he’ll be keeping it country.

Header image: Alan Jackson publicity photo, courtesy of UMG Nashville.com.