Issue 149

In a previous article (Issue 147) we considered the reality that, although there is an abundance of information describing the technical specifications of loudspeakers, not all of it is particularly helpful in assisting us in making informed purchasing decisions. The specs don’t give a complete idea of how a speaker will be suited to our listening rooms, or provide an optimal listening distance.

We also briefly looked at the fact that power handling ratings and frequency response are only part of the picture in telling us about a speaker’s “personality” and potential to deliver volume at our preferred listening levels, because we don’t typically listen to our speakers at their peak output rating, nor can we tell how much power our speaker is delivering at different bandwidths and frequencies across the audio spectrum. It’s worth remembering that often times, nominal test data may be obtained from measurements conducted in an anechoic chamber, and do not directly represent how a loudspeaker may perform in an actual listening environment, or account for different room dimensions, reflections, absorption and even listener preferences for a more bright, forward and lively sound or perhaps a darker or more laid-back tonality.

We know that if we sit farther away from the speakers, we will lose some of the volume compared to if we sat nearer. If your speakers have been engineered to produce, say, an average of 85 dB output at a given listening position, the location you end up selecting for your seating position may not correspond to this average distance for average volume output. Again, the spec doesn’t provide a useful “real world” measurement. You may think the simple answer is to just turn the volume up or down according to what you are listening to!

However, any given recording has been made with either incidental, or more commonly, very intentional dynamic ranges from within its quietest and to its loudest parts. It’s safe to say that all of us want to listen to an album’s mix as intended by the engineer, without having to change the volume radically throughout our listening to the piece! Many of us may not enjoy constantly adjusting the volume control (and/or applying some kind of compression like the night mode of an A/V receiver or soundbar) unless perhaps we are listening late at night and being considerate of our neighbors.

Our listening position can have more of an impact on this than we might at first think. The album Talk by Yes is a great example of a recording with vast dynamic range. A big reason is that it was recorded by producer Trevor Rabin with his pioneering use of Mark of the Unicorn Digital Performer software (now up to Version 11). As Rabin put it in 1994: “…this Talk album, we really went into doing seriously, to do something that hopefully we could say, [in] twenty years’ time, that’s one of the things we did that we’re really proud of.”

If you love to listen to orchestral music, then you know I am preaching to the converted when it comes to appreciating a recording’s dynamics, from subtle passages to monstrous power that could dust off any Marshall stack!

So, are there any standards we can adhere to when assessing equipment? A traditional and tested requirement for many mixing rooms is that the front speakers in a multichannel setup should be able to handle peaks of 105 dB across a bandwidth from 80 Hz to 20 kHz (20 dB above the rated average listening volume of 85dB), with the surround speakers at 102 dB covering the same bandwidth range, and subwoofers the capable of producing 115 dB. This starts to provide some context for how we may set our volume levels on our home stereo or surround systems so that they are balanced in the same proportions. If you calibrate your listening volume to something closer to 75 dB, then you afford yourself 10 dB headroom. Also, knowing how loud you like to listen to your music for most of the time gives a great starting point in comparing different speakers at the same volume.

What if you run a 5.1-channel or bigger system for music and movies? Many films have a mix that is biased in favor of in producing a center channel volume that is 3 dB louder than the front main speakers, and with front main speakers mixed at 3 dB louder than the surrounds. If you are watching a live music Blu-ray (or other format), you may likely notice that the center channel is very prominent, and it requires a lot more power than the other speakers. This can be especially noticeable in dialogue and for vocal performances. For this reason, many tout the center speaker as the most important in a surround sound system, along with the fact that it has an important role in dispersing its sound over an off-axis angle of about 60 degrees to provide adequate room coverage and blend with the main left and right speakers. The takeaway is to keep in mind that, when determining your preferred listening levels and listening position with a surround sound system, you need to consider that the center channel will require more power.

Of course, your room has a major impact on the volume and the sound your speakers will produce. Examples may include furniture, mirrors, windows, soft furnishings, blankets, bookcases, and of course any dedicated room absorption and dispersion treatments. This is nothing new, but have you considered the following?

Klipsch loudspeakers and subwoofer in a surround sound system. From the Klipsch website.

It’s a well-known fact to us audiophiles, that to double the acoustic energy output, we need an increase of +3 dB. So, how does this factor into our thinking about room sizes and the sensitivity ratings of our speakers?

For a room size of approximately 80 cubic meters (3,000 cubic feet), based on average room reflections and decay times, the measured sensitivity of speakers at the standard one-meter measurement point, translates to -7 dB by the time you get to the average listening position for that room size. This is based on a typical triangular placement of a listening chair between speakers in a room following the IEC dimensions of a 21-foot/6.4m x 16-foot/4.8m x 9-foot/2.7m room. Because of the inverse square law – volume drops off as the square of the distance, not in a linear fashion. Think of it as the sound power being spread out in all directions from the source, a bit like the surface of an inflating balloon skin.

As you double the distance from the speaker to 2 meters (about 6-1/2 feet), the volume will have dropped by more than 6 dB by the time you hear it at that distance compared to the sound source measured at one meter. If you double the distance again to 4 meters (a little over 13 feet away in a bigger room as illustrated below you will be more than 12 dB down (actually closer to 13 dB) at the listening position.

In other words, if you are considering buying a speaker with a sensitivity rating of 87 dB, it will translate to a sensitivity of 80 dB at a seating position of a distance a little more than 2 meters (about 6-1/2 feet) away from the speakers. Speakers rated at a sensitivity of 92 dB will be performing at the listening position at a sensitivity of 85 dB. If your speakers have a sensitivity rating of 82 dB then you will have an effective sensitivity at such a seating position of 75 dB – a typical suggested minimum reference volume for a home hi-fi set up. Factor this into your decision-making process when choosing the right speakers for your room size, preferred listening volumes and distance from your speakers.

Sound pressure level vs. distance. From the PUIaudio website.

So, if you have ever bemoaned the fact that your room isn’t quite as big as you would like it to be, say less than 80 cubic meters (about 2,825 cubic feet), you now have more reason to be happy about the fact that your speakers play louder because you’ll be sitting closer to them and need less amplifier power.

What about those of us who do have a larger room? If your room is double the previous example’s cubic volume at 160 cubic meters (about 5,650 cubic feet), and assuming the same ceiling height, you’ll need double the amplifier power (for example, from 100 to 200 watts) to hear the same volume as the room which has half of that cubic volume. Why? Because the room volume requires 3 dB more power each time you increase the volume of the room by 80 cubic meters and so you are now down -10dB at the listening position. And, for a room three times the volume at 240 cubic meters (approx. 8.9 x 10 x 2.7 meters or about 8,476 cubic feet), the you must double the power again from 200 to 400 watts, as you lose a further 3 dB and are now -13 dB down from your (anechoic) speaker sensitivity rating at 1 meter. In a room this size, speakers rated at 87 dB will have an effective sensitivity of 74 dB at the listening position.

Again, although these are only statistical average examples, and your personal mileage may vary a little, they may prove very helpful in making a more informed decision when analyzing speaker specifications, your room size, and amplifier power and headroom requirements to adequately support typical seating position listening volumes. (Note that differences in spectral balance and decay time will alter the perceived volume to some extent).

You may of course enjoy listening to your speakers more in the near field than at an average listening distance for any given room size. You may also prefer listening to them at below reference levels.

What other factors can we consider that will help choose a good-sounding speaker? We will consider this in a future article.

Header image courtesy of Pixabay.com/Tomislav Jakupec.

In Part One (Issue 147) and Part Two (Issue 148), Russ looked at routing the audio from a computer through an external DAC for better sound, and using a third-party music management program, (in his case, Emby), to greatly increase the accessibility we have to music when stored on a NAS (network attached storage) or other drive, which can change the filenames of music tracks to make them harder to find). In this installment, Russ seeks out good values in streaming audio services for sampling future digital music purchases.

In researching further ways to get the most out of our computer-based music libraries, two things occurred to me: first, how wonderful it would be able to stream an audio service to my network that offers good value for money, and second, to be able to find a suitable piece of equipment that would allow you to have voice-activation control in accessing and playing music.

Rather than bore you with comparison tables which list all the various prices and streaming services available, I’ll just note that at the time of writing, one particular streaming service stands out for me both in terms of quality while also offering amazing value for money. If someone were to offer you a lossless streaming service, which also allowed you to download albums from a vast array of high-quality recordings so that you can play them off-line, would you be interested? You may feel that streaming is not really your preferred way of listening to music and that you would always rather play your backed-up music from your library. If you know what you like and don’t fancy the monthly or annual subscription fees of Amazon Music HD, Tidal, Roon, Spotify or others, that is completely understandable. I have felt that way for a long time.

As time has progressed, so has technology, and along with it I have begun to explore the wider field of what is on the table from digital streaming. Back in the day, I would budget myself a certain amount of cash each week for how many CDs and records I would go into the store and physically buy. This is where my current digital library of music now lives, in ripped digital form on an NAS. I thought this was quite advanced and modern until I subsequently discovered the Amazon Music Unlimited Single Device Plan.

(I need to state that I do not work for Amazon, am not an affiliate or a reseller of their products, and have no personal investment in their company, and this article is purely from a personal end-user perspective.) The Amazon Music Unlimited Single Device Plan gives subscribers access to streaming lossless music at Ultra HD standard to a single Echo, Echo Dot, Fire TV or similar device for free on their 90-day trial after which the service reverts to 96-320 kbps for the princely sum of £3.99 per month here in the UK and $3.99 for the USA. (That’s less than three quid in the UK!) If you then upgrade to their £7.99 per month tariff you gain their Ultra HD service (but you may also select the HD or standard options for playback within that tariff).

Amazon Echo, one of a number of devices that is compatible with the Amazon Music Unlimited Single Device Plan.

For me, I feel this represents a real sweet spot both in terms of accessibility to a huge library of streaming music, and at a high-enough quality of resolution that is competitive among its peers. Tidal, as a contrasting example, charges $9.99 for their 320kbps service. The Amazon Unlimited HD (High Definition) service plan allows access to 75 million songs at up to 850 Kbps, at 16-bit resolution and 44.1kHz (or CD-quality). As an alternative, Amazon Ultra HD offers 7 million songs at 3,730 Kbps, and 24-bit/192 kHz for $9.99 per month or $7.99 if you are an Amazon Prime member.

This is especially significant because as of March 2021, the HD offering is now included without the prior £5 GBP surcharge, which I believe was also retracted in the US, and makes for a fiercely competitive offering. (Note that these subscriptions replace your standard Prime music playing service, if you have one.) I also like the Amazon Unlimited service because many albums are of recordings made from original masters. Interestingly and by way of comparison, Tidal charges $19.99 for their 1,411 Kbps FLAC plan.

So, in short, if you are content to stream to only one Amazon device such as a basic Echo Dot, you can do so and connect it to your audio system’s auxiliary input, and then stream millions of albums, and under your very own voice command. I’m not suggesting you must be permanently content with this level of fidelity, but it is nonetheless exceptional in terms of the sheer diversity of music available for you to explore, and then purchase what you desire at whatever quality of resolution you prefer to listen to.

I like the value of the Amazon Unlimited streaming service because it offers you a wide panorama of music to sample for a reasonable price, whether entire albums or individual tracks. (We’ve all bought albums with duff songs on an otherwise pleasant collection of music!)

One example of an album I discovered and have enjoyed immensely for chilling out to is The Inner Urge by the band of the same name, released on March 25, 2018. The band includes by Alexander Price (guitar, violin) Michael Garbett (vibraphone, percussion) Andrew Koss (bass, synthesizer (and Jesse Griffith (drums). It’s a melodic jazz rock and ambient album with interesting synth sounds and playing, and relaxing soundscapes. It’s a great new musical discovery to relax to after a stressful day. The point is, though, that I would never have found it if it were not for the Amazon Music Unlimited service widening out my awareness to find something I now love to listen to. I’m confident you too can enjoy a similar experience and find new musical loves that you end up only wishing you had discovered sooner so that it could have been part of your musical diet for more years.

One caveat to be aware of with Amazon Music Unlimited is what actually constitutes a “download” or not in the conventional sense of the term. I always think of a download as something that sits on your hard drive somewhere after you’ve downloaded it. However, if you “download” an Amazon track to your PC’s desktop, what you actually get is a link to a file on the Amazon cloud server that enables you to play the track from the server – not a downloaded song that you then physically own. So, don’t spend any time looking for your music files buried in your PC, tablet or mobile phone’s music folder or similar, because it won’t be there.

At the time of writing this, downloads (in the traditional sense of the term which implies a physically present music file) are not available as part of the Amazon Unlimited or Amazon Prime services for PC or Mac. It’s not permitted to physically download to a local device due to licensing rights.  Amazon customer service explained to me that for PC, any purchased downloaded music files must be played via another app. Your purchased files go by default into your My Music folder on your computer, where you then choose a suitable app to play the files. Windows Media Player is native to PC but does not sync your music file across different hardware such as your mobile devices or tablets. In other words, within the PC format, there is not a native music player that will synchronize and play that music file across different hardware devices.

The Mac system, however, does have a native app – iTunes, and it stores music in a normal music folder. iTunes links your downloaded track from its stored file location to the native player, and allows you to access the file from your iPhone or Apple tablet when using iTunes on those devices.

Although this may be common knowledge, what is less-known is that Amazon may be working on a native music player for PC to provide a similar synchronizing function. On pressing them further, they would neither confirm nor deny that this is in the pipeline, but it would seem to be a smart move that would popularize easier accessibility to Amazon-purchased music for PC owners wishing to access their music on additional devices. Perhaps it may be derived from their Music Installer app, but I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

So, no, you cannot truly download and “own” millions of songs for $3.99 per month, as some advertising terminology would lead you to believe. Perhaps I’m showing my age, but I don’t care. The benefits – good sound quality and easy access via voice command – far outweigh this.

You also get a generous 90-day trial period, which includes being able to try the service with multiple devices, but once you choose the Amazon Music Unlimited Single Device Plan, you have to settle on one single device for which you can use the service.

In a future issue we will examine some ways of accessing and playing our digital streamed music on a high-end audio system by using a tablet or phone and even via voice command, rather than needing a TV or monitor display, Enter the ride of the headless audio warrior!

For help regarding additional Amazon music services, please click on this link.

Header image courtesy of Pexels.com/cottonbro.

PS Audio’s Octave Records has two new releases: Audiophile Masters, Volume II, the follow-up disc to the label’s Audiophile Masters, Volume I, and a limited-edition vinyl LP release of Temporary Circumstances by pop-rock band Clandestine Amigo. Both releases are recorded in Pure DSD to deliver exceptional musical realism and fidelity.

Audiophile Masters, Volume II is available as a stereo SACD and download bundle and features 10 all-new tracks, ranging from a string quartet by composer Michael McLean to the soulful funk of saxophonist Briana Harris, the acoustic guitar duo of Taylor Sims and Kyle Donovan, and even an audiophile solo accordion performance.

The selections were recorded in pure DSD using Octave Records’ Sonoma DSD recording system at Animal Lane Studios in Lyons, Colorado, and the First United Methodist Church in Boulder, CO, to capture the varied performances, vocal and instrumental sounds, and the sound spaces of the recording venues with the intent of offering the best-possible fidelity and musical realism.

Paul McGowan, PS Audio CEO notes, “As with all Octave Records releases, our goal in releasing Audiophile Masters Volume II is to provide listeners with state-of-the-art audio quality, especially in a sampler disc like this one that shows the full range of what we can do – but more importantly, we want the sound to communicate every nuance of our artists’ musical expressiveness.”

Audiophile Masters Volume II is playable on any CD, DVD, or Blu-ray player. It also has a high-resolution DSD layer that is accessible only using a PS Audio SACD transport, or by copying the DSD tracks on the included DVD data discs. In addition, the master DSD and PCM files are available for download from psaudio.com at this link.

The album showcases an eclectic variety of musical styles and sounds. To name just a few: Michael McLean’s “Tango” is a string quartet piece that combines the ensemble’s lively playing with the warm acoustics of Boulder’s United Methodist Church, with every instrument clearly defined yet with a smooth ensemble blend. “Amethyst” by Briana Harris captures the power and groove of her quintet, a sound that hearkens back to the classic jazz of the 1950s and 1960s. “Me and My Baby,” an acoustic guitar duet by Taylor Sims and Kyle Donovan, conveys the harmonic richness, depth and sparkle of their instruments with stunning presence and clarity.

And…an audiophile reference track featuring accordion? Check out Alicia Jo Straka’s “Musette au Paris,” where the instrument is recorded with depth, complexity and ambience.

Alicia Jo Straka

The discs are pressed on 180-gram virgin vinyl using world-class pressing equipment, using the highest-quality Neotech vinyl compound, NiPro Optics electroplating, GrooveCoated stampers from Gotta Groove Records, state-of-the-art temperature control during the manufacturing process, and other refinements. Each record is scrupulously hand-inspected to ensure the ultimate in pressing quality. The album is also available as a hybrid SACD disc with a master DSD layer and a CD layer, and as a download bundle including DSD64, 192kHz/24-bit, 96kHz/24-bit and 44.1kHz/24-bit PCM formats.

The musicians include songwriter Jessica Carson (vocals and piano), Michael Wooten (drums), Giselle Collazo (vocals), Chris Brunhaver (bass) and Kyle Donovan (guitar, vocals). The album was produced by Jessica and Giselle.

The foundation of the album began with Jessica recording her piano parts on a Yamaha 7-1/2-foot concert grand piano at Animal Lane Studios in Lyons, Colorado. Next, the vocals and other instruments were tracked at Octave Records’ recording facility at PS Audio. These included Chris Brunhaver’s upright bass, viola and violin played by Miguel Ramos, and “The Burroughs” horn section featuring Alec Bell (trumpet), Scott Flynn (trombone), Hayden Farr (baritone saxophone) and Briana Harris (trumpet, horn arrangement).

Jessica Carson of Clandestine Amigo.

Jessica’s lead vocals and Giselle’s harmony vocals were recorded simultaneously using a single Tim de Paravicini-modified AKG C24 stereo mic and a Bock Audio 507 mic. A few vocal overdubs were added later but what you mostly hear are live, unedited vocal performances.

Click here to order Audiophile Masters Volume II, available in a limited edition of 1,000.

Click here to order Clandestine Amigo’s Temporary Circumstances on vinyl LP, disc or download bundle.

The Los Angeles Free Press, AKA “The Freep,” was started by Art Kunkin, a former organizer of the Socialist Workers Party. The first issue was published in May 1964, and that first issue sold approximately 1,200 copies at 25 cents each. Considering that The Los Angeles Times cost a dime back then, it might seem curious that people were willing to pay that amount, although, as one of the first “underground” newspapers, the Free Press certainly was a different kind of publication.

Pleased by this early success, Art Kunkin found some investors, and the Los Angeles Free Press became a weekly newspaper. It was said that Art wanted the format to be loosely based on New York’s The Village Voice. From its inception The Los Angeles Free Press championed personal freedom and was strongly involved in the anti-Vietnam war movement. It was an important voice toward changing America’s perception of the war. The Freep eventually became an editorial force to be reckoned with.

Art Kunkin, founder of the Los Angeles Free Press.

The newspaper was newsworthy in itself and was responsible for a plethora of creative and editorial discoveries including GUAMBO, the Great Underground Arts Masked Ball and Orgy, in July 1966. It was the Freep’s second anniversary, and a party that launched Frank Zappa’s Mothers of Invention.

Initially, it was staffed mostly by unpaid volunteers and for its first two years it had occupied a rent-free office space in the basement (truly an underground newspaper) of a Sunset Boulevard coffee house called the Fifth Estate. The place was the unofficial meeting place for street kids and teens. Those kids brought attention to the Sunset Strip, and many of that group initiated the later Sunset Boulevard riots.

Freedom of the press and free speech rules meant that newspaper publishers had the unregulated ability to sell their issues directly to the public. They could buy vending machines, place them on street corners and chain them to posts. I am sure all of you have noticed newspaper vending machines on sidewalks. Don Campbell, a Free Press editor, bought three of these newspaper vending machines for $125. Seeing their success, he bought more. They expanded their distribution to head shops and eventually had street vendors (Peter Sellers played a Freep vendor in the movie I Love You, Alice B. Toklas). Throughout West Hollywood you could hear the young hippies shouting, “Don’t be a creep, buy a Freep!” Street kids picked up bunches of papers from the printer and sold them, creating income for the kids and putting the paper all over Western Los Angeles.

Truly great local coverage put the LA Free Press on the map. An example was their in-depth coverage and analysis of the 1965 Watts riots (aka the Watts Rebellion or Watts Uprising), which put the concurrent LA Times reporting to shame and forced the latter to issue a retraction of their so-called analysis. After that the Times and the other local mainstream paper, the Los Angeles Herald Examiner, “lived in fear,” according to journalist Lionel Rolfe, of how the Freep would report on events, and it went from a little radical community hippie paper with an initial readership of less than 2,000 to a contender that would eventually claim a worldwide distribution of over 125,000. The actual readership must have been much higher. There were even copies in Vietnam, and I can state from personal experience that each copy was read by many soldiers.

By 1970 the Free Press had 150 employees, a yearly income of two million dollars, and had three bookstores, a publishing company, and a printing plant. Despite that, the paper was in terrible debt and near imploding. “There Should Be No Secret Police.” This August 1969 headline was the one that started the problems. Someone had given Kunkin a list of 80 names of undercover narcotics police, complete with home addresses and phone numbers.  Of course, he published that list. At that time there was a serious amount of community resentment toward the narcs. They were heavy-handed and had been doing things like breaking into people’s homes without warrants. Art had no problem using local citizens as sources, much to the chagrin of his editorial staff.

The narc issue caused many problems for the Freep, including dealing with the cost of lawyers and all kinds of legal issues, and harassment by government officials and agencies. That drained the Freep’s coffers. They had to come up with other ways to create income.

Like Screw magazine, the Free Press started to rely more and more on personal classified ads with no editorial restrictions. In 1973, Art declared bankruptcy and was forced to sell the paper to Marvin Miller, a sex industry investor. The Freep closed a short time later but that was only one period of the paper’s long and storied history…but I’m getting ahead of myself.

In 1969 John Carpenter was the music editor of the Los Angeles Free Press. One of the publication’s greatest strengths was its music coverage. Among the writers whose bylines appeared were those of Pete Johnson (my host on my first arrival to LA), Richard Cromelin, and Don Snowden, all three of whom also wrote for the LA Times. I had met John Carpenter through my sister Ellen and found him to be smart, engaging and a sarcastic SOB, but we seemingly got along and on occasion even had drinks together.

The 1969 Northern California Folk-Rock Festival in San Jose was going to be a big one. I had been at the offices of Freep when I heard about it, but alas, I didn’t have tickets. Loritta, John’s new secretary and hired just a few weeks earlier, wasn’t going either, because the Freep deemed her non-essential for the festival’s coverage and did not want to incur the additional financial burden of paying her expenses. Loritta and I had kinda clicked (she was quite attractive) and I was chatting with her at her desk. She asked me if I wanted to go with her and I said, “sure, but I don’t have tickets.” Loritta said, “Oh, but I have.” I asked, “how did you get them?” Smiling, she looked at me and asked, ”who do you think handles these things around here?” With a wicked grin she said, “I have backstage passes, press certification and anything else we need.”

It was going to be a long drive and she had just bought a new (used) car and wanted to drive it.

A 1955 Plymouth Savoy like the one Ken rode in to go to the 1969 Northern California Folk-Rock Festival. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/GPS 56 from New Zealand.

Like many of the cars from the 1950s, there was no radio. The stick shift was in the steering column, and the car had long bench seats front and back that could comfortably fit six adults. It was in good shape and rode well. The trip was long, six or eight hours and soon we had nothing to talk about. Our mutual attraction was slowly slipping away. Although it was a beautiful scenic trip, despite that fact, I was getting bored.

The Freep had temporary “war room” headquarters in a complex near the festival’s site. We walked in and John was surprised to see us, and was unhappy that I was with Loritta. He asked Loritta what she was doing with me, as if that was an uncool thing to do. We were kinda shocked, but obviously he was bothered by seeing us together. I was a bit put off as I thought we were friends.

Not wanting to be further dissed, I went into the next room, a VIP room where other press and staff from a few record companies were gathered. I was known to most of the A&R guys present. I asked a couple of guys from A&M Records if I could get a ride with them back to LA when they left. Sure, they said, that would be cool.

I went back to Loritta, and she seemed relaxed and was back in the good graces of John. I told her I had another ride back to LA. “OK, fine,” she said pleasantly (maybe relieved), and as I turned away, I thought to myself that she and John were on the verge of an affair.

Northern California Folk-Rock Festival poster, 1969.

From Wikipedia: “Radio station KSJO was warning listeners that the acts advertised on the poster for the 1969 Northern California Folk-Rock festival – particularly Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix – were not going to appear, as they were booked elsewhere at the time. This situation resulted in a lawsuit – paid for by Zeppelin – against the promoter, who retaliated by paying Hendrix $30,000, an unheard-of amount of money at the time and also paid to fly The Experience in by Lear Jet and play for half an hour.”

The San Jose-area concertgoers who’d been burned before got just a little uptight. Some of the locals had heard that Jimi Hendrix had been busted in Canada and couldn’t leave the country, but was previously booked on those dates. And yet he was the featured performer, mentioned prominently in the festival’s radio ads. A few long distance phone calls confirmed that The Jimi Hendrix Experience had not been booked for the event in San Jose. A few more calls verified that several other name bands mentioned in the ads had never heard of the promoter and hadn’t been booked to play his festival.

When I heard that the promoter had billed acts that were not contracted for the festival, I was reminded of an incident from my time working at the Psychedelic Supermarket (see my article in Issue 144). In the early days of the Supermarket, on Saturday nights the owners, brothers Mel and Gary, would have kind of a party at the store and everyone was welcome. The first couple of times it was nice. One time, just as we got ready to close Mel made an announcement that at next Saturday’s party there would be music performed by Poco. Everyone gasped and whooped. I walked over to Mel and said, “you didn’t book them.” He answered, “yes, I did! Can I help it if they don’t show up? Jeez!”

Before The Jimi Hendrix Experience would show up for the Northern California Folk-Rock Festival, they had insisted to be paid in advance. Made sense because the promotor had already demonstrated that he was a sleaze. In true Hollywood style, Jimi Hendrix’s agent was flown in by helicopter. He landed at the county fairgrounds and collected the 30 grand in cash.

I never thought of myself as a hippie, but I admired some of their values.

To be continued.

[The first installments of this series appeared in Issues 143, 144, 145, 146, 147 and 148 – Ed.]

The next morning, I awoke to the sounds of clattering tent poles. Unzipping my tent door, I was surprised to find that many of the renegades were packing up.

Others were sitting at the picnic table. Candy looked my way and explained, “They’re so bummed about the loss of Red that they don’t think they can enjoy the rest of bike week, so they’ve decided to ride home.”

She was consoling one of the other girls. Candy was always there when needed.

When the packing was done, everyone crowded ’round the table and Chip spoke up. “I’m just as upset about Red as those who are leaving, but I can’t do anything to reverse it, and I’m not going to let this ruin my trip. If you feel the same way, you can enjoy the rest of bike week with us and we’ll deal with our grief when we get home. I’ll organize a wake to give us some closure.

But if you feel the need to grieve now, you’re better off riding home with the others.”

This forced the renegades to make a decision, and most chose to leave with the rest of the group — including Gimp and Tina in the ugly school bus.

Chip, Candy, Spider, KP, and I stayed seated at the picnic table as we watched them pack. Candy ran to town for some coffee. We saw the guys whose bikes had been destroyed by the fallen branch get on their rental bikes and ride out for the day. City crews were removing the balance of the tree. Other riders rode by on their way to enjoy the day’s adventures. The trash truck made a ferocious racket emptying dumpsters. Spider and KP got up to help Gimp load his trike into the back of the ugly school bus. Campers strolled by and nodded on the way into Spearfish for breakfast. A couple of cops on Harleys cruised around to keep the peace. We waved at everyone, but said little.

Before finally departing, the renegades hugged each other, many with tears in their eyes. I felt a sense of loss as I watched them ride away.

Chip uttered, “let’s go have some breakfast.” We walked to town and sat down on the balcony of the same restaurant where we were the day before. Guys were still drag racing on the main street and girls still walked by barely clothed. The world went on without acknowledging the loss of Red.

After we ordered from the menu, Candy spoke up. “Like Red, I haven’t had a good upbringing, but that didn’t cause me to live in a bad headspace, and I’m certainly not self-destructive.”

“Nature has blessed you with a gorgeous appearance,” Chip responded; “You are treated differently than those who are plain. People will always rush to your defense and you’ll always be given the benefit of the doubt – even if you make foolish mistakes and errors in judgment. Others don’t have that advantage, and as a result, they see the world as more hostile. I’m sure Red did.”

“Where do you come up with these insights, Chip?” I inquired.

“My mother was an attractive woman before she got MS. I saw how other people looked at her in public before and after.”

I was disgusted by their ignorance and disdain, but she took it all in stride. When I asked her about it, she told me this story:

“Inside every mind lives a black dog and a white dog. The black dog is controlled by fear, so it is always barking and snapping at people. As a result, it lives a lonely, miserable life locked up in the back yard. The white dog is motivated by love, it has the courage to approach everyone with a wagging tail and a friendly demeanor. In return, it gets lots of love and attention and lives a satisfying, fulfilling life.”

Courtesy of Pexels.com/Lukáš Kováčik.

When I asked her which dog will control my life, she responded, “Whichever one you feed.”

Those words have guided me ever since.

“That’s beautiful,” Spider commented, “but you have a way of causing people to park their black dogs and ride only the white ones. How do you do that?”

Chip smiled. “The more black dogs you tolerate, the more black dogs you get.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re a big dude,” Spider retorted. “That attitude won’t work for a guy my size.”

“Really, Spider! Get up and walk to the door!” Chip demanded with authority. Spider rose hesitantly, walked to the door, then back to the table. “You don’t have to be a tough guy to do that. If you want to avoid black dogs, you just have to have the courage to walk away.”

KP nodded in agreement.

“Red never had that courage,” Chip asserted, “He absorbed the black dogs in others, which fortified the one inside of him. When it got big enough, it consumed his white dog. He hated himself for allowing that. I warned him that it would consume him too if he didn’t do anything about it, but I might as well have been talking to the picnic table.

“That’s why he never responded to love and attention, “Candy opined, “he felt he didn’t deserve it.”

“Red tried to hide his self-contempt through swearing and bravado – which is just another way of barking.” Chip continued, “He didn’t die from tragic circumstances, he was trying to prove to himself and others that he wasn’t a coward. In the process, his black dog consumed three lives. I’m having a hard time crying over his loss.”

A dark cloud of silence descended over the group. I was blown away by Chip’s analysis and his ability to explain sophisticated concepts in simple terms.

The restaurant filled up with bikers as we were waiting for our breakfast. Most of them were in a better mood than we were.

A short, heavy waitress brought our meals with a big smile. “You kids are going to love our country breakfasts,” she proclaimed, “made with love and care.” She leaned over to Chip and whispered, “sometimes they’re free if you agree to go out with the waitress.”

“Really?” Chip smiled.

“Not always,” she responded, “but it’s worth a shot.”

Everyone broke out laughing.

“You’re in a good mood today?” I observed.

“I’m in a good mood every day, Honey,” she responded; “there’s plenty of grief to go around without me adding to it.”

Everyone laughed again – I wondered if she realized how much power she’d wielded that day.

Afterwards, we took a stroll down the main street. This never gets old as there is always something to see.

In front of a service station, two guys were bracing a Shovelhead as a third kicked a jug with the flat of his boot. He put everything he had into dislodging the jug from the crankcase. They told me they were disassembling the engine to replace a broken rod. This was my first experience with the kick-start method of engine disassembly.

Diagonally across the street, a biker babe was using a similar method to tune-up her boyfriend. From the hollering, I surmised that he’d dislodged the wrong jugs the night prior. The sheriff’s deputies were watching the scene from a distance – ready to step in if things got out of hand.

We talked to a couple at the car wash who were cleaning a truckload of mud from their Electra Glide. That revealed a thousand nicks and dents in the paint. We asked about it as their bike didn’t seem that old. They told us that they’d just returned from a trip to Alaska, and that rock-spewing semis up there don’t slow down for motorcycles – or anything else. The guy showed us some bent cooling fins. The woman showed us a nasty bruise on her leg. I decided Alaska wasn’t in my future (I was wrong).

When we got back to camp, Chip determined that Mount Rushmore would make a nice destination for the day. We packed some gear and headed out. Candy rode behind Chip, I rode Spider’s Low Rider, and Spider rode “bitch” behind KP.

The wooded, mountain roads were narrow, twisty, and scenic as they ascended into the hills, perfect for a lugger like the Harley. I plunked it into third and rode it like an automatic.

We stopped frequently to enjoy scenes from the overlooks. That invariably led to discussions with other riders doing the same thing. I was surprised how many of them were from Germany. They looked more badass than the Americans – seems they love this outlaw biker thing. Perhaps it was a refreshing break from their over-regulated, over-monitored society.

KP and Spider argued about riding styles, Spider seemed concerned about his safety. KP told him to get off and walk if he wasn’t enjoying the ride. “I’ve been riding the same way for 20 years Dude, ain’t never dropped it. Can you say that?” (Ouch!)

I considered letting Spider have his Low Rider back and getting on behind KP, but on further reflection, naw. Spider wrecked my bike, he deserved this.

We came across an accident, which was particularly disturbing after the events of the previous day. Emergency personnel were already on the scene so we didn’t tarry.

When KP’s bike developed a carburetion glitch, we pulled over at the next scenic overlook to change a jet. The sound of wrenches clanking on the pavement drew other riders like free beer. Everyone offered advice about how to do it right, and a horror story about doing it wrong. One guy brought us a kit of about 30 jets neatly labelled and arranged on red foam inside a clear plastic box – he was German.

I walked to the edge of the parking area where Chip and Candy were sitting on a rock enjoying the scenery. A highway snaked through the trees in the valley below, and a pond was visible beyond that. Gophers were begging at our feet, and hawks were cruising for them in the air. No one said anything; we just sat there drinking in the scene. Then Spider came over to tell us KP’s carb adjustment was done.

“Sit down and have a beer Spider, enjoy the view for a while,” Chip suggested. Soon, KP joined us as well. He started to chat with Candy, but she motioned him to cease and desist, so we just sat there drinking in the scene while an endless parade of Harleys rumbled by on the highway. It was a transcendental moment.

Until the German with the carb jets sauntered over and babbled, “Dis is besser dan Time Skware, yah?”Chip rose and dictated, “We’re leaving.”

Confused, the German shrugged, “Was ist los?”

Candy responded, “It’s not you; we were just getting ready to leave.”

Editor’s Note: we are aware that “gimp” can have a derogatory meaning and mean no insult to anyone disabled. In the story, the person with that nickname doesn’t consider it as such, and we present the story in that context.

Header image courtesy of sturgismotorcyclerally.com.

In the 1950s, TV sets had lousy pictures – but some of them had rather good sound. Our 16-inch RCA TV (“that big screen in a 12 x 12-foot room?” said the neighbors; “you’ll go blind!”) showed images only in black and white, of course, with a 525-line vertical resolution (up to 486 of those lines visible) and about 440 pixels horizontally – about one-tenth the resolution of a 1080p digital TV. But the RCA had a wood, floor-standing cabinet, with an 8-inch speaker baffled on all sides except the back. Since all else we had were two Emerson AM radios, it had the best sound in the house.

And our TV had an audio input jack on the rear panel – RCA’s way of encouraging sales of the Victrola Attachment 45 rpm record changer, the company’s answer to the LP system Columbia Records had introduced a year or two before.

Aged 11, I’d been listening to our AM radios, largely to classical music from distant New York City. But with one of those little changers and some records, I could hear music of my choice whenever I wanted to. And, at $12.95 (including six records!) I could afford it from banked birthday money my parents hadn’t let me spend. I got Dad to break $25 loose from my savings account, and scampered down to Conn’s Record Shop on Church Street.

And what a haul! The RCA player, of course, plus Mario Lanza’s Great Caruso album (I wanted to sing like that tenor back then, though still a soprano at the time), a single by Caruso himself, one Spike Jones single, three Phil Harris discs, and another record or two that I’ve forgotten.

I wasn’t an audiophile yet, but I had two audiophile traits – a love of music and the urge to make improvements. The first one, at my urging but on Dad’s nickel, was to replace the 45-only changer with a Webcor 3-speed model, so we could play LPs, too. The second, once I’d been introduced to hi-fi by my high school chem teacher, was to replace the TV’s 8-inch driver with a $10 Lafayette SK-98 whose cone had a hardened center section for better highs. (I’ve heard since that it was made by Pioneer.) Rated response was “40 – 16,000 cycles per second,” numbers that meant nothing to me at the time.

That sufficed until I went off to Yale, and had to leave our TV console home. I bought a small, $15 ported enclosure from Lafayette, and a used Realistic 10- or 12-watt amplifier (built by Grommes) for $10 from my girlfriend’s father. I progressed from there to a used 25-watt Heathkit W5M amp and model WA-P2 preamp that took its power from an octal socket on the amp. The preamp’s main feature was selectable turnover and rolloff frequencies, to deal with the many company-specific record-equalization curves then prevalent; the RIAA curve was already in use, but there were still a lot of older discs out there. (Unfortunately, I couldn’t use that selectable EQ, because the Webcor had a ceramic cartridge that didn’t require equalization.) I also moved the Lafayette speaker to an RJ enclosure that I got cheap because the foam surround of the RJ’s original Wharfedale driver had rotted out.

 

Heathkit WA-P2 preamplifier.

Sophomore year, I roomed with guys who wanted something fancier, and in new-fangled stereo. Rather than pool our money for a jointly-owned system we’d have to sell off when we went our separate ways, we each bought one system component. I don’t recall what speakers we wound up with (AR-1s?), but I know we had a sleek-looking Fairchild arm, cartridge, and belt-drive turntable, plus an H.H. Scott stereo preamp and H.H. Scott 330 “binaural” tuner. The 330 had independent AM and FM tuner sections and dials, to take advantage of “simulcast” stereo with one channel on AM and one on FM. (Alas, the only station doing that near us was WQXR, in New York; since that was 80 miles away, we could only get the AM part.) To round out the system, we had two Dynaco Mk. III 60-watt amps.

 

Getting the amps was my job. Having very little money, I researched the hell out of my selection, to make sure I got maximum value. I’d hoped to find a book that would explain it all to me, but couldn’t, and resolved someday to write that book myself (which eventually led to my career in audio).

I took the next year off, living and working in New York. While there, I bought and built my first kit, an Eico HFT-90 FM tuner; its dial pointer glowed green in a pattern like an exclamation point that narrowed when you hit a station frequency. My dealer for that, Audio Workshop, not only sold kits but provided tools, bench space, supervision, and technical assistance, plus lockers where you could keep partly finished kits between sessions. Their technical assistance came in handy when I turned the Eico on and got smoke; I’d been supposed to wire pin 1 of one tube to pin 2 and pin 2 to pin 3; but then I went on to wire pin 3 to pin 4, too.

I noticed the Webcor had a two-position tracking force selector, a spring that could be moved from one hole to another. Having heard about the virtues of low tracking force, I moved it to its lower setting, then bought a stylus-force gauge to check the results. The gauge read up to 20 grams, but when I put the Webcor’s tone arm on it, it bottomed with a “clunk!” So, I replaced the Webcor: I got a Dynaco/B&O Stereodyne arm/cartridge that tracked at a then-remarkable 2 grams, and mounted it to a Weathers kit turntable.

Component turntables of the day had massive platters whose flywheel effect added speed stability. (The Fairchild, though, was available with an electronic speed control system.) Many, such as the popular Rek-O-Kut, had idler drives that interposed a rubber wheel between the motor shaft and the platter’s rim to gear the motor’s speed down. To provide the torque those heavy platters needed, the idler had to be heavy and stiff, and unless it was moved away from the motor shaft and platter when the turntable was off, the idler would develop flat spots, leading to thumps and speed irregularities in playback.

Dynaco/B&O pickup arm.

The Weathers did it differently. Its speed was regulated by a motor much like an electric clock’s. Since such motors had little torque, the platter had to be a light aluminum stamping. And since the torque involved was so small, the idler wheel could be of rubber too soft to develop flat spots – so there was no need for mechanisms to move it out of the way when the turntable was off. Simple. And therefore very, very cheap – just $50, as I recall.

Switching from the Webcor’s ceramic cartridge to the Dyna/B&O magnetic one called for a preamp. I could have used my Heathkit, since my Dyna amps also had sockets that could power it, but I was so close to having stereo I switched to a Dynakit stereo preamp. Click here to view the Dynaco PAS-2 assembly and owners manual.

Then, since I already had those two Dyna amps, all I needed was a second speaker. Another Audio Workshop customer sold me a working RJ Wharfedale, which I temporarily paired with my RJ-housed Lafayette speaker until I could get a matching Wharfedale driver. Now my first real stereo system was a-a-l-most complete. A few months later, I swapped the Eico tuner for a Magnecord PT-6 mono tape recorder whose transport had been taken apart. With the aid of a Sams Photofact service manual, one of my former roommates put it back together for me.

Magnecord PT-6 service and instruction manual.

And that was that.

For a year or so, anyway…

Header image: Eico HFT-90 FM tuner, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Joe Haupt.

Part One and Part Two of this series were published in Issue 147 and Issue 148.

Was DMM (direct metal mastering) ever intended to offer a sonic improvement, compared to “prior art”? When it comes to normal mass-produced vinyl records, it is hard to tell. Whether lacquer or DMM, the majority of records out there were never mastered (or even recorded) with absolute sound quality in mind. The development of disk mastering (and recording technology) reflected the general mood in the industry. Quantity over quality. More output for your investment. Professional recording equipment and disk mastering systems were being developed to allow less-skilled personnel to get the job done, faster. Not necessarily better, but faster. This is not to say that the equipment could not produce high-quality results. But this was neither the major selling point, nor its most popular application.

Which is why it is hard to really compare between DMM and lacquer strictly in terms of sound quality. Most of what we may not like in a record is more often than not a result of substandard recordings, mastering done in haste, inadequate quality control, or, all too often, desperate attempts to fix a not-so-good performance, to at least have a product to sell. It is extremely rare that we would really get to hear the actual full benefits of the technology. It is the human factor that overwhelmingly tends to underutilize the available technology, producing results that fall short of expectations and potential. Which is why properly made records can and do sound so impressive, when we come across them.

Both DMM and lacquer mastering have produced outstanding products, as has tape and even (I am clearly biased in favor of analog audio technology, but credit is due where credit is due) properly implemented digital technology.

It has been widely discussed, mostly in speculation, that DMM sounds harsh due to the use of a 30 kHz tone fed to the cutter head to assist with cutting the copper surface of the disk.

This is only partially true. In the very early days of DMM, the blanks were not very refined. The copper layer was quite hard, and to achieve the desired surface finish in the cutting operation, a 30 kHz tone was used to vibrate the cutting tool (stylus). This may seem like a bit of a crude afterthought, and for audio purposes, it probably was, but rather impressively, considering that this was the early 1980s, it was one of the first (if not the first) practical implementations of ultrasonic vibration-assisted machining, which is currently all the rage in the precision engineering and nanotechnology sectors.

This innovation was short-lived in disk mastering (fortunately for those with sensitive hearing), as Teldec promptly improved their blanks, using the softer copper phosphate layer that is still in use to the present day. So, with the improved blanks, the required surface finish of the groove could be achieved without having to resort to technologies that would be more appropriate in dental laboratories. The 30 kHz tone was turned off, and has remained off ever since. Günter Pauler has personally confirmed in private correspondence that they do not use the 30 kHz tone on their Neumann VMS-82 DMM lathes, at Pauler Acoustics/Stockfisch Records.

DMM Dubplate, Vol. 1.

Other authors, perhaps less familiar with the historical developments in disk mastering technology and industrial manufacturing, have speculated that the 30 kHz ultrasounds they can hear (!!!) or measure (more likely) on their DMM-mastered records must be a result of the cutting stylus “chattering” (uncontrollably vibrating as a result of the forces of the cutting operation). While this can occur, it is by no means a normal operating condition, neither on master disks, nor on machine tools of other kinds. I have personally measured all the DMM-mastered records in my collection for the presence of ultrasonic tones (30 kHz or otherwise) and have never detected any. I guess I do not own any of the early DMM records, which still used the old type of blank disk and the 30 kHz tone.

Having clarified and verified that the Stockfisch DMM Dubplate Vol. 1 does not contain any 30 kHz tones, we shall proceed to examine other important parameters. For instance, does it contain secret messages when played backwards? Nah, just kidding.

As with all masters, they can only ever be as good as the source they are created from. Somewhat surprisingly, the recordings contained in DMM Dubplate, Vol.1 all started life as 44.1 kHz/16 bit (CD-quality) digital recordings. Even nowadays, Stockfisch Records use a sampling rate of 44.1 kHz but at 24 bits, firmly believing it to be superior to higher sampling rates. This is based on a series of papers published by Dan Lavry, a manufacturer of popular converters in the professional recording and mastering world. Since then, many more recent papers have been published by leading authorities in digital audio and signal processing which challenge this point, concluding that there are significant advantages to using higher sampling rates.

My own scientific measurements can only confirm the technical advantages of the higher sampling rates, especially in the time domain, which often gets overlooked. However, Stockfisch Records are so confident about their preference of the 44.1 kHz sampling rate that they have even released a comparison test on USB stick, called “Trust Your Ears” (SFR 357.3003.0, 2017), offering direct comparisons between 44,1 kHz/16-bit, 96 kHz/24-bit, 192 kHz/24-bit, 2.8 MHz DSD, and 5.6 MHz DSD, each recorded natively from the same sources, a mechanical 16-inch cylinder music box and an analog magnetic tape. This will be reviewed in detail in a future issue.

Putting the needle down on DMM Dubplate, Vol. 1 for the first time, I was greeted with silence. I mean, serious silence. Which I sort of expected, being accustomed to playing back masters and mothers. These really demonstrate the true dynamic range potential of the medium, in a practically achievable setting, using existing playback technology. The grooves of DMM Dubplate, Vol. 1 are extremely silent, on par with any well-made master disk. A few seconds after the silence, the music begins almost unexpectedly, with pristine clarity and detail.

The transition from the most silent parts to the musical peaks is effortless and impressive. It is as silent as a master disk, but with the detail, dynamics and clarity of a metal mother. After all, the DMM Dubplate is at the same time both a master disk and a mother. It offers a truly intense listening experience, and all this from CD-quality source material!

Which brings us back to my point stated at the beginning of this piece: that it is indeed rare in audio for the technology to be used to its fullest potential. When it does, the results can be way beyond expectations. Undeniably, the tracks contained within DMM Dubplate, Vol. 1 are some of the finest 44.1 kHz/16-bit recordings ever made, transferred to DMM disk in what I would describe as the most elegant transfer possible.

Header image: Inés Breuer, Hendrik Pauler, Hans-Jörg Maucksch and Günter Pauler of Stockfisch Records.

I like physical media. There’s something about having the information and artwork that comes with LPs and CDs that seems essential to me. I like to be able to refer to the personnel, engineer, and producer of the music to which I listen. I have digitized hundreds of LPs in my collection and generally listen to those digital copies for the convenience factor. That said, I would never get rid of the originals for the above reasons.

Streaming or downloading digital files doesn’t really appeal to me. Unless you are running software like Roon, which gives a lot of information but sounds too daunting (for me) to implement, you get the music, maybe the artwork, and nothing else. Having spent almost 30 years in the retail record business, I own just about everything I want to hear. For the most part, new popular music leaves me cold. So much of it relies on repetitive rhythms and that affront to singers everywhere, auto-tuned vocals.

(I’ll step down from my soapbox now and get to the point of this article.)

Fifty years ago (give or take a few decades), when vinyl was the primary medium for recorded music, a lot of attention was paid to the visual presentation of the product. Album covers were designed to pique the consumer’s interest through images and, in some cases, creative packaging. Unusual shapes and materials were occasionally utilized instead of the standard square cardboard jacket. Extra inserts (beyond the inner sleeve) often accompanied new releases. Nowadays, it seems that only boxed sets and reissues include such bonus material.

Before we explore some examples of creative packaging, I want to show you what I think is the most subversively creative album cover of all time – XTC’s Go 2.

XTC, Go 2, front and back album covers.

This was created by the team at Hipgnosis (Aubrey Powell, Storm Thorgerson, George Hardie, and others), who were responsible for an incredible number of imaginative covers in the years before Photoshop. If your collection has a decent number of albums from the 1970s and 1980s, you probably have some of their work. Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Genesis, Yes, Al Stewart, UFO, Montrose, and 10cc are just a few of the artists whose albums featured Hipgnosis-designed covers.

Die-Cut Covers

One of the ideas for making a standard square cover stand out from the pack was to die-cut the corners and/or sides to give it a different shape.

Alice Cooper, Billion Dollar Babies album cover.

Billion Dollar Babies inside cover.

Alice Cooper – Billion Dollar Babies

The original issue of this gatefold album cover was designed to look like a snakeskin wallet with rounded corners. But that wasn’t all that set it apart – inside was a folded “Billion Dollar“ bill that measured 22 inches by 11 inches and featured a photo of the band in place of a presidential portrait.

In addition, one panel of the opened-up jacket had ten wallet-sized photos of the band members. The pictures were perforated at the edges so fans could tear them out if they wanted. The inner sleeve had a photo of the band on one side and a full lyric sheet on the other.

Gentle Giant, Octopus, US album cover.

Gentle Giant – Octopus (Domestic)

The import cover of this album featured a beautiful Roger Dean painting of a fierce-looking octopus. For the US release, Columbia Records chose an equally arresting illustration of an octopus preserved in a specimen jar. The cover was cut to mimic the contours of the jar and lid.

Horslips, Happy to Meet…Sorry to Part, front and back album covers.

Horslips – Happy to Meet…Sorry to Part (Import)

This import LP from Irish folk rockers Horslips was cut in the octagonal shape of a squeezebox (accordion), and the filigree pattern of the ends was also elaborately cut. The cover folds open with three pages of band photos and info. The inside back panel lists the tracks.

Monty Python, Matching Tie and Handkerchief, front cover and insert.

Monty Python – Matching Tie and Handkerchief (Import)

I can’t vouch for the domestic release of this LP, but the British edition was something special. Shaped to look like a gift box with a rectangular cutout showing the titular items (on an insert), it held two surprises. There was more to the tie and handkerchief illustration than what was seen through the cover. When you pulled the insert out, it revealed that the accessories were being worn by a man who was grotesquely, but comically, hanging from a gallows. The biggest surprise was on Side Two of the LP – it was cut with two interlaced spiral grooves, each with half of a side’s worth of different material. When you set the stylus down, you never knew which routines you would hear, and it was possible to hear the same stuff several times before finding the other bits.

Todd Rundgren, A Wizard, A True Star album cover.

Todd Rundgren – A Wizard, A True Star

This wild album had a die-cut cover and numerous inserts. One item was a poem (by a pre-Horses Patti Smith) that was printed on the enlarged image of a Band-Aid. Another was a postcard that said if you mailed it back to Todd, he’d put your name on his next album. Of course I sent it in. Fun story: I was in college at the time, and because I had obtained a (mail-order) Universal Life Church ordination, I signed my papers “Rev. Richard N. Isaacs.” It was a great way to meet my instructors – the professor wanted to know who the minister was in the class. My then-girlfriend’s nickname was “Duck,” so I signed the postcard “Rev. Richard N. Isaacs & Duck.” When the next album, Todd, came out, the thousands of names were printed in alphabetical order, run together in very small type of varying shades of grey to form an image of Rundgren on a two foot by two-and-a-half-foot poster (see photo). When I found my name, it was followed by “Suzanne Isaacs” (no relation), making it read like “Rev. Richard N. Isaacs & Duck Suzanne Isaacs.” Somewhere in the world, there’s a Todd Rundgren fan wondering, “who the #@*! is this Reverend and how did I become Duck Suzanne Isaacs?”

Poster insert for Todd album.

Immortalized!

The Small Faces, Ogdens' Nut Gone Flake, front and back album covers.

The Small Faces – Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake (Import)

This concept album cover was designed to look like a tobacco tin from British tobacconist Ogden, with the original “Nut Brown” designation changed to “Nut Gone.” The cover folded out into four circular panels, one of which was a photo of the contents of said tin. Some CD reissues came in an actual metal tin.

Traffic, The low spark of high heeled boys, front and back album covers.

Traffic – The low spark of high heeled boys

This was cut at diagonally opposite corners (upper right and lower left) to give the impression of a cube. The copy shown is my Japanese pressing, which did not have cut corners – they printed it on a standard square with the “missing” corners in white. Traffic used the same die-cut profile for their next album, Shoot Out at the Fantasy Factory.

Embossed Covers

Another technique used to enhance the distinctiveness of album covers was embossing (having raised elements).

Kevin Ayers, The Confessions of Dr. Dream and other stories album cover.

Kevin Ayers – The Confessions of Dr. Dream and other stories (Import)

This is a very elegant cover. Not only are the colored faces embossed; the entire jacket is laminated for a glossy look.

Robert Calvert, Captain Lockheed and the Starfighters, front and back album covers.

Robert Calvert – Captain Lockheed and the Starfighters (Import)

This cover’s more subtle. The model jets on the wall are embossed, and the title is in silver foil letters. The back cover shows the models in pieces on the floor and each piece is also embossed.

This was a concept album about Germany’s ill-fated acquisition of Lockheed F-104 Starfighter military jets. The Germans had ordered modifications to the design to make it carry more of a payload, resulting in instability and numerous crashes.

Robert Calvert was a member of Hawkwind, and the record featured all the members of Hawkwind, along with Arthur Brown and Brian Peter George St. John Le Baptiste De La Salle (Eno). Vivian Stanshall (Bonzo Dog Band), Jim Capaldi (Traffic), and others contributed as actors for the spoken-word material.

Kraftwerk, Ralf and Florian album cover.

Kraftwerk – Ralf and Florian (Import)

Kraftwerk’s third album was recorded and released just before the synth-rock pioneers hit it big with Autobahn. It was released in the US with a different (and less striking) cover. The UK edition featured embossed fluorescent pink lettering and golden circuit board traces, giving it a very classy look.

Allsorts, front and back album covers.

Various Artists – Allsorts (Import)

In this instance, the embossing served a more utilitarian purpose. UK label Track Record printed many of their covers with Braille information on the back (and occasionally the front). The dots can be seen on the back cover photo.

In Part Two, we’ll take a look at other tricks that were used to catch the buyer’s attention, including 3-D artwork.

Just so there are no misunderstandings, I have to explain to you how focused is my interest in reel-to-reel tape. I absolutely don’t want to be challenged or trolled by studio denizens about why did I forget about such-and-such, 30 ips is better, yadayadayada. My interest is, firstly, ONLY about playback and, secondly, about domestic machines because I only care about pre-recorded open-reel tapes.

Thus, you will not read in my jottings anything to do with professional machines, the current availability of fresh blank tape, mixing desks, how to ensure correct record levels, microphones, ad infinitum. That’s because not only am I concerned exclusively with pre-recorded tape, my interest is also restricted to what we might call The Original Open Reel Era. For clarity, the tapes you can buy today from the Tape Project, Fonè, STS, et al, comprise what I will call The Open Reel Revivalists.

Simply put, I have no intention of recording anything live or off-air, though I will, at a later point, touch on the cult interest in transferring CDs or even LPs to tape, by those who find it improves the sound. Moreover, I am fully aware that there are countless audiophiles using professional machines, especially the much-coveted Studer 800 Series decks in 1/2-track form, in their sound systems. Mazel tov to them. But pro decks, in the main, relate to my field of interest as howitzers do to water pistols.

Finishing off with the hardware element for the time being, as I understand it, the production of open-reel machines (pro or domestic) from major makers ended around 2010 with the last of the Otaris. The end of quantity- or series-production tape decks for studios is not something I have researched, so I am going on what I was told by professionals. Since then, what you have are virtually bespoke, limited production items from specialists like Ballfinger, or resuscitated decks from the various restorers and resellers of Technics, TEAC, ReVox, and other rescued units.

For purely domestic open-reel tape recorders, from Akai, Sony, Pioneer and so on, I would have imagined that they ceased production in the early-to-mid 1990s. That certainly applies to one of the most important and popular manufacturers, which – according to authors Luca Maria Olgiati and Paolo Bologna, in their definitive history – show that ReVox’s last open-reel machine, the PR99 Mk III, was made in 1993.

[For the full saga, get a copy of their superb book, ReVox Reel to Reel Tape Recorders 1949-1993 (ReVoxMania, ISBN 978-1-36-659060-2). I found mine on Amazon.]

Finishing off with the hardware, the puzzler in my arsenal is the Otari MX5050 because I always thought of that brand as pro-only, yet here is a machine which, like the Technics RS-1500, plays three speeds and two formats. And who ever used 1/4-track in studios? Even if I lost all my other machines, between the Otari and the Technics there isn’t a commercial pre-recorded tape, whether Original Open Reel Era or current 15 ips stuff, which cannot be played.

Now back to pre-recorded tape. Roughly speaking, commercially-available pre-recorded tapes date from the early 1950s to the mid-1980s. I have not found any open-reel tapes from any of the major labels after 1984 or so. From that point onward, as exemplified by early, pioneering open-reel specialists like Chad Kassem’s Acoustic Sounds, the aforementioned Tape Project and Foné, and the others which emerged in their wake, nearly all post-1980s pre-recorded tapes are 15 ips, two-track recordings on 10-inch spools, with prices that, frankly, are forbidding, even though they simply reflect the costs of making pre-recorded tapes today.

Let’s deal with the Revivalists at this point. I have nothing but the utmost respect for them, and understand why they have to charge anywhere from $200 to $800 for their tapes. This is not the place for a lesson in economics or commerce – if you don’t believe in profit margins, flights will soon resume to Cuba, Belarus or North Korea – but these guys have to add a markup. When the best price for a 10-inch spool of raw tape is anywhere from $70 – $100 (and as the majority of the labels seem to be in Europe, so you must add shipping and duty to US-sourced blanks), you’re already into three figures.

Then we come to the available recordings on the revivalist labels. These are divided between reissues of material from known artists, such as the Tape Project’s titles by Linda Ronstadt and Creedence Clearwater Revival, to what I can only describe without being mean or cynical as “audiophile repertoire.”

For those of you old enough to remember the heyday of audiophile vinyl, when any Japanese pressing was considered gold dust and direct-to-disc was the height of sonic excellence, the cliché was “great sound – a shame about the music.” Part of the problem, according to the musicians, was that direct-to-disc recordings did not enable multiple takes and editing was categorically out of the question, so performances were cautious or even stilted. Despite the involvement of wizards like Doug Sax, Lincoln Mayorga, Keith O. Johnson, and others of that caliber, the audiophile genre never threatened the appeal nor sonic supremacy of recordings from the best years of Mercury, RCA, Capitol, Columbia or Decca/London.

While there were some stunning and desirable titles on audiophile labels, from artists including Taj Mahal, Thelma Houston, Earl “Fatha” Hines, Ry Cooder and others, for the most part what you ended up with were LPs you played once, put away, and only retrieved when friends came over to hear your new preamp or cartridge. One suspects they were only played repeatedly by retailers, or exhibitors at hi-fi shows. Huh? You actually listened voluntarily to the Sheffield Lab Drum Record for pleasure? Don’t tell me: you also pour a brandy and groove on Shure test disc LPs. Hmmm…the only audiophile LPs I still play are reissues via Mobile Fidelity, Nautilus and others, of known titles.

 Each of these five boxes holds 19 tapes – and this is just half of KK's soundtracks collection.

It’s the same problem with contemporary open-reel tapes. For those re-issuing familiar works, in addition to the cost of the blank tapes, the high cost of maintaining machines for duplicating, and the need to make copies in real time, comes the swingeing cost of royalties. One label with which I discussed the idea of releasing even big-ticket, ultra-limited runs of open-reel editions of their titles simply stated that, when compared to LPs and SACDs, the costs of labor, materials, but especially royalties based on a percentage of the retail price, it is simply not worth the effort for sales which might be as low as a few dozen, if even a few hundred.

So, what does that leave? If you’re not able to reissue known works under license, then you are forced to record new repertoire. Paying the performers, booking a concert hall, funding an orchestra – it isn’t cheap unless you think you can get away with some unplugged troubadour recorded in your living room.

Every once in a while, however, something amazing will slip through, like Eleanor McEvoy’s Forgotten Dreams on Chasing the Dragon. In addition to being an intimate, live set from a much-loved vocalist, the label even eased the pain of acquiring a copy by offering it not just on direct-cut vinyl, CD, and its premium 15 ips, 10-inch, 2-track tape, they also made it available on 7-1/2 ips/7-inch for a massive savings (£350 for 15 ips vs £215 for 7-1/2 ips).

But that’s the exception. The bulk of current pre-recorded open-reel tapes involve artists you probably never heard of, playing music which is best described as “special interest.” If – and I am totally not expecting this to happen – pre-recorded open-reel tapes are going to transcend the few hundred enthusiasts wealthy enough to indulge in them, then we’re gonna need reel-to-reel copies of Dylan or Adele or Marvin Gaye or Queen or ZZ Top or Taylor Swift or Elton John or even Ed Sheeran, and for under $200 apiece. And I base that latter figure on how Mobile Fidelity sells out of every one of its Ultradisc One-Step LPs at $125 a pop, in runs now typically hitting 7,500 copies.

Which is where I came in, finding original pre-recorded tapes no newer than 35 years old, probably stored in a garage or attic, covered in mouse droppings, poorly spooled, with split boxes and smelling like a corpse. Next time, we’ll discuss the trials, tribulations, and credit card flexing required to build up a library of tapes worth playing. And yes, I’m in love with one containing folk tunes from Peru.

Header image: Just one of KK’s latest finds on eBay – not bad for under $100 including shipping to the UK and criminal import charges.

This is KK's go-to machine for playing every format: the Otari MX5050, which accommodates three speeds, half- and quarter-track, and both CCIR and NAB equalization. The Technics RS-1500 or RS-1700 can do the same, minus CCIR EQ.

Now back to pre-recorded tape. Roughly speaking, commercially-available pre-recorded tapes date from the early 1950s to the mid-1980s. I have not found any open-reel tapes from any of the major labels after 1984 or so. From that point onward, as exemplified by early, pioneering open-reel specialists like Chad Kassem’s Acoustic Sounds, the aforementioned Tape Project and Foné, and the others which emerged in their wake, nearly all post-1980s pre-recorded tapes are 15 ips, two-track recordings on 10-inch spools, with prices that, frankly, are forbidding, even though they simply reflect the costs of making pre-recorded tapes today.

Let’s deal with the Revivalists at this point. I have nothing but the utmost respect for them, and understand why they have to charge anywhere from $200 to $800 for their tapes. This is not the place for a lesson in economics or commerce – if you don’t believe in profit margins, flights will soon resume to Cuba, Belarus or North Korea – but these guys have to add a markup. When the best price for a 10-inch spool of raw tape is anywhere from $70 – $100 (and as the majority of the labels seem to be in Europe, so you must add shipping and duty to US-sourced blanks), you’re already into three figures.

Then we come to the available recordings on the revivalist labels. These are divided between reissues of material from known artists, such as the Tape Project’s titles by Linda Ronstadt and Creedence Clearwater Revival, to what I can only describe without being mean or cynical as “audiophile repertoire.”

For those of you old enough to remember the heyday of audiophile vinyl, when any Japanese pressing was considered gold dust and direct-to-disc was the height of sonic excellence, the cliché was “great sound – a shame about the music.” Part of the problem, according to the musicians, was that direct-to-disc recordings did not enable multiple takes and editing was categorically out of the question, so performances were cautious or even stilted. Despite the involvement of wizards like Doug Sax, Lincoln Mayorga, Keith O. Johnson, and others of that caliber, the audiophile genre never threatened the appeal nor sonic supremacy of recordings from the best years of Mercury, RCA, Capitol, Columbia or Decca/London.

While there were some stunning and desirable titles on audiophile labels, from artists including Taj Mahal, Thelma Houston, Earl “Fatha” Hines, Ry Cooder and others, for the most part what you ended up with were LPs you played once, put away, and only retrieved when friends came over to hear your new preamp or cartridge. One suspects they were only played repeatedly by retailers, or exhibitors at hi-fi shows. Huh? You actually listened voluntarily to the Sheffield Lab Drum Record for pleasure? Don’t tell me: you also pour a brandy and groove on Shure test disc LPs. Hmmm…the only audiophile LPs I still play are reissues via Mobile Fidelity, Nautilus and others, of known titles.

Each of these five boxes holds 19 tapes – and this is just half of KK's soundtracks collection.

It’s the same problem with contemporary open-reel tapes. For those re-issuing familiar works, in addition to the cost of the blank tapes, the high cost of maintaining machines for duplicating, and the need to make copies in real time, comes the swingeing cost of royalties. One label with which I discussed the idea of releasing even big-ticket, ultra-limited runs of open-reel editions of their titles simply stated that, when compared to LPs and SACDs, the costs of labor, materials, but especially royalties based on a percentage of the retail price, it is simply not worth the effort for sales which might be as low as a few dozen, if even a few hundred.

So, what does that leave? If you’re not able to reissue known works under license, then you are forced to record new repertoire. Paying the performers, booking a concert hall, funding an orchestra – it isn’t cheap unless you think you can get away with some unplugged troubadour recorded in your living room.

Every once in a while, however, something amazing will slip through, like Eleanor McEvoy’s Forgotten Dreams on Chasing the Dragon. In addition to being an intimate, live set from a much-loved vocalist, the label even eased the pain of acquiring a copy by offering it not just on direct-cut vinyl, CD, and its premium 15 ips, 10-inch, 2-track tape, they also made it available on 7-1/2 ips/7-inch for a massive savings (£350 for 15 ips vs £215 for 7-1/2 ips).

But that’s the exception. The bulk of current pre-recorded open-reel tapes involve artists you probably never heard of, playing music which is best described as “special interest.” If – and I am totally not expecting this to happen – pre-recorded open-reel tapes are going to transcend the few hundred enthusiasts wealthy enough to indulge in them, then we’re gonna need reel-to-reel copies of Dylan or Adele or Marvin Gaye or Queen or ZZ Top or Taylor Swift or Elton John or even Ed Sheeran, and for under $200 apiece. And I base that latter figure on how Mobile Fidelity sells out of every one of its Ultradisc One-Step LPs at $125 a pop, in runs now typically hitting 7,500 copies.

Which is where I came in, finding original pre-recorded tapes no newer than 35 years old, probably stored in a garage or attic, covered in mouse droppings, poorly spooled, with split boxes and smelling like a corpse. Next time, we’ll discuss the trials, tribulations, and credit card flexing required to build up a library of tapes worth playing. And yes, I’m in love with one containing folk tunes from Peru.

Header image: Just one of KK’s latest finds on eBay – not bad for under $100 including shipping to the UK and criminal import charges.

For some time now I’ve felt that Gary Richrath has been largely overlooked by the rock guitar universe for the contributions he made to modern music. As a founding member of the band REO Speedwagon, he single-handedly took songs that otherwise should have been categorized as Adult Contemporary and gave them a gilded yet harder edge. His distinctive guitar sound transformed ballads like “Keep On Loving You” and provided them with a solid rock footing and just enough sonic effects to make even the toughest guy in your high school nod with approval. REO wasn’t as gritty as Van Halen, but they didn’t have to be. Gary Richrath gave REO Speedwagon a credibility that helped the band find their own place in rock radio’s most competitive moment – the 1980s. The thunderous opening he delivers to “Don’t Let Him Go” is an example of what I believe continues to make the band a summer tour favorite.

Gary left the band in 1989, (because of rumored personality conflicts), and embarked on a solo career, releasing only one record, 1992’s Only The Strong Survive. It was short-lived. Health issues and other personal challenges would ultimately stop short his steady touring schedule and cause him to pass in 2015 at the age of 65.

Now, Richrath Project 3:13 (RP3), a band birthed out of Gary’s departure from REO, has released a never-before-seen video. There you find Gary Richrath in the studio with band front man Michael Jahnz working on the song “Help Me Save Me From Myself.” RP3 began here with Gary Richrath bringing the song to Michael Jahnz and then teaching it to him. That session launched a collaboration that Jahnz now celebrates with L.A. Is Mine, a new record that features tracks with Gary Richrath, some of the only remaining, never-before-heard tracks written and performed by Gary. The record includes three new Gary Richrath songs with him on guitar, five new originals without him, and re-recorded versions of REO Speedwagon’s “Ridin’ the Storm Out” and “Son of A Poor Man” as bonus tracks.

We had the opportunity to speak with Michael Jahnz about what it was like working with Gary Richrath, and how this project has generated an overwhelming level of renewed interest in the music of one of the most popular people to ever hold a 1959 Gibson Les Paul in his hands.

Ray Chelstowski: For me, Gary Richrath really was REO Speedwagon.

Michael Jahnz: I was with Gary since late 1988. He was the sound of REO Speedwagon and I’ve said that through many interviews. Frankly, I can’t believe the amount of outreach I am getting regarding Gary Richrath at this time, because I think if more of that had happened even when we put out the Only Strong Survive [album] in 1992 things might have turned out differently for him. REO Speedwagon was his life. He was married several times, he had many friends and acquaintances, but the band was HIS band. When you take someone’s lifeline away sometimes, they die, and that’s pretty much what I saw happen to Gary. I couldn’t stand to see him deteriorate like he did [with substance abuse]. It was really sad.

Gary Richrath. Photo courtesy of Brad Magon.

RC: When he left REO Speedwagon the band seemed to make an intentional turn toward ballads.

MJ: When I met him in 1988, he was still at the top of his game in terms of both playing and writing. He wanted to go back to the mid-1970s sound that REO had when they really started pounding the pavement. That was Gary. He wanted to bring that rock edge back to REO, but he couldn’t because of Kevin (Cronin, REO lead singer) and what they were doing with ballads. So basically, he turned to me. He had heard me singing Ride The Storm Out and wanted to jam with me and the band I was with at the time. So, we did, which led him to ask: “would you do demos with me?’ I said, “Are you kidding? Just tell me where to go!” I mean, I was just a kid from Milwaukee who had been a long-time fan! So, I started doing demos with him, just providing background vocals on three songs that he had written for the upcoming REO album. Then he asked me to do lead vocals and asked if I had any original material. After that we began to work together like crazy. There had been some discussions about him working with another singer, but in the end, he thought my voice was too powerful to pass up.

RC: When you headed out on the road with Gary, REO was also touring, no?

MJ: In 1989 we started doing shows together and in 1990 we got booked for an entire tour. That helped us get serious about doing an album and we were shopped around to a couple different labels. Crescendo [Records] picked us up, we put out the album in ’92, but it didn’t really get promoted. That was unfortunate, because at that time there were so many loyal Gary [and] REO fans behind what we were doing. We also started to have a lot of issues with REO. They had a record out on Epic with the current line-up they have today. We would be playing a place and they’d be playing a place, and there would always be the issue of who gets to do what at which show. Or we’d play a smaller venue but sell out and they’d play a bigger venue and there wouldn’t be as many people there. It was a cat and mouse thing. We tried to work around their schedule, and it still didn’t work. In the end, I think the pressures of that got to Gary as well.

RC: When you were on tour did you play songs from the REO catalogue?

MJ: Well, Gary wouldn’t play any of Kevin’s songs. He just refused. We did all “Gary” songs. Then one night everyone in the band twisted his arm a bit because we wanted to play “Roll With The Changes,” a song Kevin had writing credits on. Other than that, we played all songs that Gary had written, and then new songs from [the] Only The Strong Survive [solo album]. We also threw a few songs in that were works in progress. Even without those hits [from REO that Gary didn’t write, we] delivered a 90-minute set that really cranked and we were playing all of the time. From little bars to bigger outdoor festivals.

Michael Jahnz and Gary Richrath. Photo courtesy of Richrath Project 3:13.

RC: What’s the story behind the Richrath Project 3:13 name?

MJ: Richrath Project 3:13 is my band. I set up Project 3:13 years ago because Gary and I would always joke about the time [of] 3:13 AM, that for some reason, after 3:13 in the morning you have to put things down because it was time to call it a night. (laughs)

 

RC: How did the idea for this new record come about?

MJ: The idea came from having heard some of the duets that were produced with Nat King Cole and his daughter [Natalie Cole]. It was really cool how they blended two vocals from completely different eras together so well. So, I thought that since I had all of the master demos, if I could get his guitar digitized, it would be like he was playing right there in the studio with us, which is exactly what happened.

RC: Why release this now?

MJ: COVID is one of the things that held us back. Gary passed away in 2015 when I was working on my own stuff. Then I got a call from Crescendo Records and they asked if I’d be interested in putting together some tracks that had never been recorded. In 2019, the whole band flew out to Los Angeles. We did some shows and recorded about twelve new songs. We also began work on the songs that Gary and I had begun. Then in 2020 everything got cancelled, including our work with Crescendo. But I’m a fighter and decided that I wasn’t going to let this go. Ultimately [we] got asked to do the project through Dark Star Records. We went back to the studio and recorded much of the same stuff, and here it is.

Richrath Project 3:13. Photo courtesy of Anne Keuler.

RC: What condition were the demo tapes in?

MJ: An engineer that I work with took the 8-tracks that I had, which were in really good shape, and put them down to digital with Pro Tools. He made a few adjustments that made them sound great. As a band we recorded live like they did in the ’70s. Then we would play back the guitars through the headsets and anything that needed to be adjusted would be handled in the mix. It just sounds amazing having Gary’s guitar right there with us. Like I said, it was as if he actually was recording with us right there in the studio. And I was fortunate to record with him enough that I knew some of his techniques. I’m really proud of how it turned out and am really excited to have this music out there at a time, as I said, where interest in Gary Richrath seems to be at an all-time high.

 

Header image of Gary Richrath courtesy of Brad Magon.

A classic AR-XA turntable, circa 1960s. As Ivan Berger noted in his article in Issue 105, hundreds of thousands were sold. Photo by Howard Kneller, from The Audio Classics Collection.

Elegant simplicity: the AR-XA pivot and counterweight.

This example even has the original box.

That's the signpost up ahead! Your next stop: the audio Twilight Zone, by way of this early 1970s Wega Studio 3300 music system.

From the people who brought you the Etch a Sketch: a circa 1967 Mighty Tiny record player, made by Ohio Art.

With a deep, earnest voice that was as sincere as it was expressive, Joe Williams moved jazz singing in a new direction.

Although he was born in Georgia, Williams grew up on Chicago’s South Side, where he was part of the vibrant gospel scene. In 1937, at the age of 19, he took his first solo jobs at area clubs. Soon he was contracted for a tour with the bandleader Les Hite. His reputation got the attention of Lionel Hampton, who was always on the lookout for more musicians to add to his vast touring machine. Coleman Hawkins hired him too.

But it was at home in Chicago that his biggest break came, singing as he often did at the high-end Club DeLisa on South State Street. That’s where Count Basie heard him in the early 1950s and snatched him up for a five-year gig as the singer with the Count Basie Orchestra. Their 1955 recording of “Ev’ry Day I Have the Blues” was selected in 1992 for the Grammy Hall of Fame. Besides lots of records and shows with Basie, Williams also made two celluloid appearances with him, in Jamboree and the Jerry Lewis vehicle Cinderfella.

After his time with Basie, Williams went on to an illustrious solo career, appearing on TV variety shows and at festivals and clubs worldwide. Late in life, he performed mainly in Las Vegas (plus occasionally on Sesame Street!). He died in 1999 when he was 80.

Enjoy these eight great tracks by Joe Williams.

1. Track: “Roll ’Em Pete”
   Album: Count Basie Swings, Joe Williams Sings
   Label: Clef
   Year: 1955

Count Basie Swings, Joe Williams Sings was the first album that Williams made with the Basie orchestra. It was produced by Norman Granz for his own Clef label, a subsidiary of Verve.

“Roll ’Em Pete,” by Pete Johnson and Big Joe Turner, demonstrates why Williams is perfect for Basie’s needs: he had the unusual ability to communicate with the listener in a straightforward way while using his voice in complex ways that took advantage of both the blues and swing elements of the Basie sound.

2. Track: “Can’t We Talk It Over”
   Album: A Man Ain’t Supposed to Cry
   Label: Roulette
   Year: 1958

Besides the high-energy jump blues that Williams was known for at Basie gigs, he was also a master of the mellow tone and straight-up torch songs. A Man Ain’t Supposed to Cry is a collection of songs, arranged by long-time Basie arranger Jimmy Mundy, that exhibit that sentimental style.

“Can’t We Talk It Over” was composed by string orchestra leader Victor Young, with lyrics by Ned Washington (who also wrote the words to “Rawhide,” of all things!). Williams always has a slight crack in his baritone voice, giving him more texture and interest than a lot of crooners of this period and contrasting perfectly with the silky-smooth string arrangement.

3. Track: “Shake, Rattle and Roll”
   Album: Everyday I Have the Blues
   Label: Roulette
   Year: 1959

Another of many collaborations with Basie, this time with his orchestra, Everyday I Have the Blues was named after the Basie/Williams hit single from a few years before.

Charles Calhoun’s proto-rock and roll number “Shake, Rattle and Roll” lets Williams show his rollicking side. And Basie is clearly having a barrelhouse ball at the piano. At around the 2:00 mark, Williams really starts to let loose, sliding around the pitches with a humorous wink.

4. Track: “September in the Rain”
   Album: Joe Williams Live! A Swingin’ Night at Birdland
   Label: Roulette
   Year: 1962

There’s a special joy in a great live jazz album, since the genre is so reliant on extemporaneous musical decisions. Joe Williams Live! A Swingin’ Night at Birdland captures the singer’s electricity before a live audience. He’s joined by a sizzling quintet of instrumentalists, including trumpeter Harry “Sweets” Edison and tenor saxophonist Jimmy Forrest.

The track list is a pleasing mix of blues-based jazz tunes and American popular standards from the Tin Pan Alley days. In the latter category is Al Dubin and Harry Warren’s “September in the Rain.” The interaction between a mellow-sounding Williams and pianist Hugh Lawson is especially sweet.

5. Track: “Evil Man Blues”
   Album: Presenting Joe Lewis and Thad Jones – Mel Lewis Jazz Orchestra
   Label: Solid State
   Year: 1966

One of the musicians in the Basie orchestra was a spectacular trumpeter named Thad Jones. A gifted arranger and conductor himself, Jones ran his own big band with drummer Mel Lewis. Of course, Williams and Jones knew each other well from their time with Basie.

Here they’re doing a slinky arrangement of “Evil Man Blues,” a song you might recognize if you’re a fan of the John Wick film franchise, which uses the Candy Shop Boys’ recording in the first of those movies. In this Williams version, notice the angular syncopation; Lewis brought in a freer, post-swing sound, different from the Basie style.

6. Track: “I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart”
   Album: The Heart and Soul of Joe Williams and George Shearing
   Label: Sheba Records
   Year: 1971

The pairing of Williams’ voice and the pianistic panache of British master George Shearing is truly a treat. Shearing’s own label, Sheba Records, released The Heart and Soul of Joe Williams and George Shearing.

Besides the fluid way these two musicians work together, this album is also special for its repertoire. It had been a while since Williams put on his crooner hat and sang a collection of romantic songs. Here is Ellington’s “I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart,” featuring a lighter-than-air swing. The excellent cymbal work is by Stix Hooper.

7. Track: “Hold It Right There”
   Album: Nothin’ But the Blues
   Label: Delos
   Year: 1984

Williams won the 1985 Grammy Award for Best Jazz Vocal Performance thanks to his work on Nothin’ But the Blues, a collaboration with Red Holloway and His Blues All-Stars. The track list is packed with the kind of jazz songs that use the voice as just one of the band instruments, the kind of material Williams often sang with Basie, but leaning toward the bebop edge of rhythm.

Two pioneers of bebop, Clark Terry and Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson, wrote “Hold It Right There.” In fact, Vinson sings with Williams on this recording. Holloway’s band is tight, with an organ (Jack McDuff) giving the horns a slick harmonic rink to skate on.

8. Track: “War No More”
   Album: I Just Want to Sing
   Label: Denon
   Year: 1985

A true gem among Williams’ prolific output is this rare recording of the African-American spiritual “War No More” (more commonly known as “Down by the Riverside), buried in a collection of more expected genres on the album I Just Want to Sing.

In an arrangement by Chicago-based bassist Johnny Pate, Williams takes it slow and quiet, his long lines punctuated by gentle dissonant chords from the horns. It’s a moving rendition that reminds us how Williams started his musical life singing gospel.

Header image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Brianmcmillen.

I previously covered a list of some of Dionne Warwick’s biggest hits through the 1960s. This second part of my Warwick survey includes some noteworthy hidden gems in her catalog. While some of these may have appeared on a Rhino compilation of the same name (Hidden Gems), many of these are album cuts that I particularly liked for the Bacharach/David songwriting, Bacharach’s arranging and conducting, and/or Warwick’s performance.

Warwick gives Dusty Springfield’s “The Look of Love” a run for the money with this sultry tune. Not only are the Hal David lyrics noteworthy, her performance here is appropriately soft and inviting. Here she is!

This next one was a non-album hit for Warwick, and is one of my favorite Hal David lyrics as well. It’s one thing to leave your lover. It’s another to not even say goodbye at the end of a beautiful love affair, culminating in a half-filled tube of toothpaste and half-filled cup of coffee. All to a swinging beat, with one of Bacharach’s trademark touches – a tack piano punctuating the verses, and a whimsical touch that belies the serious lyrics. (The video claims this is an “alternate version” but I don’t hear anything different from the single version I have long been familiar with.)

“Paper Maché” is one of Hal David’s “message” lyrics, this one subtly poking a stick at materialism.

This tune was part of the music production for the Broadway musical Promises, Promises. Hal David’s lyrics here are among his finest, portraying a person at odds with herself as well as her love interest.

Another gem from the back catalog – “Walk The Way You Talk.”

Warwick apparently did not care for the lyrics to this tune, but sang it nonetheless. The arrangement is dense, in a style Bacharach leaned toward near the dawn of the 1970s. As with many Bacharach tunes of this era, the last section of the tune is fashioned as a coda, leading the song to a fadeout.

The lively tune “Another Night” barreled its way up to Number 49 on the Billboard Hot 100. It’s originally from her album Windows of the World.

This is an album track from Dionne’s Promises, Promises album, which was not part of the musical production.

Album and Compilation Recommendations

Dionne Warwick has been anthologized dozens of times over the years, hundreds if you also include vinyl releases. If you would like to test the waters, I would suggest finding The Dionne Warwick Collection and Hidden Gems, both issued by Rhino. The bulk of the tracks will be Bacharach/David compositions. My recommendation is to stick to releases that are released by or licensed from Rhino. For the uber-collector, there is the recent Odds and Ends compilation that rounds up some rarities and alternate versions of her Scepter Records recordings, including foreign language versions of a few of her hits, and a track compiling a handful of radio promo spots and public service announcements.

The individual albums all appear to be available via Qobuz as well, and, I would imagine, all the other popular streaming services. There were 14 original Scepter albums* and one on Warner Bros. (Dionne) that included Bacharach/David tunes from the ’60s and early ’70s. Unfortunately, the four sets of CDs I purchased on the Edsel label in the UK (licensed through Rhino) are out of print and expensive, but across nine CDs, they covered 16 Dionne Warwick albums plus 22 non-album tracks. (I ordered all four from Amazon UK for a total of £35.28, including shipping via Royal Mail. Today, you’d be lucky to find one of those sets for that price.)

Some streaming services like Amazon, Spotify and others are listing The Complete Scepter and Warner Albums as an option, but I am unsure if this streaming compilation includes the non-album tracks.

(*The Scepter albums include Presenting Dionne Warwick; Anyone Who Had a Heart; Make Way for Dionne Warwick; The Sensitive Sound of Dionne Warwick; The Windows of the World; In the Valley of the Dolls; Promises, Promises; Soulful; Here I Am; Live in Paris; Here Where There is Love; On Stage and In The Movies; I’ll Never Fall in Love Again; and Very Dionne.)

The next Burt Bacharach installment will round up his own recordings from the late ’60s through the mid ’70s, including the first Number One hits for Bacharach and Hal David.

Header image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Montclair Film.

The AudioEngine HD4s are quite handsome in the walnut veneer finish.

I’ve been fortunate enough for the last couple of decades to have a dedicated listening room in all of my homes. And when I moved into the new house my wife and I built just over four years ago, I was able to step up to one that is substantially larger, has almost perfect Cardas Golden Ratio dimensions, and also has dedicated electrical wiring. I had a bit of a slap-echo problem early on, but I’ve since overcome that issue with additional and more well-placed acoustical treatments. I’ve finally arrived with a room that’s both supremely quiet and has exceptional acoustics. My wife wanted a gourmet kitchen and a larger space for her wool and dye setup (she’s a textile artist), and I wanted a bigger, better listening/AV room. We both got what we wanted in the new house.

One of the last reviews I did prior to moving out of the old house was for the AudioEngine HD6 powered loudspeakers ($699 USD), which are still the company’s top-of-the-line in terms of both pricing and performance (you can read that review here). My bottom line takeaway from that review was that, if the situation dictated that I had to downsize from my big rig to only a pair of powered loudspeakers, HD6s were so incredibly good that I could easily do it with no regrets. I’m not joking – the HD6s are extremely well-made and good-sounding loudspeakers that have power to spare and imaged like nothing I’d ever heard at the price point. Think about it – with a great-sounding pair of powered loudspeakers, you really only need a good digital source component. Perhaps one that’s compatible with most high resolution file formats, and having access to either Tidal or Qobuz would be nice as well. Having a “library-on-the-fly” provided by a good streaming source would pretty much eliminate the need to manage multiple terabytes of digital storage.

My Euphony Summus/Endpoint server/streamer has been updated with an I2S card, and retails for around $10k. Can I just walk away from its seductive musicality?

While I have definitely pondered life without the big stereo rig, at the point when the review was over, it never seemed even remotely possible or probable. And I promptly gifted the HD6s to a young couple with a new baby who’d just moved into their first home. I’ve been kicking myself in recent months, because now that I’m approaching retirement (in 18 months) I’m getting all these overtures about possibly moving again. We’ll either: 1) ditch all our belongings, buy a Winnebago, and see the USA before we kick out, or, 2) follow our daughter to wherever on the Northeast seaboard they end up (very likely Providence, RI), where we’ll likely be in a very small house or apartment with no place for a listening room. This new set of circumstances has been slowly evolving for about a year now. The Fiio M9's built-in AKM DAC can handle DSD 64 and 128, PCM up to 24/192, and can support 4 GB of internal storage. With apps for Tidal and Qobuz, the portable digital audio player is a perfect source for the AudioEngine powered loudspeakers.

I’m basically an old-school audio guy, whose ideal setup always revolved around having a dedicated listening room. At the old house, there was a high-res projector and a 9-foot screen in the room, so it did double-duty for dedicated listening and home theater. Simply raising the screen revealed all my on-wall room acoustical treatments, so even an audio-only setup worked really well in that environment. When we decided to sell and build the new house, our real estate agent wasn’t too keen on the home theater, and encouraged us to empty it and let the next buyer use their imagination for the space. But we were worried that the house might not sell at the price point we wanted, and decided to leave the home theater setup, with jacked-up 7.1 home theater receiver, projector and 7.1 loudspeakers and subs as part of the deal. Not to mention a pair of Italian leather high-end home theater chairs. The house sold in three days for $30k over the asking price, with the new buyer citing the presence of the home theater setup as what sealed the deal! How am I supposed to walk away from turntables, tubes, and impressive Class D amplification?

So we get to the new house; the AV room is much bigger, with much more room to comfortably set up seating, equipment, etc. – but it’s in the basement, and my wife decided that she no longer wanted to do stairs every night just to watch TV or a movie. The home theater was out, and surprisingly, I was totally okay with it – I was actually pumped that I was going to have a dedicated listening environment, where the stereo wouldn’t be competing with the home theater rig, and where I wouldn’t have to worry about my wife’s wool and textile projects constantly lying around all over the room. And especially, the presence of wool dust everywhere, which is a particularly vexing problem when you’re trying to spin the occasional LP while also hoping to maintain something approaching a “clean room” environment. Overall, I couldn’t have been happier.

A couple of years ago, a lot of social media conversations began regarding women and their involvement in high-end audio, encompassing those involved professionally in the high-end audio business, as well as how women were engaged with in-home audio environments. Suddenly, it was no longer completely cool for the guy to waltz off to the dedicated listening room and immerse himself in complete musical nirvana, while ditching any type of engagement with anyone else who might happen to be present in the home. I feel like I’m fairly connected with whatever might be happening around the house, and I can honestly say that my wife Beth is nowhere nearly as obsessed with audio as I am. But I was still observing some pushback over the segregation of the audio system away from everyone else in the new house. It definitely made me pause and reflect on my personal vision for how high-end audio should exist in the home environment, and how my equipment could be reconfigured to provide greater accessibility. And at the same time, not drastically degrade my perception of the level of fidelity presented by my audio system. Nothing has happened as of yet, but I’m definitely thinking a lot about how I need to alter my audio setup in some possible new (and not too distant) reality.

AudioEngine HD4 Powered Loudspeakers

The HD4 is essentially a scaled-down version of the HD6 that I so fell in love with five years ago. The HD4 employs a 4-inch aramid fiber woofer and .75-inch silk dome tweeter, compared to the 6-inch woofer and 1-inch tweeter used by the larger HD6. It’s available in a choice of real walnut veneer or satin-black furniture-grade cabinets with magnetic detachable grills, and the fit and finish is absolutely beautiful. As with all AudioEngine powered loudspeaker designs, the amplifiers and internal DAC are placed in the left loudspeaker cabinet, and the passive right loudspeaker is connected via a speaker-level umbilical cord, which is around 8 feet in length. This gives you plenty of room to space them out for good imaging; I’ve used them on stands and also on bookshelves on an entertainment unit, and have gotten good results from both. The HD4 is only flat to 60 Hz, while the slightly larger HD6 takes the bass down almost another half-octave to 50 Hz. And while both incorporate really high-quality Class AB amplifiers, the HD4 maxes out at only 120 watts of peak power (60 watts per channel peak) compared to 150 watts of peak power (75 wpc peak) for the HD6.

You only need access to one electrical outlet to power them, and if you use the available Bluetooth connectivity with your computer, Android, or iDevice, you won’t have to clutter your room with additional cords. As I mentioned in my review of the HD6, the Bluetooth sound quality is cutting edge and supremely musical. But in my day-to-day listening, I play a lot of DSD and high-resolution PCM digital files, along with spinning the occasional LP. A direct connection of any of my input sources to the HD4’s stereo mini-jack or RCA jacks always offered sound that was more musically transparent and viscerally satisfying. It’s perfect if your source equipment is entirely analog (like a turntable), and you can easily “roll your own” flavor of digital-to-analog converter with one that’s slightly more capable than the HD4’s internal DAC. Speaking of which, the internal DAC is a high quality Texas Instruments PCM5102 that maxes out at 24-bit/48 kHz. It’s perfect for connection to your phone or tablet via the back panel USB jack, and will provide a serious uptick in sound quality when streaming from portable devices.

The back panel also features a pair of variable level, line-out RCA jacks, whose output is managed by the front panel volume control. They’re perfect for connecting a powered subwoofer to the HD4’s. In a smaller room – a dorm, or an office, for example – the HD4’s are more than capable of providing satisfying bass performance. But in a larger room, with a sub properly set up and dialed in, I felt that the overall flow of the music was greatly enhanced by the sub’s added bass octaves. The front panel of the HD4 is fairly spartan, featuring only the volume control and a mini-headphone jack, and no remote is included. AudioEngine provides a surprising selection of cords of just about every make to help with virtually any connection possibility you could encounter.

All the AudioEngine powered loudspeakers work great in a desktop environment, and as I mentioned in my HD6 review, setup and placement isn’t particularly critical. But you’ll get the very best overall sound and improved imaging if the speaker height can be placed with the tweeters close to ear level. And while they sound great on a bookshelf, I found that placing them on stands a few feet out into the room enhanced their sound quality immeasurably. My listening room has approximately 3,800 cubic feet, and the HD4 pair was able to portray music as loudly as I cared to listen, and were especially effective with a sub attached. In that environment, I was mightily impressed by the HD4s, and felt that their imaging and power were definitely on par with the larger HD6.

The HD4’s performance is superb with stands or on a bookshelf.

 

But most of my listening was done on the main floor of my home (part of the whole atmosphere of inclusiveness I’m working towards embracing), and it’s a cavernous, open environment that incorporates the kitchen, dining room, and living room. With a 9-foot ceiling that rises to over 12 feet along the center ridge of the room; that’s over 9,000 cubic feet of space! Not unsurprisingly, the HD4 loudspeakers weren’t able to reach the kind of effortless peaks they easily pumped out in my listening room. But with a sub, they were able to portray music that was both musically satisfying and generally quite powerful. In that environment, I also found it was challenging (mostly from a visually acceptable standpoint) to get the tweeter levels elevated enough such that they effectively communicated the high frequencies clearly throughout the room. The treble response seemed a tad rolled off, to say the least, but I was able to overcome this to a certain degree by using 1/2 inch thick rubber feet underneath the bottom front edge of each speaker cabinet to angle the dispersion pattern upward. AudioEngine sells angled speaker stands designed to assist with that exact problem; they’re obviously a much more elegant solution than the one I engineered on the fly! The taller and much more powerful HD6s would probably have done a more effective job in that environment, but if I end up downsizing as appears likely, using powered loudspeakers in an oversized room will quickly become a non-issue. Of course, this environment is definitely a torture test for a pair of modestly-powered loudspeakers that will most likely be used in a desktop setup by the average user. Obviously, the room boundaries of such a large space do a poor job of reinforcing any of the bass and mid frequencies that are so important to good overall sound.

Conclusion

I don’t know what the future holds for me, but I do know that with the HD4, superb, moderately-priced gear exists that’s capable of shockingly satisfying levels of performance. It’s easy to surmise that most people considering the purchase of a pair of powered loudspeakers probably aren’t concerned with perfect in-room acoustics or pinpoint imaging. As a certified audio nutcase, I am, and I therefore am also greatly concerned with a powered loudspeaker’s internal amplifier quality and ability to portray music with power and finesse. The AudioEngine HD4s – along with every AudioEngine powered loudspeaker I’ve ever had the pleasure to experience – delivers all of the above: they pretty much punch effortlessly above their class!

One of the things that I love about AudioEngine’s designs is that the internal amplifiers are engineered to mate perfectly with the drivers and enclosures, and they never distort the sound at any volume level. In a more modestly-proportioned room where they’d logically be employed, I sincerely doubt they’d ever run out of gas. And the ability to easily add lower bass octaves with a sub (AudioEngine makes some really nice and affordable ones) enhances their appeal exponentially. And when I used the footers to elevate the speaker cabinets to improve the treble dispersion, I was shocked at how much better they sounded across the entire musical spectrum, even in the very large room. And I know I’ve talked a lot about adding a sub, but I don’t want to create the impression that the HD4’s are bass-shy, they’re not at all. I just happen to prefer them with a sub, and they have the connectivity to make it very easy for you!

AudioEngine really pushes the Bluetooth aspect of their powered loudspeakers, and I can appreciate that; the whole world is moving in the wireless direction. When I built the new house, I had it hard-wired for internet throughout, and when I talked about that in advance with the builder, he looked at me like I was from another planet. “Why in the world would you want to do that?” he asked – I get it, I’m just very old-school, and love a good hard-wired connection. In the current world we live in, half the people buying a pair of these speakers will never hear them at their very best, which is connected to a wired external source. The difference isn’t subtle, and at their very best, the HD4’s are incredibly great sounding little loudspeakers whose diminutive size might fool you into believing they aren’t capable of producing really big sound. They totally are! At their price point you’d be hard pressed to find a better performer that’s anywhere nearly as well constructed – the AudioEngine HD4 comes very highly recommended.

AudioEngine HD4: $449.00 MSRP, www.audioengineusa.com

All images courtesy of AudioEngine and the author.

For two decades, Bonnie Raitt was no big star but just a talented, hard-working singer and guitarist, making solo albums in a mix of blues, country, folk, and rock and helping out some high-profile colleagues in studio sessions. Her biggest successes happened in the early 1990s, well into her career: Luck of the Draw and Longing in Their Hearts were huge smashes. They were also her 11th and 12th albums. Raitt’s career is an unusual illustration of dues-paying that truly paid off.

She was born in 1949, daughter of Broadway actor and golden-throated bari-tenor John Raitt and the pianist Marge Goddard. As a way of rebelling against her mom as a teen, she taught herself guitar and hung out with beatniks and folkies. That scene wasn’t just about music for Raitt: she wanted to change the world. She entered Harvard in 1967, hoping to learn enough about democracy to help fledgling African nations. Instead, she played the Philadelphia Folk Festival and was signed by Warner Brothers.

Bonnie Raitt was her debut in 1971, a modest seller that critics generally appreciated, particularly for Raitt’s guitar chops. About a third of the tracks were recorded in a live room, without overdubs, an approach Raitt took on as a challenge to up her own game and not rely on post-production.

Besides her talents as a performer, Raitt’s debut also established her as an enthusiastic student of American roots music. Among the many interesting song choices on this disc are two numbers by Sippie Wallace (1898 – 1986), a blues singer/songwriter and early feminist. “Women Be Wise” features a laid-back, flexible vocal by Raitt with some fine honky-tonk piano by John Beach and the muted trumpet of Voyle Harris.

Warner Brothers released Give It Up in 1972. Despite more complex arrangements and another imaginative track list, this record sold only a bit better than the first. It did, however, give critics another chance to praise Raitt’s singing, which kept the album selling steadily. When Takin’ My Time came out in 1973, she built on that groundwork, even if it still wasn’t a hit.

There are many genres at play on Takin’ My Time, from the ragtime “Let Me In” to the sentimental ballad “I Gave My Love a Candle.” Maybe most against type is Raitt’s foray into calypso on “Wah She Go Do” by the great Trinidadian singer/songwriter Calypso Rose. The performance is surprisingly convincing, heartfelt, and humorous without being a stereotype.

For Streetlights (1974), Warner Bros cut Raitt’s studio budget because they thought she overspent on Takin’ my Time. She tried a new producer, Jerry Ragavoy, an experienced songwriter himself (Big Brother and the Holding Company’s “Piece of My Heart,” for example). The result was a more mainstream, less raw, less bluesy sound. But that didn’t stop Raitt from inviting blues masters Sippie Wallace and Roosevelt Sykes to join her on the tour.

Raitt’s moving version of John Prine’s “Angel of Montgomery” is an album highlight. Another, which got less attention, is “What Is Success” by Allen Toussaint. In both her guitar playing and her vocal delivery, Raitt taps into some rich soul flavors. Much credit goes to the horn and string arrangements by David Matthews.

The Doors’ producer, Paul Rothchild, took over production for Home Plate (1975), which continued Raitt’s trend toward a pop sound. But it wasn’t until Sweet Forgiveness in 1977 that she had her first solid commercial hit. The album itself reached the Number 25 spot, far higher than past efforts, and her cover of Del Shannon’s “Runaway” did pretty well as a single.

By this point, Raitt had worked a lot with Jackson Browne, including a tour with him in support of Streetlights. It’s natural that she chose to record his song “My Opening Farewell,” which suits the gentle, emotional country-rock aspect of her musical range.

The Glow followed in 1979, with a large cast of top-notch session musicians like guitarist Danny Kortchmar and drummer Rick Marotta. Critics described it as “slick,” a complaint that sent her on a different path for Green Light (1982). She had been listening to what she termed “rockabilly new wave,” and bands like the Blasters and Rockpile. Her goal on Green Light was to let that style push her sound to heavier, harder rock, yet also return to a more blues-based foundation. She also hoped to create an album that was more fun both to record and to listen to.

She succeeded in spades. The choice of material was influenced by her expansive curiosity as a listener, including the title track by New Rhythm and Blues Quartet (NRBQ) and Eddie Grant’s reggae-tinged “Baby Come Back.” Another unexpected choice was “Let’s Keep It Between Us” by Bob Dylan, which gets the Southern-rock treatment, glued together by Smitty Smith’s organ chords a la 1960s Dylan. Not incidentally, the album’s producer was a Dylan veteran, Rob Fraboni.

In the late 1980s, she left Warner Brothers and signed with Capitol, which proved to be the right move commercially. Nick of Time (1989) was nominated for four Grammys. Raitt’s sales grew until she reached her pinnacle with Luck of the Draw (1991) and Longing in Their Hearts (1994). The big singles during this era included “Something to Talk About” “Not the Only One,” “Thing Called Love,” “I Can’t Make You Love Me,” and “Love Sneakin’ Up on You.”

On Fundamental (1998), Raitt leaned to her country side. For inspiration, she turned to an unusual source: Paul Brady is an Irish singer-songwriter as steeped in Americana as he is in his own culture’s traditions. “Blue for No Reason” is one of two Brady songs on the album and features some nice guitar work by session veteran and Los Lobos staple Dave Hidalgo.

Raitt’s last few albums have been marketed by Redwing Records. Most recently, Dig In Deep (2016) featured tight arrangements with a focus on percussion and bass. There are always great musicians eager to play on a Bonnie Raitt recording session. A typically esoteric blend of song sources makes this another interesting track list, including a cover of INXS’s “Need You Tonight” and a funky run at T Bone Burnett’s “Shakin’ Shakin’ Shakes.”

Besides the mixed lineup of other people’s songs, Dig In Deep is notable for including original music by Raitt for the first time in over a decade. “If You Need Somebody” was co-written with her guitarist, George Marinelli.

The passing years may have brought a rough edge to Raitt’s voice, but that’s no problem; she knows how to take advantage of her newfound sonic grit to dig deeper into the blues.

Header image of Bonnie Raitt courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Masahiro Sumori.

Beck in concert at the Brooklyn Bowl, Las Vegas, during the CNET CES 2016 party.