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Issue 58

Issue 58

Issue 58

Leebs

Welcome to Copper #58!

Every May I wonder how the phrase "May Day" became a distress call. Now I know---and it's a disappointingly mundane explanation. Sometimes everyday life is so...everyday.

Our friend Rudy Radelic brings us more coverage of Axpona. Rudy covers some of the many areas I missed...and provides far better pics. Time for a new camera, Leebs!

Dan Schwartz’s interview with legendary promoter/raconteur Rikki Farr concludes here, covering the Isle of Wight Festival, acting, boxing, and much more.

Larry Schenbeck goes off the farm a bit with a look at a local record store; Dan Schwartz has such spilkies over his audio system yet again; Richard Murison  writes about DeVriend's Beethoven cycle, and the kind folks at Native DSD offer discounts on downloads of the cycleJay Jay French continues his series on his guitar influences, with Keith Richards,Chuck Berry,and---Mike Kagan?!? Roy Hall  learns that when the boat is rocking....  Anne E. Johnson brings us indie singer/songwriter Heather Maloney; Woody Woodward looks back at Hoagy Carmichael; and I look at dueling audio shows and legendary '60s manufacturer Hadley Labs. Anne also writes about Schubert's Die Schöne Müllerin  in Something Old/Something New.

Industry News brings some surprise news from the analog world coming from SME and Shure, as well as the latest chapter of the endless saga of Gibson Brands .

Copper #58 concludes with another look at the tough world of audio sales from Charles Rodrigues, and a Parting Shot from  the desert by Paul McGowan.

Thanks for reading, and see you next issue!

Cheers, Leebs.


A Tale of Two Shows

A Tale of Two Shows

A Tale of Two Shows

Bill Leebens

It was the best of times…

Scrap that.

I’ve written about my friend and mentor Richard Beers several times, starting ‘way back in Copper #7. While I despise the lingua franca of biz-speak, it would be accurate to say that there was a “power vacuum” in the audio show biz following his death. And, as always…nature abhors a vacuum (oops—apparently, I’ve said that before…).

To condense events that unfolded over many months: THE Show Newport was held June 3-5, 2016, and was the first Newport show following Richard’s passing. Most of the show-wrangling was handled by Richard’s former assistant, Marine Presson. By all accounts—including our own and that of Stereophile—the show was a success.

While at the show I heard reports that a group of local audiophiles/business folk were discussing the idea of a new and different LA-area audio show. There were rumblings that the Hotel Irvine had deemed the audiophile clientele of the show beneath their standards of beauty and spending (go figure), and that the hotel would opt out of its contract. If THE Show were to continue, it wouldn’t be at the Hotel Irvine.

In September of 2016, the new L.A. Audio Show (LAAS) was announced for June, 2017, sponsored by the LA-Orange County Audio Society, backed by financiers the Orion Group, with Marine running things. Meanwhile, THE Show, headed by Richard’s friend Maurice Jung, scheduled a show for Anaheim in September, 2017. I recently rehashed this history, and so won’t dwell upon the details too much.

Long story short: The LAAS held their first show near LAX, with generally lukewarm reports from both exhibitors and attendees. Exhibitors commented at length upon logistical issues, light attendance, and navigational nightmares which left major exhibits from Harman and Sony almost unseen. In early September, 2017, THE Show was canceled only weeks before the scheduled date, largely due to the illness of Richard Beers’ friend and heir, Beverly Harber. Beverly passed away that November.

Beverly’s death was sad, but the community consensus was that THE Show was gone for good, eliminating the dueling-show mess in LA, and leaving LAAS to stand alone. LAAS was announced for June 8-10, 2018, to be held at the Orange County Hilton that had once hosted THE Show. Simple, right?

Wrong.

THE Show announced that they would be back, the week before the LAAS, June 1-3, also in an Irvine hotel. The audio community was not pleased, and many vowed to stay away from both shows, let them slug it out, and side with the eventual winner. Most placed their bets on LAAS.

As Patriots fans know, sure things don’t always win. On April 18, 2018, Marine sent out a rambling, contentious email under the heading “Personal Note From Marine at LAAS” in which she stated that “…the LA Audio Show is mine and mine alone to steer towards collective success.” With indications of persecution and a spiritual awakening of sorts, the collective response of the audio community was, “what the hell was THAT?”

Two weeks to the day later, on May 2, Marine sent out an even more-peculiar email headed, “An Open Letter to the Industry. LAAS Cancelled.” You can read the full text here, and I’ll let you draw your own conclusions. Oh: if you click on the picture of Marine flashing deuces, you can read even more. And maybe even order a t-shirt.

On May 3, little else was spoken of in the industry, and THE Show wasted no time in pitching their show to those abandoned by LAAS.

If you’re interested in more details of the whole string of events, our friend Jason Victor Serinus wrote a thorough and fair account; Michael Fremer also wrote about the situation, with a classically prickly-Mikey take on it.

We’ll see how THE Show does. I have a feeling this bizarre story is far from over.


Why Doesn't My System Sound Better? Part 2

Why Doesn't My System Sound Better? Part 2

Why Doesn't My System Sound Better? Part 2

Dan Schwartz

About half a year ago, in Copper #45, I wrote a bit about my system, and the seemingly neurotic doubts it aroused in me.

Well, OK — not seemingly. I wouldn’t be a true audiophile if I didn’t experience the periodic, gnawing urge to somehow make it better. But I do remember a time when I was incredibly satisfied with the system. It was a few years ago, when things were a little different at my house. The changes are not for the better, sonically. For one thing, I had the speakers farther out in the room, and we only had one couch. Where I sit was, and could be, much closer to the speakers. Let’s just say that the battle over wife-approval-factors has been utterly lost in this house. But the good news is, five minutes of moving furniture and speakers and things are, more-or-less, back in that old position.

It’s a very odd room — “mid-century modern” (to quote somebody else’s expression), built in 1959, with three walls of dissimilar materials –– stone, plaster and glass; and made doubly so by our insistence on its main function — the view — we won’t compromise it. So I can’t use the more-or-less obvious axis for the speakers: facing in from the large, floor-to-ceiling window. My solution was copped from Dan Meinwald — put everything at an angle. And it works pretty well.

The preamp then was a pure tube EAR G88, Tim deParavicini’s former top of the line; the turntable, Allen Perkins’ great Immedia RPM-2 with matching tone-arm. And no matter what music I played on the system, analogue or digital, it sounded exceptional.

That was the best that I had; that equipment, in that position. Holographic is one way to describe it: the speakers well and truly vanished. But things change; children grow up to be cowboys, etc. Nonetheless, I remember it. And I’m thinking of doing something kind of drastic to get back to it.What I hear — tinnitus aside — isn’t a lack of treble information, it’s a lack of transparency.

So the question I’ll put to any readers of this column is:
Have you ever re-soldered your speakers?

That’s what I’m thinking about doing. The woofers have been redone several times, as they’ve needed re-foaming over their 22+ years. But the midrange domes and the tweeters haven’t, and the crossovers, most definitely not.

Inspired (or irritatingly egged-on, depending on your take) by a recent “Paul’s Post” about doing a spring-cleaning, I’m thinking of going all the way. It sounds like an enormous pain in the tuches, and I’d have to be extremely careful to not mess with the dressing of the absorptive material in the cabinet, so I’d like to know, before I do it, if any readers tried it and had success with doing it. The mid-drivers and the tweeters don’t seem so scary, but the crossovers… yikes.

The speakers are a d’Appolito configuration pair made by my pal Richard Marsh, using Dynaudio drivers and his own crossover components. He had built a pair for himself, I heard them and asked him if he’d consider building another pair.  Part of his reasoning, he said, was to see whether or not he could improve on his pair by the internal dressing. He reported that he succeeded with mine, and so went back to redo his pair.

Just about anything can and everything does oxidize, for better and worse. So…

Anybody tried it?

[Ye Uncharitable Editor immediately responded: It’s the caps, stupid! You’ll see a piece on the upgrade of my Spica Angelus crossovers soon.–-Ed.]


Rikki Farr, Part 3

Rikki Farr, Part 3

Rikki Farr, Part 3

Dan Schwartz

[Copper‘s Dan Schwartz had a lengthy conversation with concert promoter/raconteur Rikki Farr at his office at Riva Audio.  Part 1 appeared in Copper #56; Part 2, in Copper #57. This is the third and final installment of Dan and Rikki’s chat. I hope you enjoy it! —Ed.]

D.S.: So – the Maoists and the draft dodgers at the Isle of Wight.  Did you..?

R.F.: Well, they’d just destroyed a festival in France, in Montpellier. They came in these luxury buses with their stencil machines…they had the money to come across on the ferry, and on the buses, and all of the cost – and their message was that music should be free. And they would give out these leaflets: “don’t pay – you don’t have to pay, you can go on the down…” Now a lot of kids just said, “Screw you!” and they paid.  If everyone had paid, that would have been a huge success, and we were then going to go and build a permanent site on what is now the Isle of Wight, but they just tore it down, they broke it….

D.S.: Why do you call them Maoists?

R.F.: Because the French guys referred to themselves as Maoists.  They were the ones with the red headbands.  But there was another faction run by a little guy who looks like Charles Manson The one who chipped Joni Mitchell’s tooth.  He was…I received a bullet. Kris Kristofferson and I were backstage, talking, and he was ready to go on, and I got a Coca Cola can with a note and a bullet. It said, “The next one’s yours.” That’s why in the movie, you see Kris going on stage and he says to me, “I think they’re going to shoot us.” And you couldn’t hear me saying, “Where would we go? There’s nowhere to go!” (laughs)

And that came through the microphone.  The crowd heard that.  He’d just finished “Bobby McGee” and he wasn’t really in tune, and his band wasn’t really together. And Kris – it wasn’t a good performance.  And the audience went aggro; the Maoists lit a fire, were setting fire to things, burning down…

D.S.: So they identified as Maoists?

R.F.: The Frenchies? Yeah.  And there was thing of, “music should be free.” And I got hold of  a couple of them and I said, “How should it be free?  This guitar has to be paid for.  This electricity.  The toilet you’re using.  Who cleans it?  The water you’re drinking.  Where you park your bus.  You can pay 10 pounds to come over here and 10 pounds go back.  You can’t pay 7 shillings and sixpence for 5 days of the best music ever assembled?”  “Ah, but music must be free!”

D.S.: I hope they’re happy.

R.F.: They’re not, they’re not.

D.S.: I mean, music is free, now – of course not – there’s the cost of producing…

R.F.: Yeah, but – it isn’t, really.   It’s just repugnant .  So when you listen to what I (said): “We built – we worked a year for you bastards.” That was at the Maoists – and they knew it, because they’d now got into the front area, the press area, and they were occupying it.  The press had moved out.  It was like, “We don’t want to deal with this.”

And they were spitting, and they were at the stage.  That one guy, who was an American draft dodger – looked like a real thug – I invited him onto the stage.  I said, “Hey, the mic’s yours.”  And he got up and made such a fool of himself.  You can hear the crowd just booing him.  “I was at Woodstock, man!  That was free, and it was love and peace!  This is a concentration camp, man!”

I’d already explained that the government made us put the wall there as it was a matter of sanitation safety.  That killed us; the cost of that.  We actually had no intention – there was one road in, we literally were going to put a pay desk at the far end, and people would come in and carry on down the road.  We were going to do it that simply.  The year before, we had, literally, scaffolding pipes with black screens.  Some people cut their way through and came in free.  But not many. From a sanitation point of view, we had to maintain the site. They made us put a solid wall there, and it was horrible.  I gave these guy the paint – big mistake.  I said, “Look, paint it – put some love and peace signs on it.” And then the Maoists put “Fascist Pigs” and “Kill the Pigs – Music should be free!”

D.S.: Seven shillings sixpence was 90 cents.  For five days?

R.F.: Yup. What we should have done was make it 5 pounds. And everybody said it was ridiculous.  Camping was free; toilets and water, food was subsidized.  We built 4 churches for the different religions, children were born…I mean, we had a city the size of Brighton.

D.S.: A pound a day wouldn’t have been unreasonable.

R.F.: No, no.  Absolutely not for that bill.

D.S.: So why did you pick 90 cents?

R.F.: Well, we felt the amount of people we knew the deal would come.  The one thing was – I was labeled a Communist by the government – a perverted Communist – they had a thing about me inserting a straw into my scrotum for sexual pleasure – that I’d never done in my life and never heard of since.  But I think it was one of those members of Parliament – God knows what they did up to.  You see the gay clubs they go to, where they get whipped over having their fish and chips by a girl in a leather skirt…

D.S.: Well, at least it’s a girl!

R.F.: (laughs) Well, sometimes you wonder.  The Boot and Flogger was a famous place where you’d gather the MPs and they’d all be hauled over and have their bottoms smacked before lunch! (laughs) The British are a strange bunch!

D.S.: There are certainly rumors like that!

R.F.: No, I’ve been there!  Really.  Remember, I had all the clubs in London.  The Boot and Flogger.  There’s so much scandals going on now…

D.S.: A scandal like that would be relatively harmless.

R.F.: Well, I knew Christine Keeler really well.  And Ward [?}]  also – I mean, his suicide and everything, that was just so – crazy. It was the sixties, for Chrissake. Everyone was discovering their sexual freedom.  Girls – you know, it was just an amazing era.  And it was born out of this music that was coming and it was tribal.  There was the Carnaby Street tribe.  The Soho tribe.  The Notting Hill tribe.

D.S.: So do you think people picked their tribes?

R.F.: I think they gravitated to where they thought they could be the most successful; where they thought their contribution would be meaningful.

D.S.: That’s really interesting – tribal.

R.F.: That term came to me with Newcastle.  Manchester came later, with Duran Duran and so on and so forth.  But Nottingham.  And then later on, Sheffield.  A lot of bands out of Sheffield. And a lot of hair bands, like Def Leppard and so forth.

D.S.: But tribal suggest that people identified with a tribe rather than coming from a place.

R.F.: Well, I’ll give you a for instance.  If you were at the Blue Boar, which was a cafe on the M1, on a late Saturday night, early Sunday morning, all the Four Temps [?] traders, which was the van de rigeur of the traveling vans and equipment – that’s what they scuttled all over England in – setting up and pulling down. Bags coming  the North back to London, bags from the South coming back up North, we’d all meet there for a cup of tea, and eggs and beans on toast…I tell you, if you’d thrown a hand grenade into the Blue Boar, you’d wipe out what is now the legend of British music.  And y’know, there were those going up to Liverpool, there were those going to Birmingham, those going to Sheffield, those going to Newcastle…and this was not dissimilar as I would say, from the way the British [follow?] their soccer teams.  They’re tribes.  They wander around, they go to huge lengths to travel…if they’re playing in Moscow, you’ll see 8,000 guys from Liverpool.

D.S.: Did you ever have any interaction with the Grateful Dead?

R.F.: I did, because of my relationship with The Tubes.

D.S.:  That’s the best example that I can think about of a tribe in America.

R.F.:  Yeah.  Very much so.  Well that – I would even go beyond “tribe” and say “cult.”

D.S.: Well –  and then you just make it bigger, and it’s a religion! 

R.F.: Yeah – absolutely.  But when you think of them, you identify with where they come from. The Bay Area.  So that’s what I’m talking about.  This is a Liverpool band, this is a Manchester band…and I think England, by its very nature, if you look at history, England was broken up into territories: the Sussex men, the Kentish men, the Yorkshire, the Welsh, the Devonshire…you can’t believe a country that has so many different accents. I mean, you can travel 400 miles and you go from top to bottom, and if an American goes the whole North to South, they can’t understand half the people they talk to – but it’s all English!

D.S.: I’m very glad for subtitles…when I watch Scottish films, you know?

R.F.: (laughs) So it’s – when everyone gravitated to London, and London became the hub, and if you could come to London and play, and sell out, and you could really have a following, that was the real…nobody really aspired to go to Liverpool and sell out a crowd of people there.  Gary and the T Bones went to Liverpool – packed – but you made it if you went to London and you could go to the Marquee – even though we were licensed for 540 people, we’d get 1500 there. I mean, it was the black hole of Calcutta.

D.S.: I remember.  Even in ‘86 still.

R.F.: Oh yeah. I remember it well.  Well, I sort of remember it – when I talk to someone like yourself, it becomes very pictorial in my thinking.

D.S.: What are you proudest of? Of everything you’ve done?

R.F.: My children.

D.S.: And what was the biggest disappointment for you?

R.F.: My biggest disappointment was the editing on The Isle of Wight.  It could have been…I mean, I understand he had to show the anarchy, but not make the whole film about the anarchy.  And I think that if you had taken the beautiful colors and things that they filmed, like Sly and the Family Stone waking everybody up at dawn to the sunrise –

D.S.: What did they play?

R.F.: I went to Sly, and he was so high, and there were mounds, like little mole mounds for miles around, of people sleeping. Occasionally a body would be wandering around to go to the bathroom or on a trip = but mounds and mounds of people.  And he went onstage, Jeff Dexter announced them, and I was that far from crispy. And he grabbed a mic and starts going, “Boom chaka laka laka, Boom chaka laka!” (hums “Dance to the Music”) and all of a sudden these mounds started to wake up. 20 minutes later, the sun came up and it was just magical.  “Murray, why didn’t you put THAT in the film?” “I’ll put it in the new film!” Well, Murray died.  Died few months ago, 4-5 months ago.  And he just called me two months before: “Let’s do it.”  And I said, “Do it – but let’s edit it right.”

My biggest disappointment is what  that film could have been – because the recordings are so good.  I mean, some of those recordings…

D.S.: How was it recorded?

R.F.:  You won’t believe this: it was recorded from under the stage with 4 Nagras.  That’s why we had dual mics. Roger Daltrey wanted a single mic, and I said, “No – have it.  We’re recording.” Well, The Who got 3 albums out of it!

D.S.: So – the Nagras were running one after the other, or were you running 2 and 2?

R.F.: We were running them in pairs – in stereo; they were mixed down later.  And some of those records are awesome! And considering the crudity and the way we were recording them…now, my wonderful dear friend, Charlie Watkins from WEM [Watkins Electric Music, British leaders in development of high-powered PA systems—Ed.], my brothers, the Floyd, and ELP with their new PA, everybody donated their PAs. And we just loaded them up and put them out…and then the Maoists were trying to tear the towers down. There was 10 tons and huge power.  They toppled those over, there’d have been mass deaths.  I was living on such tenterhooks from those idiots. And they had no clue what they were doing.

D.S.: They were just trying to disrupt?

R.F.: Well, you also had that other guy, a complete idiot: Mick Farren, who had a band – I can’t remember the name; they’re so unmemorable – I tried to give them dates and nobody would turn up.  Mick Farren and the Deviants.  Something and the Deviants.  And I put them on The Isle of Wight and the crowd just didn’t hear.  He was trying to be the MC and he wasn’t.  So I became the enemy and he was going to destroy me, and he did a cartoon of me as a pig…and I wasn’t a pig when I was getting him concerts and paying him, and putting him on the South Sea with the early Fleetwood Mac.

D.S.: I loved that early Fleetwood Mac.

R.F.: They were wonderful!  Now Peter Green…You’re talking about another favorite! I’m still good friends with Mick. In fact, he has a restaurant in Maui, and I visit him.  Actually, I got a ping from him asking when was I coming over again? I still have people whom I stay connected with from time to time. I don’t live in that vacuum where I have to seek out my past.  I’m so determined to rectify some of the treason that’s been done to the music by the new ways of playing music. And this is why my company, Riva, we’re getting so incredibly well talked about by the press and the industry. We’re starting to get some real recognition for bring back the real honesty of instruments and how they’re played, how they’re recorded, and the voices, and the nuance and the separation. We’re really taking off, and I’m surrounding myself with some really brilliant young people, who, frankly, are making me look really good. Not 100% deserved, but at least I was a compass point for them.

I’m 75, I feel 50, and I’m as happy as a man who’s right minded. Couldn’t be happier.

D.S.: Is there a field you haven’t worked in that you would like to have worked in?

R.F.: When I did the acting, I loved the acting. I found it a little boring – the filming was boring; when I did the reformation film for the Royal Academy…but apparently, I won an award for that film for best unknown actor, or something. Never followed it up, frankly. Took off to the trawlers to make some real money. But doing the repertory theater and The Little Theater in Lewis – and doing Dark Side of the Moon…

D.S.: So that was sort of a passion that didn’t get fulfilled?   

R.F.: I felt I was able to play a part, transform myself, and understand the lines – and completely not be Rikki. Of being this part.  And I don’t know if it was emotional or egotistical, or a combination – but having like – when I played the Golden Boy [1937 Clifford Odets play in which the aspiring-violinist protagonist destroys his hand boxing—Ed.] – and my father wanted me to be a violinist, but I’d been a boxer and I’d broken my hand – and I remember just the light on the stage, and how my trainer would help take off the glove…and my hand, it wasn’t broken; it was like this. But I was able to look at it and the audience felt it was broken – And I’d literally hear people gasping – and I realized I’d probably never play the violin again, for my father.  And it was – it made me feel that I was able to – it gave me a sense of power; in being somebody who I wasn’t. And giving people watching, in a live sense, it gave me – it was thrilling. And it took me quite a while, after, like Christine McNamara went on to have a great career. Peter Cleall, a great British television actor…we were all in this.  And somebody said, “C’mon let’s do more; we’ve got a lot of offers to do things.” My mother really wanted me to do it, but I….going into Kaiser Keller, cheap perfume, drunken sailors, prostitutes, and Bo Diddley was kind of where my heart was! (laughs)

D.S.: It seduced a lot of people.

R.F.: Yes!  And…I think I could have been quite good, with the acting. Only because I’d inherited my father’s fearlessness. You know, someone said, “You have half a million people at The Isle of Wight?  That’s double Dunkirk!” And I go, “Okay.”  And it was just blind ignorance.

D.S.: It hadn’t been done, so you didn’t know!

R.F.: You know, if people are constantly telling me you won’t do it, you can’t do it, whatever – it stirs something up in me – “Well why can’t you do it?” I mean, he – if he’d stayed in the coal mines, he’d be dead by 23. But he got out, went to all the local pubs, put the chairs in a circle, and said, “I’ll take on anybody.” Grown men, minors, shepherds – you name it. And that’s why they called him “Legs” Farr – ‘cause he’d dance and dance – because if they couldn’t knock him out in 3 minutes, they’d put the money in a hat – his brother, Doug would go collect the money – and he’d jab and duck and jab – and then one day, Joe Gess’  boxing came to town, and he signed up. He was too young to fight, but one day, a guy was cutting into the tent to get in for free. My father was there to sort of keep an eye on things. He bent him with a left hand and knocked him out.  Joe Gess said, “You’re ready for the ring.”  So that was “Kid” Farr, and he took on all comers.

One of the ironies was that his pit boss, who’d beaten him remoresely with a leather belt, got in the ring to fight him.  And he beat him and beat him – he actually got on top of him and they had to pull him off. And that wasn’t a fight – that was revenge. But he had to hitchhike to London for his first fight. He was sleeping in a haystack and his feet were tickling him.  He woke up to see a bull licking his feet! And he worked on the barges on the Thames to make enough money to go to training camp and then have his fights.

When he got into the ring with Hitler’s great Walter Neusel, who was on the posters for the True Aryan, and Goering and Goebbels were there, Ribbentrop was the and my father hated – this was before anyone realized what a swastika was, but they had them. My father and the Welsh were all seen as [?German term]. My father recorded the fastest knockout—[?inaudible] screamed. This was the days of the 3 oz gloves. He looked up, and there was Goering and Ribbentrop, leaving the royal box. And that’s why Hitler put my father on is death list.  He was going to have his Chancellery overlooking the bandstand at Green Park. That’s where he was going to have all the “hangers”. He was looking at Churchill and said, “I will hang him like a chicken from his neck.” And Churchill said, “I tell you, Mr. Hitler – some chicken, some neck.” (laughs)

[That concludes Dan Schwartz’s conversation with Rikki Farr. Thanks so much to Rikki, and special thanks to Christine McKibban at Riva Audio and Jim Noyd of Noyd Communications for arranging Dan’s chat with Rikki.]


SME Buys Garrard; Shure Kills Cartridges; Gibson Files Chapter 11

Bill Leebens

SME Limited Acquires the Garrard Audio Brand

1st May 2018 – Steyning, England – SME, the British engineering and specialist Hi-Fi company, has acquired the rights to the Garrard audio brand from IGB Gradiente S.A. of Brazil.  A British brand synonymous with the design and manufacture of class-leading Hi-Fi products throughout the 1950’s, 60’s, 70’s and early 80’s, including the iconic 301 and 401 transcription turntables, Garrard is a much-admired audio brand whose products are eagerly sought out and traded worldwide.

Commenting on the acquisition, Stuart McNeilis, CEO of SME, said, “It is with great pleasure that we can announce the acquisition of the Garrard audio brand.  Responsible for true icons of vinyl reproduction with the 301 and 401 turntables, in many ways, Garrard’s legacy mirrors SME’s, with precision engineering, design and manufacturing, based in the UK. Many of these great turntables were paired with SME tonearms and there has always been a natural synergy between the two company’s products.  As an iconic British brand, Garrard deserves to be enjoyed by a new generation of audiophiles.”

To support owners of existing Garrard idler drive turntables, SME has also acquired Loricraft Audio, the only authorised Garrard service agent.  Responsible in many ways for keeping the Garrard legacy alive, Terry O’Sullivan, Managing Director of Loricraft, and his team has serviced and re-built Garrard products since 1997, along with manufacturing support products, including its renowned range of vinyl record cleaning machines.  “With years of experience and expert knowledge that will be crucial as SME develops the Garrard audio brand, the acquisition of Loricraft Audio was essential, as it enables the continued ability to service and maintain existing products.” added McNeilis.  “We are delighted that Terry and his team will join the SME family and bring their vast experience with them.”

There will be further announcements regarding the development of the Garrard audio brand in the near future.  For the time being, Loricraft Audio, now supported by SME, will continue offering its re-build and repair service for Garrard 301’s and 401’s, along with the supply of its accessories and record cleaning machines, from its facility in West Berkshire, England.

____________________________________________________________

Shure Statement Regarding the Discontinuation of Phono Products

Niles, IL., May 1, 2018—For more than 90 years, Shure has been committed to manufacturing and delivering products of the highest quality, reliability, and value. This commitment requires consistency in materials, processes, and testing, as well the capacity to react to fluctuations in demand.

In recent years, the ability to maintain our exacting standards in the Phonograph Cartridge product category has been challenged, resulting in cost and delivery impacts that are inconsistent with the Shure brand promise.

In light of these conditions, and after thorough evaluation, we have made the difficult decision to discontinue production of Shure Phono products effective Summer 2018.

Given our decades-long history of participation in the Phono category, we recognize that this decision may come as a disappointment to our channel partners and end users.

We are grateful for the support and loyalty demonstrated for Shure Phono products through the years and we are proud of the impact that these products have made on our customers’ lives and the reputation of the Shure brand. We believe that the proud legacy of Shure Phono is best served by exiting the category rather than continuing production under increasingly challenging circumstances.

Shure will continue to bring reputable, high quality products to market and we look forward to meeting and exceeding customer expectations on our current and future offerings. As Shure expands into new markets and product categories for audiophiles, our enduring commitment to premium performance and technological innovation will remain at our core.

____________________________________________________________

Gibson Brands Files Chapter 11 Bankruptcy

The inevitable finally occurred. Unable to service a half billion dollars’ worth of debt, Gibson Brands filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection in the Delaware District of Federal Bankruptcy Court.

We’ll have more to say in the nest issue of Copper, but as usual, Ted Green at Strata-gee.com has an excellent summary of events.


Die Schöne Müllerin

Anne E. Johnson

Music history textbooks love to point out that Schubert’s song cycle Die Schöne Müllerin (The Pretty Miller Girl) uses poetry by Wilhelm Müller, the same poet who supplied the text for Schubert’s Winterreise. Then they go on to inform you that the Winterreise poetry is “more sophisticated,” as if that automatically makes it superior. Some recent recordings of Müllerin demonstrate how the “less sophisticated” song cycle has an entirely different purpose and is a masterwork in its own way.

Müllerin dates from 1823, five years before Winterreise, published the same year Schubert died at the age of 31. Unlike the later work, which is a series of vignettes encapsulating emotions, Müllerin tells a story through its series of 20 poems: A young man follows a brook to a mill, falls in love with the miller’s daughter, despairs when she rejects his advances, and drowns himself in the brook. Besides the fact that the songs carry a plot, they also represent the point of view of an uneducated laborer. Of course the poetic diction and musical settings are quite different from the metaphysical Winterreise.

Before we get started, here’s a handy translation of the entire Die Schöne Müllerin.

In his 2017 recording of Die Schöne Müllerin on Capriccio, Danish baritone Bo Skovhus emphasizes the changing temperament of the main character as the young man goes from carefree wanderer in the first song, “Das Wandern” (Wandering), to hopeless victim of unrequited love in the final number, “Des Baches Wiegenlied” (The Brook’s Lullaby). Skovhus’ performance is all about acting with the voice; if you compare those first and last songs, they could be different singers.

His husky, sometimes wobbly voice takes some getting used to. It’s not the big, fat Thomas Hampson sound that has come to stand for “correct” operatic baritone. But if you take expressioninto account, this is a collection worth listening to. I also think the folk-like style of the poetry and music are carried well by a not-quite-standard voice, one that’s a bit rough at the edges.

Here is that opening song, “Das Wandern.” Pianist Stefan Vladar’s energetic playing – almost uncontrolled in its forward propulsion – perfectly embodies the programmatic meaning of Schubert’s accompaniment: Each of the strophic verses describes some type of constant motion as a metaphor for wandering, from the grinding of a mill wheel to the flowing water that turns it.

 

Although no other tracks are available on YouTube, there is a live version of Skovhus and Vladar doing “Wohin” (Where to?), the cycle’s second song. Although Skovhus’ noisy breathing is distracting at first, try to concentrate on how he crafts phrases, with attention to the smallest poetic detail and musical idea:

 

You can listen to the entire album on Spotify:

 

Another 2017 release, this one on Sony, offers the Müllerin cycle again performed by baritone and piano. Christian Gerhaher is a German singer with a sweet and multicolored voice and a wholly original approach to this music.

In the sixth song, “Der Neugirige” (The Questioner), Gerhaher treats the first two stanzas as an introduction. Fair enough, considering their music differs somewhat from what follows, buGerhaher overemphasizes this by singing the opening stanzas with halting rubato. I found it distracting. But when he sweeps into the delicate main melody at stanza 3, all is forgiven. (Oh, Schubert, how do you do it?) At the piano, Gerold Huber matches his playing perfectly to Gerhaher’s idiosyncratic interpretation.

 

From a compositional standpoint, the greatest song in Müllerin may be “Die liebe Farbe” (The Beloved Color). Schubert vacillates between major and minor to mimic the ironic twists in the poetry. The youth knows the miller girl loves green, so he resolves to seek out a cypress grove (cypresses represent death) and have his grave there covered in green grass. Schubert ties together the two conflicting modes by the constant, repeated fifth degree of the scale in the piano. Gerhaher and Huber play this one at funereal tempo, slower than normal, but it works to emphasize the poem’s darker side.

 

Their recording of the final song, “Des Baches Wiegenlied,” is a model of understatement.  Gerhaher, as if understanding how deep depression crushes the spirit, sings almost without feeling, letting his sound get swallowed into the piano’s lines. His character is beyond sadness at this point, as he says goodbye to the world.

 

Baritone and piano are currently the favored combination for performing Müllerin, but both the vocal range and the accompanying instruments are variables. One particularly beautiful recording from 1992 (Deutsche Harmonia Mundi) – in danger of being lost to the ages until the internet resurrected it – is by tenor Christoph Prégardien with Andreas Staier on fortepiano.

The higher voice brings an innocence to the story that makes a lot of dramatic sense. The boy is a fool who falls so hard because he’s so naïve. As for using the earlier instrument: The modern pianoforte had been invented by 1823, but fortepianos were still more common. And the fast decay of sound in the all-wooden frame (as opposed to the reverberation of tones in a metal frame and using a sustain pedal) gives the more folkish, strophic songs an appropriate simplicity.

The album is available on a single Youtube video. Start at 21:09 to hear “Des Müllers Blumen” (The Miller’s Flowers), a good example of the more innocent sound of tenor and fortepiano and a track that really shows off Prégardien’s sparkling voice:

 

If you prefer, you can hear the whole thing on Spotify:

I would be remiss not to mention an interesting experiment that just came out on VerdeFish Records. A quartet of musicians called The Erlkings define themselves as “the world’s newest genre defying Schubert ensemble.” Their 2018 Die Schöne Müllerin is based on the concept that Schubert was the pop music of his day, and thus he should be pop music in ours.

Well, hipster folk-pop, anyway. They’re not going for Top 40, and it’s entirely acoustic, with guitar, cello, brass (natural trumpet, tuba, etc.), and a snare drum fitted with a desk call bell. Much as I cherish Schubert’s original, I don’t hate the sound the Erlkings produce, and I believe they are skilled musicians who love this music. My biggest objection is that they treat this suicide tale with a level of humor that misrepresents the romantic poetry’s natural angst. Here is “Der Jäger,” sung in English:

 

If you dare, listen to the whole thing on Spotify:


Hadley Labs

Bill Leebens

At Axpona a few weeks ago, friend and mentor Richard Schram of Parasound suggested to me that, given my dual citizenship in the worlds of racing and audio, I should look at the life and works of Dawson Hadley. Richard indicated that Dawson had done significant work in both worlds.

When I wrote about Stan White back in Copper #s 12 and 13 , there wasn’t much reference material to tap, but I had dozens of emails from Stan, thanks to a by-chance-on-the internet personal relationship with him.

Writing about the semi-legendary Hadley Laboratories, known in internet forums as Marantz-killers with the sorta-8b model 601 tube amp and decidedly 7-ish 621 preamp, solid state though it may have been (hey, there was a 7T)—  and its namesake Dawson Hadley…well, there’s not a lot out there, and Dawson Hadley’s been dead for decades. I’ll do the best I can. Thanks to a connection from Kevin Deal, I received a great deal of excellent info from Dawson’s son Mike, and Dawson’s half-brother Jim.

A preliminary scan of the online literature reveals that Dawson had been deeply involved in the postwar racing world in SoCal, as both a dry lake racer and a drag racer. Just to clarify: these are deeply different worlds, akin to an Olympic athlete being capable of winning both 100 yard and 10,000 meter racers, under wildly different conditions. Hadley mingled with and often beat legendary racers who were the foundation of the Hot Rod Kar Kulture in southern California, showing up in the winner’s circle at Pomona drag strip, the launching pad of “Dyno” Don Nicholson, John Force, and many of the drag racing world’s biggest names. Running tank racers on dry lakes—aerodynamic top-speed racers based upon the belly tanks of WWII fighter planes—Hadley used his experience in tweaking engines (as the son of a machine-shop owner) to set new records.

The Pierson Brothers Coupe’ once owned and driven by Hadley ended up as the subject of what is probably the most incredible photo in Hot Rod history; the coupe’ was photographed in 1998 with pretty much anyone who was anyone in racing,  Seriously, look at the pic: Li’l’ John Buttera, Dan Gurney (!), Bud Meyer, the Pierson brothers, Carroll Shelby(!!), Vic Edelbrock, Alex Xydias, Pete Chapouris, Gray Baskerville…and BILLY GIBBONS of ZZ Top. Come ON.

Sadly, Dawson wasn’t there. —But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I went back and forth between audio and racing as different opportunities presented themselves—but why did Dawson completely break away from racing, and move into audio? His son Mike may have the answer:

“My dad got married and had the first of 5 children. I’m number 3. My mother told him to never race again. I guess he was afraid of her.”

That, I understand. Sounds like they had a good, solid relationship.

Mike continues: “While my dad never had a formal electronics education that I knew of, he understood electronics. To have him explain how semiconductors work was like  listening to the electron talk. In other words, it was backwards to anybody’s conventional explanation. Audio was possibly a secondary passion and a natural progression.”

And needless to say, the likelihood of getting killed building audio components was far lower than in racing at a high level, especially back in the ’50s and ’60s.

In the tradition of entrepreneurs everywhere, the company started up in Hadley’s garage. Mike: “I was 4 years old when my dad started Hadley Labs in our garage in Claremont. I believe he had 3 or 4 people working in the garage and the police came by one day and saw the cars parked on the street in front of the house. That’s when Hadley Labs got the building on Olive Street in Claremont in 1964 or 1965, I was 4 years old so it’s a little fuzzy now.”

So–what were they building in there? Audio Magazine’s annual equipment directory in August, 1963 listed two products from Hadley Labs: first,the “Model 601 stereo amplifier…..a dual amplifier designed for the discriminating listener.”  The architecture of the 601 seems similar to that of the Marantz 8 and 8b, although the Hadley was designed with a faceplate with an ovoid meter, designed for display. The 8 and 8b were of standard hi-fi form-factor of the ’40s and ’50s, designed to be hidden away in a console or cupboard. The second Hadley product shown in Audio was the “Model 621 Solid-State preamp”, whose faceplate was somewhat reminiscent of the Marantz 7. An odd feature: separate tone-controls for each channel.

Literature for both products are shown below, along with a schematic of the 601. Output transformers of the 601 came from Woody Bullock of Bullock Magnetics, a now-defunct company located near Schwien Engineering, a family-owned business still run by Jim Hadley.

The March, 1964 issue of Hi-Fi/Stereo Review, the predecessor of Stereo Review, featured an uncommonly-gushy review of the 601 power amp by Julian Hirsch, known in later years for his insistence that all “properly designed” amps sound alike. The review begins: “There are a very few power amplifiers whose performance is so outstanding that they must be put into a special category for the most discriminating users. The Hadley 601 stereo power amplifier is a recent addition to this group.”

Hirsch goes on to describe how the 601 nearly doubled its rated 40-watt output before exhibiting significant distortion, and was stable under any load. Hirsch notes that “Capacitive loads, such as would be imposed by electrostatic speakers, actually improved the (square-)wave shape slightly, and without introducing ringing or instability.”

Needless to say, such performance is unusual, and difficult to achieve. Hirsch’s conclusion: “When listening to the Hadley 601, I experienced the same sense of total ease and almost limitless power reserve I associate with the two or three finest amplifiers I have used. The 601, a worthy addition to this select group, is guaranteed for two years (except tubes) and is priced at $319.50.” (Both the Audio listings and the Hirsch review can be found by searching the unwieldy but invaluable American Radio History website.)

About those prices: Audio listed both pieces at $319,50, when the Marantz 7 and 8 were each priced at $264,00—so this was a rarified realm at the time. Compensating for inflation, each Hadley piece would cost over $2,600 today. The 621 flyer shown above shows a price of $359.00, so at some point prices were bumped up—perhaps to compensate for the cost of high-quality components and chassis elements. Jim indicated that the 621 faceplate was typically engraved (and beautifully done), although he has samples of a slightly-different faceplate with silk-screened legends.

Jim notes, “The 601 was the first product by Hadley Labs. The schematic is for Revision C, and is dated Nov 26, 1963. Sales of the 621 Pre-Amp began in late 1964, with schematics dated in Oct. 1963. The 622 Amp schematics are dated Oct. 1965.” The solid-state 622 amp is shown below, and it was the final product from Hadley Labs. Warranty records held by Jim indicate that the company had over 20 dealers, and total production appears to have been about 300 units of the 621 and around 200 of the 622; there are no records for the 601. Jim concludes, “Sales ended in early 1969. All warranties were honored for the full five years, after which time operations were ceased.”

Mike Hadley provides more details of the end of Hadley Labs, and that which came after: “My dad had a business partner who pulled out in approximately 1967 or 1968 which put Hadley Labs into bankruptcy and it closed down in 1969.

“At that time I believe Dawson was working with Saul Marantz and then went to work for Marantz. I think that lasted until 1972.

“I do remember the Tushinsky brothers Joseph, Fred and Irving [founders of Superscope, the first US distributors of Sony, who bought Marantz from Saul Marantz—Ed.] from Marantz. They came by the house a few times. They had red Ferraris.

“The whole Marantz thing ended on a very bad note. When my dad quit Marantz the Tushinsky’s made sure he would never work for another audio company as long as he lived.

“My dad went back into the automotive business working for Tom Spaudling who made electronic ignitions for race cars. Spaulding later got bought out by Echlin/Accel Automotive. At the same time Dawson was working on an electronic multiport fuel injection system. Fairchild Semiconductor was going to finance the project but dropped it because they didn’t see any future in it.

“My dad then hooked up with Edelbrock to finish the development of the fuel injection system. This is the fuel injection system design that every car is now equipped with.

“After Dawson left Edelbrock in about 1982 or 1983 he did consulting and built electronic ignition systems for race cars. My dad died October of 1986 at age 50 of a heart attack.”

Both Spaulding and the Edelbrock family are deeply involved in the history of California hot-rodding and high-performance automotive products, so Dawson returned to his roots.

While this is still a somewhat-sketchy history of Hadley Labs, it’s far more information than has been available previously. Perhaps we can return to the topic again in the future, and flesh out the history. There’s clearly more to tell—for example, legendary designer Bascom King knew Dawson for many years: “Well, I first met Dawson in the late 50’s when he came up to demonstrate products in Gordon Mercer’s store, Audio Vision in Santa Barbara. I had been working for Gordon as a service technician and learning audio from him. Typically, vendors with products of interest might be invited up to play their equipment at Gordon’t house. He always had a very good sounding system at his house. So I attended several such sessions with Dawson. As a side issue, Gordon Mercer was a main mentor of mine who convinced me to attend California Polytechnic University to study Electrical Engineering. Gordon was an EE that had worked in New York for various companies including Fairchild Recording. He had been involved with a really good studio tape recorder at Fairchild and had it going before Ampex came out with their first offering. Somehow, I don’t remember how, Ampex made it to market first.

“Later, after graduating and in the late 60’s, Dawson was hired by Marantz after Marantz was bought by Superscope, to set up and run and factory in LA to make new Marantz products. I consulted with Dawson on a number of designs and had one of my designs, the Model 1120 integrated amplifier, produced.

“Dawson was a very good designer and prior to working for the new Marantz operation in LA had produced under Hadley Labs a number of very good sounding preamps and power amplifiers both tube and SS. He was a kind and gentle human being.

“A good friend and now deceased, Jim Bongiorno, worked for Dawson in Hadley Labs as a service technician – that being before Jim went to SAE and then forming GAS and finally Sumo and Spread Spectrum Technologies. I did a lot of circuit scheming and consulting with Jim also when he moved to LA and then closer to Santa Barbara.”

Thanks to Richard Schram for the initial prod, and particular thanks to Jim Hadley and Mike Hadley, without whose help and information this piece wouldn’t have been possible. Jim provided all the literature and photos other than the header pic and the Pierson Brothers Coupe’ pic.


Hoagy Carmichael, Part 1

WL Woodward

Hoagland Carmichael

The sound of the neighbor’s rotary mower preceded the screech of the screen door opening.  “Don’t ya slam that screen door young man!!”

Bang!  A whisk of a boy ran by Mary heading for the stairs.

“An don’t be runnin in the house now!”

Pelting beats to the floor above.

Mixed with the sound of the boy tossing his bedroom looking for a glove or ball of some kind was the racket of the milkman’s cart and horse going by outside.

“Now there’s a lout…bringin milk in the afternoon..”

Pelting beats up turned to pounding stairs down and a dervish swirled by Mary heading for the door.

“Boy I been telling ya not to run in the..and don’t be slammin that..”

Bang!  And he was gone. 

Goodness me! Worryin about such like boys and louts with me havin ahl this washin, and ironin, and such and I got ta be playin at the Strand matinee this very afternoon!   Get goin gal!

Lida Mary Carmichael was married to Ralph Cramden.  OK, not actually Ralph but a dreamer named Howard Clyde Carmichael.  In 1899 some circus folk came through town and stayed at the Carmichael’s for a spell.  They were called the Hoaglands and the visit was apparently a doozy.  After the troupe left Mary gave birth to a son.  They named the boy Hoagland Howard.  Must’ve been one hell of a party.

Hoagy Carmichael was born in 1899 and grew up in as Midwest a place as you could possibly find, Bloomington, Indiana.  It was a place of screen doors and milkmen, stickball and evenings fishing.  Bloomington was and is still the home of Indiana University.  The period of 1910 to 1920 saw a vast change in musical culture throughout the US, not just in how music was played but how it was distributed.  These changes were especially fertilized in college towns.  And the house little Hoag lived in for a time was behind an IU frat house, close enough for Hoagy to hear bands playing at parties there.

Mary played piano and kept an upright in the house which was an incredible luxury for a poor couple in America before the Great War.  Mary was also the talented wife of a guy who worked hard but at all the wrong things.  Today he would be trying to start a blacksmith business.  Mary took care of the home and added to the finances by playing piano at the silent film movie house in whatever town they lived in.  So despite penury and following Da on his whims, there always remained a piano in the house.

Little Hoag showed little interest in the piano as a young boy but there came a time as he approached his teen years that he noticed a few things.  First came a realization that being poor sucks and has consequences.  Second he could see and hear the soul of his Mom as she worked and practiced the piano and then translated that to a craft the boy witnessed when he went to the theater and watched her perform.  Dig that man.  That was quite an art form in itself.  You must have had to show up early, watch the film, learn the score, and add flourishes and extemporaneous pounding in front of an audience paying no attention to you.  Then by the time you’ve played it a few times and just getting yer feet dry they change the damn movie.

Hoagy started following his mother’s hands when he was nine, and began pounding the keys himself.  He would play as hard on the keys as he could, trying to get the attention of the neighborhood.  This is pre electric guitar but it’s the same thing.  As his teen years progressed he started hanging around a place near campus called the Book Nook which was started as a book store but became a student hangout and music bar.  There local musical celebrities performed; players that would be major influences on the boy like a ‘hot’ fiddler/pianist named Hank Wells and piano pounders like Hube Hanna.

Dad moved the family to Indianapolis and Hoagy, as much as he missed his home town, became exposed to musical influences different from the college town he came from but also seemed to build on.   In Indianapolis, and in many cities across America there was a movement and culture of what was a transition from ragtime playing to an early form of jazz, known then as ‘hot  music’.  Hoagy was fascinated and went through black neighborhoods and snuck out evenings to clubs to listen outside.  He became crazed on hearing a local band leader named Reg Duvalle and basically stalked him until he got some lessons.

 

Meanwhile Hoagy was being chastised by his parents to become something better than a musician.  The family was poor, with Dad always chasing some dream, and Mom playing in silent film theaters that would soon become extinct.  Hoagy was a good boy and listened to reason.  But he was also listening to music that was shaking his brain.

In 1920 he enrolled at IU for pre-law.  He was already playing in bands around the area and his focus was always divided.  Hoagy went through twisting periods of attention to his studies and working on music, not as a serious undertaking but as a passion for playing the music that was thrilling him more than pre-law.  This was one of those intense periods in music where every band that came through town like Louis Jordan’s Louisville Quartet, King Oliver’s Creole Jazz Band with Louis Armstrong,  and Earl Hines heralded a new palpitation.  But it was especially the influence of ‘Fatha’ Hines piano style that most captured the imagination of the young pre-law Carmichael.  Oh and also influenced every piano pounder from Count Basie to Herbie Hancock to Lynn Badrick.

Here is Hines and his orchestra doing music that was making Hoagy crazy.

 

How you gonna study with DAT shit going on ?!

For the next decade Carmichael vacillated between brilliant but non-paying songwriting and mediocre and small time legal clerking finishing his studies and attempting to pass the  bar exam.

In the very early 20’s a form of music was developing up in Chicago centered at a club called ‘Friar’s Inn’ that was called ‘sock time’.  With four steady weighted beats to a bar the result was smoother than the hot music the boys were listening to.  Word got to Bloomington, and Hoagy and a buddy took the train up to Chicago where the stuff was living.  It was at the Friar’s that Hoagy was introduced to a young musician named Bix Beiderbecke.  Bix and Hoagy hit it off and begat a musical relationship that influenced them both.  It was Beiderbecke who told Carmichael he should write songs, that he had a gift.  Up until then the hoagman was just a traveling piano player/law student.

Carmichael did write a song Riverboat Shuffle that Bix recorded with his band Wolverines at Gennett.  The tune was fun and interesting for the musicians but was not very melodic.  Hoagy had no theory training and so struggled to write what he heard in his head.

So back he went into his studies and law.  It was obvious he could never make the money he would need being a musician or songwriter.

Next: Things Change.

that Bix recorded with his band Wolverines at Gennett. The tune was fun and interesting for the musicians but was not very melodic. Hoagy had no theory training and so struggled to write what he heard in his head. So back he went into his studies and law. It was obvious he could never make the money he would need being a musician or songwriter. Next: Things Change.

Heather Maloney

Heather Maloney

Heather Maloney

Anne E. Johnson

The town of Northampton, Mass., is a creative hub from way back, attracting the type who make and share art in a scene more hippie than hipster. There are plenty of indie musicians in that Berkshire town, but few if any songwriters better than Heather Maloney.

The thirtysomething New Jersey native lists a range of rock, pop, and country music as her influences, the likes of Joni Mitchell, the Beatles, Bob Dylan, Bonnie Raitt, and Sheryl Crow. But you don’t have to listen long to hear folk roots in her melodies, arrangements, and singing style – Irish roots in particular. No surprise that the stops on her current tour include New York’s Irish Arts Center and a few other shamrock-lined venues.

Classical music informs her creations, too, obvious in her vocal control, her imaginative melodies, and her use of dynamics and phrasing. In fact, she was studying to be an opera singer when she veered to the opposite path: she moved to a Buddhist meditation center, where she lived for much of three years, often under a vow of silence. The silence must have spoken to her clearly; since then her mind has been flooded with lyrics and music of her own.

Maloney’s first album, self-released when she had just left the retreat and moved to Northampton, was Cozy Razor’s Edge (2009). This is the work of a bright musical being still defining itself. The title song features yodel-like experimentation with her voice and self-conscious diction – she’s a big Alanis Morissette fan — none of which she held onto as she matured as a singer.

But the underlying strength and confidence of her singing is an indication of her potential. And the lyrics are intelligent and thoughtful, with compelling imagery: “Meet me on the edge of this moment / you bring stillness, I’ll bring movement…”

 

In 2011 she released Time and Pocket Change, which gradually gained glowing critical attention as reviewers took notice of this new-on-the-scene talent.

The opening track, “Fifty Lines,” shows off all that’s best about Maloney both as composer and performer. It’s a tribute to the muse, addressing inspiration as if it were a sort of ghost inhabiting the people and things of everyday life. She, the songwriter, is ready to receive whatever messages from the creative beyond that might be coming her way: “My cells are spirit soldiers waiting in formation.”

Besides the huge pitch range in this song, it’s worth noticing Maloney’s ornamentation – quick melismas very different from the popular wandering-wailing style used to ruin melodies on American Idol and The Voice (and which, for reasons that elude me, always win massive applause). These ornaments are tight and controlled, in a distinctly Irish style:

 

In 2012 Maloney signed with Signature Sounds indie record company in Northampton, which is still her label today. As labels tend to do with new artists, they had her start over, so to speak, with an eponymous album. Heather Maloney, released in 2013, has one particularly striking trait: the influence of country music (I’m talking old-timey, golden age of Nashville kind of thing) on the arrangements and delivery. Here’s the thigh-slappin’ song “Hey Broken”:

 

The country tinges bleed through on the slower numbers, too. The mountain harmonies and long, nasal notes in “Darlene” show off the power and focus of Maloney’s voice. But the lyric content is right out of ʼ90s brainy, sensitive indie rock (by which I mean the genre, not the type of label distribution) by women like Jewel and Ani DiFranco. Then again, song-portraits of women in tough circumstances have some solid roots in the country and folk tradition, too.

 

For 2014’s six-song EP, Woodstock, Maloney collaborated with the indie folk band Darlingside, also based in Western Massachusetts. Good musicians all, for my money their star is mandolin player Auyon Mukharji, who gets to shine both as soloist and as counterpoint on the track “Roadside Lily.” Maloney’s meter-defying poetry, stretching over line breaks, moves the song beyond standard folky fare:

 

Good songwriters don’t shy away from the hard topics. On the album Making Me Break (2015), Maloney shows she can deal with more than vague vignettes about human sadness. “Involuntary” is a detailed, vivid take on the heartache of PTSD from the point of view of a man suffering from the affliction and his grieving wife. Again, note the Irish-inspired ornamentation.

 

Maloney’s newest release is the EP Just Enough Sun (2018), which bubbles over with energy and motion. The provocatively titled “Don’t Be a Pansy” is written in second-person, admonishing somebody who’s afraid to show a softer side. But it’s done with sarcasm: “Don’t be moved, don’t be touched, don’t be tender. Don’t ever surrender. And whatever is feminine, don’t let it in.” Maloney demonstrates her ability to use melody for emotional purposes with the sweeping phrases the chorus that plunge to the very bottom of her vocal range.

 

This is a composer who knows her gift did not develop in a vacuum. I always admire an artist who not only acknowledges her influences but goes out of her way to do them honor. Maloney has recorded many songs by her heroes, including this stunning cover of Bob Dylan’s “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” that makes it sound like a 200-year-old Ozark Mountains tune:


A Tough Sell

A Tough Sell

A Tough Sell

Charles Rodrigues

There's a Record Store in Newnan

There's a Record Store in Newnan

There's a Record Store in Newnan

Lawrence Schenbeck

Newnan, Georgia, is the little town I live in, just south and slightly west of Atlanta. It’s not so little—the census counted 38,000 of us in 2016—but it’s not so big either. We moved here twelve years ago to split our commutes, mine to Spelman in the ATL, my wife’s to LaGrange College further south. One of my Spelman colleagues had an acreage nearby; he kept horses for his daughters there. We thought, well, okay. There was a Starbucks inside the city limits, but no Whole Foods Market. Twelve years later, we have two Starbuckses and still no place to buy overpriced produce. For that we drive to Peachtree City.

What we do have: lots of new friends. Some of them sing and play instruments, some have horses. Some sing and play and have horses. Wait, that’s not quite right. We have one guitar-playing friend—he’ll be on tour in New England when you read this—whose new bride is a veterinarian, and she keeps horses, which she rides extremely well in competition. (For the record, neither I nor my wife ride to the hounds. Yet.)

Here’s what we also have in Newnan: Vinylyte Records. They started out two years ago in the basement of our guitarist friend’s music school but now occupy their very own hip renovated storefront on courthouse square. (Check out their facebook page.) It’s a welcoming space. Alongside abundant bins of new and used vinyl, Vinylyte offers a selection of starter turntables and vintage audio equipment. Plus, they share space with ace guitar maker/restorer “JB” of Brown’s Guitar Mill, plus they host Newnan Unplugged at least once a month; there’s a nice stage tucked away just behind the record bins. Newnan is the hometown of at least two genuine music celebrities, country singer Alan Jackson and classical pianist Charles Wadsworth. So you’ll forgive me for imagining that one of the youngsters planting her feet behind a mic at Unplugged may be the next Alan or Charley or Charlene. Newnan seems like an unusually diverse yet close-knit community, which—considering its own history and our nation’s current troubled state—is worth celebrating. A venue like Vinylyte is not just a happy accident. It’s needed; it represents.

I chatted with owner Jesse Yates right before and after Record Store Day this year. His story may ring a bell or two for you. Jesse started out as a collector. He kept lists of records he really wanted. Also lists of records he really, really wanted. A few times a year he would head to St. Augustine and buy stuff on his lists. When the internet came along, it proved a boon to collectors like him, as well as to retailers and ordinary citizens who had records to sell. Good times!

Then the vinyl resurgence really, really got underway. Eventually Jesse realized he could deal directly with labels, distributors, and aggregators of used product—and he wouldn’t ever have to drive to St. Augustine again. In fact, he could open up his own brick-and-mortar store on courthouse square in big-enough, small-enough Newnan. A Malcolm Gladwell-ish tipping point had arrived. Jesse’s store was brought to you because a critical mass of locals rediscovered their love of vinyl, and that attracted Connectors, Mavens, and Salesmen (see Gladwell). So, Maven Jesse Yates leveraged his Connecting skills to become effortlessly great at Sales, i.e., connecting music lovers with more of what they’ll love.

It’s working. Vinylyte’s inventory continues to expand. They end every month in the black. Music lovers have a go-to spot where their tastes are respected and they’ll get good advice. Yates and company are helping create and sustain a community.


Jesse Yates, in Vinylyte Records.

He and I didn’t talk philosophy, though. We talked nuts and bolts. April 21 was National Record Store Day. In spite of local events that prompted other downtown stores to close, Jesse opened for business earlier than usual. At 8 a.m. the line already stretched around the block and down Jackson Street. He got some nice press for that, but he doesn’t think of himself as a hero. He just has, you know, values. Here’s a bit of our chat:

LS: Who do you get product from?

JY: I try to collect as many direct accounts to record labels as I can. Some of the majors, like Sony, Sony Legacy, and so forth, they make it a little hard. Then there’s WEA, which is friendlier, and under their umbrella there’s ADA, which handles distribution for a lot of independent labels. For most of the other records I’m looking for, I may have to go to a one-stop, so called because they handle everything. They’ll have the record, but their prices are higher. The markup on new vinyl is minimal, by the way. You do not have a big profit margin there. So I try to buy from labels, especially Matador, Sub-Pop, the other indies.

LS: Is the physical quality of the product linked to the distributor?

JY: The short answer is, not usually. I do have a connection to Quality Record Pressings, Chad Kassem’s production outfit; they supply Analogue Productions and other labels. Acoustic Sounds/Analogue Productions distributes both in-house recordings and many others. But ASI/AP/QRP is also distributed through ADA, meaning WEA, which is what we use! By and large, our customers shop for the music, not for “physical quality of the product.” Although they don’t want warped records, obviously.

LS: I have noticed that a lot of local bands offer LPs, but typically the mastering and vinyl quality remind me of, you know, the ‘70s.

JY: You need to remember, maybe their label does it for them, maybe the band arranges for production itself. When you have a strong local following, the important thing is to have vinyl available for that niche. It’s not an audiophile thing.

LS: Sounds like the landscape is shifting all the time.

JY: Label affiliation doesn’t matter as much as who’s distributing it. Radiohead is a perfect example. They were on Capitol/Parlophone: weirdly, we could get product directly from Parlophone but not from Capitol. Eventually they went back to their original label, XL, under the Beggars label group, handled by Matador. Our costs came down significantly once we were able to deal directly with them.

LS: How about something like Anouar Brahem’s Blue Maqams, on ECM? It made TAS’s Super LP List, and I didn’t even know it was out on vinyl.

JY: I think that’s UMG, another outfit that can be hard on dealers. We would probably have to buy ECM from a one-stop, which raises the price. And, you know, I understand the issues. Imagine you have 3,000 small shops, each ordering maybe two to five copies of a disc. A corporation that large, they don’t want to bother. They can’t afford to bother. Even with WEA, we have a yearly number we have to hit. If we don’t spend a certain amount with them, we don’t get to buy at all—although I’ve never had a problem meeting their minimum.

LS: Speaking of sales, you did pretty well on Saturday! What were your big sellers?

JY: The Johnny Cash box set was one. That was the Folsom Prison concert in its entirety. All Columbia had ever given people was one LP. But there were two full concerts, a bunch of guest artists, June Carter of course, Carl Perkins, The Statler Brothers. So, finally! In the box set you got four LPs of the concerts, and one LP of Mr. Cash and other artists rehearsing at the El Rancho Motel in Sacramento. And then the mono Pink Floyd Piper at the Gates of Dawn, that was a hot one. The Run the Jewels Stay Gold box, we sold out of that in like fifteen minutes.

LS: Anything surprise you about what people like?

JY: No, I think we’re startin’ to figure it out—I hope.

LS: That’s dangerous.

JY: No, no, it’s all geographical. This time was kind of weird, because of the publicity we got. People came from a considerable distance, which was great, but I was buying specifically for what we normally sell, as well as some of the more obscure requests that we got. But nobody really left feeling dissatisfied. Pretty much, we had something on everybody’s list. The quantities are the most nerve-wracking thing. Will I have enough? Will I have too much? It’s just a huge gamble. Part of the fun, but you can tie up a lot of money in inventory.

LS: It’s a nice experience, being able to come in here and go through all the bins. I can remember being in LA in the mid-70s and making pilgrimages to the Tower on Sunset. Impossible. Overwhelming.

JY: One of my favorite stores in Atlanta is Fantasyland, on Pharr Road. You’ll have a list, whether it’s in your head or however you’ve compiled it, of what you want, and the second you go through that door, it all goes away. Mind-blowing quantity. That’s why Discogs helps.

LS: What do you enjoy most, day to day?

JY: This may surprise you: pricing. I like figuring out what a record is worth. There’s a lot of research that can go into it, especially if that record hasn’t been logged on the Internet. Sellers can come in with some interesting stories. One conversation I don’t enjoy having is where I try to explain why I’m not going to spend $500 on your Sgt. Pepper. And I’m pretty well-versed on how to explain that. I mean, I certainly know why it’s not worth what you think, but I wish it was easier for you to understand that. Of course, I’m in the business of buying your record so I can make money from it on the back end. There it is. I’ll take you around the store, show you how things work. Maybe you’ll trust me enough to sell me your precious memory, and maybe not.


Another Look at Axpona

Another Look at Axpona

Another Look at Axpona

Neil Rudish
What did Rudy find interesting at this year’s show? Axpona 2018

The 2018 AXPONA show has come and gone. In its new digs at the Renaissance Schaumburg Convention Center, the show has hosted more exhibitors than ever before. This year’s show featured seven hotel floors of exhibitors, and most of the major ballrooms and meeting rooms on the two lowest floors were occupied by the larger exhibits.

I would like to share a few of my highlights from the show.  AXPONA was crazy large this year, and I missed quite a few rooms despite trying to see as many as I could.  But, I still had a memorable and enjoyable visit to the show this year.  And I am happy to report that the demo music was much improved for me this year, compared to my critique in Copper last year.

The marketplace area was significantly larger, featuring new and used LPs, CDs/SACDs, cables, audio accessories, record cleaning machines, and room treatments.  I emerged relatively unscathed, and only two sets of interconnects and six records came home with me.

 Axpona 2018 One room that was sonically and visually impressive was hosted by The Audio Company (Marietta, GA) featuring Von Schweikert speakers and a row of VAC monoblocks to power them. The speakers feature a pair of internally powered 15-inch drivers on the rear, giving full scale (and palpable bass) to the Poulenc Organ Concerto in G Minor that was playing on the Kronos turntable when I walked in. Very impressive! Axpona 2018 Axpona 2018 If horns are your thing, the show had them in spades. Perhaps the most visually impressive were the Avantgarde Acoustics Trio horns.  They featured two bass horns per side, and perhaps the only horns I’ve heard that could reproduce down to 30 Hz cleanly.  I don’t know how they would sound with the music I normally listen to, but they performed nicely with Pink Floyd, and “Bonzo’s Montreux” by Led Zeppelin.  My buddy Sean provides some scale to this photo. Axpona 2018 Speakers a little more room- (and wife-) friendly were in the adjoining room—the Avantgarde Uno XD.  Bass is handled by internally-powered subwoofers.  These sounded very dynamic with Pat Metheny’s “Rise Up.” Axpona 2018 Fine woodworking is a feature on many of the speakers here.  Sonist Audio once again had a wonderful sounding room. The equipment stands even went for the organic feel with rustic wood.  Like many other rooms this year, VAC amplifiers provided the power. Axpona 2018 

Exotic speakers never cease to amaze me.  It is fascinating to see the different technologies used to convert electrical energy into sound waves.  Dynamic drivers, electrostatics, ribbons, and even Walsh drivers (in a resurrection of the Ohms from years past) were all in attendance. MBL featured these, more reminiscent of flux capacitors:

Axpona 2018 German company Göbel showed their Epoque Aeon Fine loudspeakers which use six 7-inch bass drivers and a midrange/high frequency transducer called a “bending wave driver” which extends out past 30kHz and provides high linearity and accuracy.  The sound was impressive in this room. Axpona 2018

On display in the lobby was a row of Clearaudio turntables. Would they really miss that Innovation Basic (and TT5 arm) if I slipped it into my pocket?

Axpona 2018 ELAC’s rooms at the shows are tremendously popular. Andrew Jones was demonstrating the newly released Debut 2.0 series of speakers in one room, and Peter Madnick was on hand in the other with the ELAC Adante AS-61 speakers, Alchemy amplification, Miracord turntable (gorgeous!), and Discovery Music Server. Axpona 2018 Axpona 2018 Fern & Roby’s products sound superb, and have a handmade artisan quality to them that is evident in their designs. Their Tredegar turntable features a 65 pound cast iron plinth, 35 pound brass platter, and a tonearm partly made from wood. Axpona 2018 One of my favorite rooms from last year made a return appearance. Precision Audio Video brought the Obsidian turntable (with Viper arm) by Continuum Labs, and featured Constellation electronics driving Martin Logan Renaissance 15a speakers. Axpona 2018 Axpona 2018 

A new product introduction that really made an impression on me: Eikon Audio speakers, designed by Martin Logan co-founder Gayle Sanders. They utilize a Wavelet control unit which provides the function of a preamp, DAC, four-way crossover and DSP unit. This unit feeds each speaker via four balanced analog cables, allowing each speaker’s four internal class D amplifiers to power each of the four drivers directly.

The speaker’s response is adjusted automatically through a microphone during setup, and is corrected not only for frequency, but also for events in time (such as a reflection occurring, say, 80ms after the sound leaves the speaker). The idea is to provide a uniform wave launch, and the precise adjustment in DSP allows for very stable imaging and uniform bass response throughout the room. (You can literally walk around the room and the bass response remains evenly balanced.)

Axpona 2018 Axpona 2018

After show hours, Saturday evening’s blues revue featured the Corey Denison Band with special guests Demetria Taylor and Jimmy Johnson.

Axpona 2018 AXPONA outdid themselves this year with their largest show ever, and they are committed to the Renaissance Schaumburg for two more years. I am already looking forward to next year’s show, and I hope more of you reading this will consider attending. You’ll enjoy it!


Guitar Influences, Part 2: Keith Richards, Chuck Berry...& Mike Kagan??

Jay Jay French

Keith Richards, Chuck Berry &… Mike Kagan??

Yeah…I know. I can hear it now.

Who is Mike Kagan?  A legendary American (or British) wizard,  unknown to most of the world except to a few of us who look to him for all kinds of inspiration??

Well, in truth, Mike Kagan is just a long time neighbor of mine who is just 3 years older than me, but had a profound effect on my rock music (and guitar playing) history.

In 1965, when I was 13, Mike was 16 and the first person to own the Monkees debut album, the first person to tell me about the Who, and to play the Who’s debut album

“My Generation” for me, took me to my first rock concert (The Animals) in the summer of 1966 in Central Park and the one who also took me to the legendary “Murray the K” Easter week concert series called “Music in the 5th Dimension” at the RKO theater in New York City on Easter Sunday 1967.

The opening acts that day (this was truly a rock review with many acts playing only 2 songs) were The Cream (yes, that is what they were called then) who played “I Feel Free” and “NSU” and The Who who played “I Can’t Explain” and “My Generation”.

The headliners at this show (there were 63 shows total,  played 9 shows a day for 7 days) were Wilson Pickett plus Mitch Ryder & The Detroit Wheels.

The special guest this matinee performance were the Young Rascals who had a current smash chart hit that week, “Groovin.”

So Mike exposed me to all this good stuff but he also showed me my first actual guitar lick. Yes, this preceded The Paul Butterfield Blues band and Mike Bloomfield by about a year and it took the following year to actually understand that what he showed me could fit in a musical phrase but this particular guitar lead pattern was to become the foundation of most of the guitar solos that I have recorded.

Mike was not a particularly good guitar player but he heard, learned and was able to show me this set of notes with a pattern that has become my stock in trade.

The guitar ‘lick’ was from the intro to a song written by Chuck Berry called “Down The Road Apiece” that Mike played for me on side 2 of the first Rolling Stones album that I bought called The Rolling Stones, Now!

The guitar lick was perfectly copied by Keith Richards from Berry’s original version.

In one fell swoop I got Keith, Chuck and…Mike Kagan.

Keith Richards is a great player, not because of his speed or amazing technique but because of his “feel”.

Great guitar players know exactly what I mean

Keith’s style was built from Chuck’s style, maybe even better (certainly more consistent over time) than Chuck.

Chuck, however, created it and it has stood the test of time.

George Harrison did a great imitation of Chuck Berry on the Beatles version of Chuck’s “Roll Over Beethoven.”

Chuck…well, what can one really say.

His 2 note style is about as rock n roll as it gets and it got me.

It is the guitar foundation of so much rock history.

It is the foundation of my guitar playing.

His style has to be studied for its insane simplicity and pure, unadulterated drive.

The Rolling Stones were built on this foundation.

The Beatles were built on this foundation

Led Zeppelin was built on this foundation.

And Mike Kagan’s only guitar lick learned was Chuck’s which he passed down to me.

Chuck gave us all the beating heart of guitar based rock n roll

Perhaps John Lennon said it best:

“If you tried to give rock and roll another name, you might call it ‘Chuck Berry!”


Alamosa Dunes

Alamosa Dunes

Alamosa Dunes

Paul McGowan

Vikingbåde

Roy Hall

“I wish this boat would stop rocking so much,” I groaned to myself as I opened my eyes and looked in the bathroom mirror. It was only then that I realized I was standing in my hotel room in Copenhagen.

This was my first trip to Denmark. I had been in the furniture business for a few years and my brother-in-law/ boss suggested we drive from Glasgow to Copenhagen to visit the furniture fair in Bella Center in Copenhagen. At that time I was managing a shop that sold Danish Modern furniture and I was thrilled at the prospect of visiting some factories on the way there. Early one morning we drove south in my brother-in-law’s green Reliant Scimitar sports car to Harwich and took the overnight ferry to Esjberg.

On arrival in Denmark the countryside looked pretty much the same as the England we had just left: flat and characterless. But as the road signs were in Danish and driving was on the right hand side of the road we felt very cool. On our eastward trip to Copenhagen we stopped at one or two furniture factories. I had never seen such spotlessly clean facilities. All the machinery was gleaming and unlike Scottish factories, there was no dust in the air. Now I understood why Danish furniture was so beautiful. It was a marriage of ethos and simple aesthetics. Add craftsmanship to this and you have something of wonder. I am still an aficionado.

We arrived in Copenhagen and attended the show. While wandering around, looking at various lines, we bumped into people we knew who suggested we join them for dinner. The evening was memorable for two reasons. The first was that, we ate at a restaurant called “7 Smaa Hjem”(7 small homes). This was one of the top restaurants in Copenhagen in the late sixties and the food, to my unsophisticated Scottish palate, was like nothing I had ever had. (I have often wondered if I would still appreciate it now). The second reason was that after dinner, we went to see a really raunchy porn movie that almost brought up the whole meal.

The next day we met one of the reps we were friendly with. He looked really terrible. Bedraggled did not began to describe this man who was always nattily dressed and coiffed. We asked him what had happened and he didn’t say a word. He took out his card, turned it over and wrote on the back, “Vikingbåde”. His croaking voice said, “Give this to the taxi driver and be there at 7.”

The taxi took us down to the port and under a sign saying Vikingbåde, stood about a hundred people. We bought tickets and joined the crowd. At seven o’clock a whistle blew, the gate opened and everyone rushed towards a boat. We went with the flow, which led us downstairs to a large stateroom. Inside were long tables, piled high with food and bottles of aquavit. We sat down and noticed that even though there was enough food for an army, no one touched anything. The boat took off and after about 20 minutes, the whistle sounded and everyone dug into the food and started to drink.

Not being shy, we joined in. In talking to my neighbors the mystery was soon revealed. Duty on alcohol in Denmark was very high in those days. This ship sailed into international waters between Denmark and Sweden. When it reached that magic spot, the duty free bar was opened and booze became really cheap. The large amount of food and low-priced alcohol encouraged everyone to party. This lasted for quite a few hours and, on docking, I accompanied my neighbors and new best friends to the Luna Park in Tivoli gardens. Tivoli is a world famous amusement park and garden in the heart of Copenhagen. I vaguely remember riding a roller coaster for many hours then going out for drinks afterward.

The following morning, still suffering from “sea-sickness” I left the hotel and returned to Tivoli Gardens. It was a quiet, sunny, Sunday morning. The park was almost deserted and while ambling along a chestnut tree lined path, I stumbled across a brass band practicing. In Scotland in those days, brass bands were very much a coal mining (i.e. blue collar) enterprise. I was a middle-class snob and didn’t think much of them at all so I thought of moving on but a park bench beckoned and I sat down to listen. As the music played and the melodies soared over my aching limbs everything changed. My headache disappeared; my flesh stopped crawling and my eyes opened wide. Perhaps it was the sun, or the serenity of the park, but I know it was the music that healed my hangover and turned me into a lifelong fan of brass band music.


De Vriend’s Beethoven Cycle

Richard Murison

I wrote in the last issue of Copper about how the Mahler Symphony Cycle has more or less replaced the Beethoven Cycle as the reference standard against which modern conductors and orchestras seek to measure themselves, certainly in the concert repertoire.  One of the problems is that there is almost a saturation in the Beethoven repertoire.  It’s been done so many times that there is less and less room for someone to make a new statement, or showcase a personal approach.  Another issue may be that Beethoven’s canvas can be considered more limited and more limiting than Mahler’s, although that is an argument that tends to find more traction outside of professional music circles than within.

On the other hand, Beethoven’s relatively more rigid and formalized approach can be used to great advantage to emphasize subtle points of interpretation, particularly in the context of a complete cycle, in much the same way that a Black & White photograph often opens a window to a greater appreciation of composition and character than its color counterpart.  There is also the practical issue that it is possible, if one is of a mind to do so, to audition a 5-hour Beethoven cycle over the course of a leisurely afternoon, something that would be out of the question with a 13-hour Mahler cycle.

These days, for a conductor embarking upon a new recording of the Beethoven cycle, the vast legacy of Beethoven Symphony recordings that are already out there must surely loom dauntingly.  I recall reading one reviewer’s assertion that there are over 400 complete recorded Beethoven cycles alone, something I find astonishing.  So, whatever your vision might be, there is a pretty good chance that somebody, somewhere, sometime, has already done something similar.  Then there are the great reference cycles to be considered – what can possibly be constructively added to what the likes of Karajan, Klemperer, Bohm, and so forth, have already laid down?

Over the last three or four decades we have also been treated to the HIP (“Historically Informed Performance”) movement, which seeks to pay homage to the fact that musical instruments in Beethoven’s time were constructed differently, and hence sounded different, compared to contemporary practice.  It, in effect, poses the question “What would these pieces have sounded like at the time they were originally created?”, the unspoken subtext being that whatever it was should most accurately reflect the composer’s intentions.  It is a very valid question from an academic perspective, and makes for a fiery philosophical discussion.  But to my tired ears it more often than not tends to make for unconvincing listening.

In any case, none of this seems to have put too much of a brake on the continuing output of recorded Beethoven cycles, which do continue to emerge.   And it should be noted that some of them have been very highly praised.  Harnoncourt, Chailly, Jansons, and Krivine have all produced well-received cycles during the last decade although I haven’t actually heard them all (or, in the case of Krivine, even heard of him!).  The cycle I am going to report on here is from another conductor who, until I happened upon this cycle, also occupied a place on my ‘never-heard-of-him’ list – Jan Willem de Vriend.  Do we call him “de Vriend” or just “Vriend”?  I don’t know, but either way I’m already getting pretty fed up with the way my spell-checker keeps changing him to “Friend”.  In this cycle, de Vriend conducts The Netherlands Symphony Orchestra.

Carlos Kleiber’s 1975 recording of Beethoven’s 5th and 7th with the Vienna Philharmonic stands out – and in my view stands head and shoulders above all others – as a landmark interpretation of Beethoven.  In many ways, it established a new school of thought regarding Beethoven interpretation, but it would take more space than I have here to do that notion justice.  Where, for example, Karajan’s superb 1962 cycle emphasizes phrasing, tonality, and an earnest sense of reverence, Kleiber’s 5th has a lighter, smiling face, and opens our eyes (ears?) to the importance of the tight rhythmic elements of the composition, something with which modern jazz musicians would feel an immediate kinship.  de Vriend’s new Beethoven cycle is very much of the Kleiber school, which, I suppose, is one reason I like it so much.  Especially since Kleiber himself, being possessed of a famously difficult personality, unfortunately did not go on to record a complete cycle.

“Precision” is the first world that comes to mind when listening to the de Vriend cycle.  It’s what in Rock Music circles we refer to as tight.  Rock star de Vriend would surely have been a drummer.  Every phrase and passage, every instrument, is so precisely delineated that we get to hear unusually deeply into the music.  The phrasing is light and airy, but tightly controlled.  Tempi give the impression of being on the brisk side, but a stopwatch shows this to be mostly illusory.  Above all else, there is a cohesion of purpose across the entire cycle, accomplished to a degree I have never previously heard.  Listening through the entire cycle in one sitting, as I have done several times, each symphony flows naturally into the next, like movements within a single vast work.  What comes across is a combination of conductor and orchestra very much on the same page – each very clearly buying quite enthusiastically what the other is selling.

Perhaps de Vriend’s most remarkable accomplishment is the way he transforms Symphony No 1 from being a ‘baby brother’ symphony to fully formed mature work.  Once the slightly plodding introduction gives way, it really makes you sit up and take notice.  It is the closest thing you will ever come to hearing a previously undiscovered Beethoven symphony for the first time.  Has de Vriend played fast and loose with the orchestration?  There is a richness of tone and sureness of touch to the development that I haven’t previously associated with the Haydn-esque Symphonies 1 and 2.  I certainly didn’t detect any evidence of such liberties being taken with any of the other symphonies that I know much better.  Either way, as the closing bars of Symphony No 1 bray triumphantly out, your attention will surely have been captured, and you will probably find yourself staying in your listening chair as No 1 gives way to No 2, No 3, and so on.  I’ve lost count of the number of occasions in this cycle where, as a particular movement closes, I just want to do a fist-pump and shout “Yes!”.

The famous 9th symphony was the first of the cycle that I actually heard, and it prompted me to get the rest of the cycle.  ‘Idiosyncratic’ was the word I wrote on my notepad.  It too had me sitting up from note one, although first time through it was more ‘interesting’ than gripping.  However, it served its purpose, and left me wanting to listen through again, having notched my expectations up accordingly.  The 800lb gorilla in the 9th symphony is the choice of tempi with which to conclude the final 30 seconds of the last movement.  It is quite possibly classical music’s finest and most satisfying climax.  My problem is that, for me at any rate, Karajan’s interpretation rules the roost, and any departure from his inspirational 1962 finale just sounds jarring to me.  And de Vriend’s version DOES depart.  Not in a good way.  No fist-pump.  Big let-down.

Like I said, more than anything else, what de Vriend has accomplished here is the most coherent Beethoven cycle I have yet heard.  It is not perfect, though.  While his performance of the 1st Symphony may conceivably be the finest on record, none of the other symphonies will likely make anybody’s personal ‘best of’ list.  But this whole coherence thing is not to be under-rated.  It has a magnetic personality of its own.  More than with any other symphony cycle I own, listening to any one of these symphonies makes me want to listen to another, and another, and another.  The nearest I have to a similarly “coherent” interpretive cycle is John Eliot Gardiner’s superbly-recorded 1994 cycle with his Orchestre Révolutionnaire et Romantique.  This breathless cycle is a non-stop thrill ride, comprising truly magnificent versions of the 3rd and 4th symphonies, but taken across the entire cycle it has a sense of relentlessness that can be a bit wearing (in the 6th and 9th, for example, it just doesn’t work at all).  As a cycle, I have always had a soft spot for Karajan’s 1962 go-round, but playing it now, I find myself hearing it as a curation of nine separate performances, rather than as a collective statement.  In the light of these and other well-regarded established recordings, what Jan Willem de Vriend has accomplished with this cycle deserves great credit.  My feeling is that, as it continues to grow on me as a cycle – and it really does continue to grow on me – it will establish itself considerably in stature.  I just wish the ninth didn’t wrap up so frustratingly!

One last thing to be said about this cycle.  It was recorded by Northstar Recordings in Holland.  This group is making what are quite possibly the finest classical recordings in the world today.  Given that the quality of classical music recording in general is today at an extraordinarily high level across the board, these could quite possibly be the finest classical recordings ever.  Take advantage while you get the chance.  Here I listened in DSD64.  I also have some of their other recordings in their native DXD (24-bit 352.8kHz PCM) format.  [What with Channel Classics also being Dutch, there must be something in the dunes and dykes over there].  It is SUCH a bonus when great music and great recordings come together.

The folks at Native DSD offer Copper readers a special discount on the de Vriend cycle:

coupon code CYCLE  gives 25% discount on the Complete Cycle in DSD

coupon code SYMPH  gives  15% discount on any Symphony in DSD

 

Symphonies Nos. 1 & 5: https://challengerecords.nativedsd.com/albums/symphonies-nos-1-5-vol-2

Symphonies Nos. 2 & 3: https://challengerecords.nativedsd.com/albums/symphonies-nos-2-3

Symphonies Nos. 4 & 6: https://challengerecords.nativedsd.com/albums/symphonies-nos-4-6-vol-1

Symphonies Nos. 7 & 8: https://challengerecords.nativedsd.com/albums/symphonies-nos-7-8

Symphony No. 9: https://challengerecords.nativedsd.com/albums/symphony-no-9

 

The codes are valid through the last day of June, 2018 – to give readers ample time to benefit from the discount.

 

For the complete cycle, it will look like this in the cart: https://www.dropbox.com/s/nx5yzch172suqde/Screenshot%202018-05-01%2013.43.46.png?dl=0