Issue 14

This issue we’re going to take a slight detour from our usual bios and company histories. Don’t worry: the Wayback Machine will still get a workout.

Along with being a total nerd when it comes to vintage gear, I confess to being obsessed with statistical analysis. I don’t pretend to have any particular proficiency with statistics, but I do like to parse data to the best of my ability. It’s inevitable, then, that I would spend time ruminating on the cost of vintage gear when new, and what the equivalent cost would be today, compensated for inflation. The results are often interesting— and occasionally, just plain baffling.

In 1980 I toured the Klipsch factory in Hope, Arkansas (this isn’t a complete non sequitur–I promise). Aside from meeting Paul, the most memorable aspect was watching Klipschorns being constructed. As you might expect, it doesn’t happen quickly; I’ve forgotten how many pounds of screws go into each plywood cabinet (Paul maintained that MDF sounded bad, and wouldn’t hold screws), but it’s a whole lot of screws. A power screwdriver helps, but it’s still a job that is largely manual, and takes time.

Back in 1964[1], the published prices for a single Klipschorn ranged from $514 (unfinished) to $852 (hand-rubbed finish). So: $1028-$1704, per pair. Keep in mind this was at a time when the average income was around $6,000/year, and the average new home was $13,500. Clearly, Klipschorns weren’t cheap. How would that translate to 2016 dollars? The CPI Inflation Calculator tells us that the range of $1028-$1704 would be equivalent to $7980-$13,227 in today’s money. Not cheap, but compared to today’s megabuck monolith speakers, not extortionate.

Interestingly enough, those labor-intensive K-horns are still made, and sell for $12,000/pair for a standard model, and $16,000/pair for the limited-edition 70th Anniversary model. Really, over the past 52 years, the price of Klipschorns has stayed fairly level. The fact that K-horns are still made and are still largely the same, tends to keep prices down for old ones; I’ve never seen used K-horns for more than $3000 or so.

Given that worker wages have increased 10 times or more since 1964, wouldn’t it make sense for K-horn prices to have gone way up? And yet, they haven’t. Somewhere, I bet Paul is happy.

From the massive to the minute, the other extreme of the reproduction chain is the phono cartridge. Like the K-horn, the Ortofon SPU moving-coil cartridge is still in production; also like the Klipschorn, there have been some changes and improvements through the years. There is a bewildering array of SPU variants, but Ortofon just introduced two models with integrated headshells that are very similar to the SPUs of 1964. The 1964 SPU/GT was $49.95 with spherical stylus, $75 with the newfangled elliptical stylus. Translated to 2016 dollars: $387.75 and $582.21, respectively. The new SPU models cost $599 for the spherical, $659 for the elliptical. Elliptical styli are commonplace these days, so the decrease in price differential between the two types makes sense; while the prices are a little higher than the 1964 versions, it’s not a huge increase. Given that most moving coils start at several times those prices, they might even be considered bargains.

Based upon those two examples, you might think that hi-fi prices have stayed fairly level over the decades. Maybe—maybe not. Things get weird with products that are no longer made, and which have become desirable as collectibles. As is often said of land, “they ain’t makin’ any more of that.”

Take for example, the JBL Paragon. A masterpiece of mid-century modern design by Arnold Wolf, at 9 feet in length and 850 pounds, few products can rival the Paragon for sheer presence. Producing both channels from one massive enclosure, there was and is nothing else like it. About 1000 Paragons were made between 1957 and 1983, making it JBL’s longest-running product.

Back in 1964, the price of the Paragon was $2250, considerably more than a pair of Klipschorns or any other speaker on the US market; the drivers alone retailed for around $1200, about the price of a pair of KLH 9 electrostats. In 2016 dollars, that $2250 translates into about $17,500. That’s certainly not cheap, but it’s difficult to imagine that it could be produced today for even four or five times that amount. Currently on Ebay there are two Paragons; one is Buy It Now priced at $40,000; the other, at $50,000. Replica Paragons made in Japan routinely sell for six figures.

The relative scarcity of the Paragon has driven prices up drastically in recent years (I bought one in the early ‘80’s for $600…it is to weep). Given the complexity of the design and its components, it’s hard to imagine that JBL ever made money on the Paragon. It was likely a halo product, and for many years was seen as the absolute ultimate loudspeaker system.

It took another California company, Infinity, to create speaker systems that rivaled the audacity and sheer physical presence of the Paragon. Starting with the Servo-Statik in 1968 and through the IRS (Infinity Reference Standard) series, Infinity created products of unrivaled performance, clean California modern styling, and unheard of prices (the Servo-Statik was $2000 in 1968, and needed two additional amps besides the provided bass servo amp).

$2000 in 1968 translates to just under $14,000 today, and it’s hard to imagine being able to build a system as complex as the Servo-Statik for that little, today. 1980’s IRS appeared at $20,000; in 2016 bucks, that’s $58,409. While clearly a lot of money, similar systems today sell for three to four times that.

My conclusion from all this? I’d say that audio has a number of high-value products that have held up over time…but it also has its own version of the 1%. Just as it’s hard to imagine that a $300,000 Maybach costs three times as much as an S-class Mercedes to build, it’s hard to imagine that the quarter-million dollar speakers seen today cost that much more to build than lesser models.

The late Brian Cheney coined the phrase, “The Price is the Product”, and I tend to think that beyond a certain level, prices are determined more by their potential status than by build cost.

That may be the cynic in me talking. I promise that next time I’ll return to a vintage view untainted by 2016.

[1] 1964 is used as a basis of comparison simply because I happen to have a Stereo/Hi-Fi Directory from that year.

Hey, you use whatcha got, right?

I often wonder if more people aren’t willing to get involved with great sounding audio systems because they are intimidated by all the stuff. One look at the back of even a moderate stereo setup is enough to send many running for the hills. Wires, cables, connectors, oh my!

Receivers were no doubt popular because they contained it all in a single box. A set of speaker cables, the remote control, and you’re good to go. But then, you might want to connect the TV, perhaps a turntable, Sonos connect… you see where this can lead.

When I was in my twenties things were much simpler. Everyone I knew had a stereo setup, and those setups were simple. Mine’s a good example. Turntable, Kenwood integrated, Phased Array loudspeakers, two concrete building blocks—one underneath each side of a long wooden plank that served as the shelf. A bag of pot if I was lucky, a collection of albums.

Life was simple.

Then I heard my first high-end system and everything turned upside down. Music sounded live, it had dynamics I didn’t know were possible. Drummer Chuck Ruff’s licks on Edgar Winter’s Frankenstein pushed me back in the seat like the Maxell Tape ad and I was gobsmacked, smitten for life.

But that first high-end system had far more going on than my simple Kenwood integrated and two lengths of lamp cord connecting my speakers.

The exotic separates system had multiple boxes, cables, exotic looking accouterments. Frankly, it was as bewildering as it was exciting.

A new column for Copper

Editor Bill Leebens asked me to speak to our Copper readers who might be more music oriented than technical. Readers who want good sound but haven’t yet dipped their toe in the high-end waters. A column on the basics, starting from scratch, easy to understand.

Back To Basics will not appeal to everyone. For the well informed, it might be territory eliciting a yawn. For others it may be an easy refresher in how things work and why.

Why separates?

You don’t need separates to make great sound. A well setup integrated or receiver, even an all in one loudspeaker like B&W’s great MM-1 computer monitor produce terrific sound in small doses and in the right circumstances. And there are others as well.

It’s an all-in-one music system from the 1950s. What’s inside? This radio has four basic elements that make it work.

•  A radio tuner
•  A power amplifier
•  A loudspeaker
•  A clock

Together this box tells you the time, wakes you up with music if you set the alarm, entertains you while you’re doing whatever it is people do.

When General Electric put this box together their mandate to their design team wasn’t likely, “take the best five elements in the world and put them together in one box”. No, chances are good they said, “we want to sell a clock radio for $19.95. Cobble together what it takes to make a profit and meet these minimum performance standards.”

In the 1950s, when this pink kitchen radio was sold, there were already excellent standalone radio tuners, power amplifiers, loudspeakers, and clocks too. Were you to have collected each of these separate items individually, connected them together, you would have made a significantly better sounding product.

Your mother would never have placed all those bits on her kitchen counter. More likely, she would have thrown you and your collection of kit to the garage.

Separates are for the obsessed

I suppose that sounds harsh. But if you’re obsessed with food, you buy the best you can. Obsessed with furniture, watches, music, cats, books, sports… the nature of the word suggests not a negative term, but rather explains a desire for improving that which interests you.

Good sound and good music interests me. I am obsessed, and my father was as well. I suppose the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

I’ll never forget the look of horror on my mother’s face when my dad cut a hole in the hall coat closet and mounted a subwoofer, explaining the volume within the small enclosure and the damping provided by the coats and sweaters was perfect for reproducing bass.

It’s ok to be obsessed with something. Keeps us mentally alive.

Separates can make better sound than all-in-one systems when care is taken to collect the right combination of separate equipment. And separates don’t have to be expensive to be good.

Germany’s ELAC speakers, designed by Andrew Jones, are a great example. They are only hundreds of dollars for the pair, yet make good sound when paired with a decent integrated.

How to decide which way to go

Should you think of separates?

The easiest answer is, maybe.

My mother would have chosen the pink General Electric radio without batting an eye. My father, not so much. Their goals were different. Mom wanted convenience and a small footprint, dad wanted sonic excellence within his economic means.

Not everyone wants excellence. I cringe when I witness someone listening to music on the built in speakers on their laptop. The tiny squawks passing as music are like nails on a blackboard to me, but bliss to others.

What are you trying to achieve and how close are you getting to that goal? That’s the real question you need to ask. happy with what you have? Or pining for something better? As I mentioned, there are excellent all-in-one solutions worth trying.

But if you find yourself fatigued after an hour’s listen to music, or perhaps just uninspired, maybe it’s time to step up and take a look at the world of separates.

A trip or call to your local dealer can often be a real ear opener.

As may be obvious after 13 of these columns, I like to ask questions. Part of the reason is that I am honestly curious to understand how other folks think; the other part is, well, shameless pandering for feedback.

…And now that you can post your feedback directly below this piece, expect even more shameless pandering in the future!

A question which both amuses and baffles me is: who decides when something is over the top?  This is clearly a personal judgment, yet there seems to be a curious consistency in viewpoints. Even curiouser: there is greater tolerance in some areas than others.

For example: cars. Almost everyone appreciates classic Pininfarina-designed Ferraris; almost no one comments about them as being symbolic of profligate wealth, even though many models routinely reach 7 to 8 figures at auction.  Is it because they’re tastefully elegant? Or just because they’re rare?

To a certain extent, flamboyance is applauded—ooh, that fuchsia Lamborghini!—but there are limits. When Justin Bieber wrapped his Audi R8 in faux leopardskin, the internet nearly melted down with posts of disapproval. So: six- and seven-figure prices, good; overbearing boy-racer aesthetic straight from the factory, good; tacky shrink-wraps of pricey car, bad. Or maybe just: Bieber, bad.

Watches? Yes, some oldsters like me will find many current pieces too big and too blingy. But does the public in general condemn such pieces, or the folks who wear them? Aside from the expected snarky comments from Jeremy Clarkson (“BMW drivers with eNORmous watches…”), no.

Homes? Sure, Derek Jeter’s 30,000 square foot house on Tampa Bay is so huge that neighbors call it “St. Jetersburg”, but aside from the occasional rueful smile or eye-roll, does anyone condemn him for the extravagance of his home? Reactions run more to amusement and envy than anger.

Why, then, are there such different standards for audio equipment?

Yes, many have bemoaned this fact before. I’ve written about it myself, on both Stereophile.com and on Gizmodo, back when that website tried to give high-end audio a fair shake. While the editors at Gizmodo had an open mind regarding high-end audio, the readers most assuredly did not—or at least the readers who bothered to comment did not.

Take a look here.  Over 67,000 people have read this, and 427 left comments: about 0.6% of the readers. Now, compared to 67,000, 427 is a miniscule number…but if you read through those comments, nearly every one of which is belligerent and emphatic in stating that anyone who spends more than $300 on anything audio-related is not just misguided but DELUSIONAL and INSANE, there is the sense of a pile-on, of a commonly-held, societally-approved viewpoint. Why?

It’s not just the threshold figure of $300: other stories on the site breathlessly anticipate new Apple products and VR headsets and drones and other tchotchkes irresistible to the tech-hip, and headed for rapid obsolescence. All those things cost more than $300, often, lots more.

Through the years we’ve seen rapid acceptance of HDTVs and DVDs and Blu-Ray. As long as the improvement was evident and obvious, plenty of folks were happy to pay the cost of being early adopters. In recent years, 3D TV went nowhere, and 4K isn’t luring many away from HDTV. I suspect it’s because the improvement (if any) is not as staggering as was the leap from the NTSC standard to HDTV.

But what about audio? If most people have only experienced MP3s, played back on a phone or through an auxiliary input on a car stereo, isn’t it possible that they can’t even conceive that there is something better? Something that would be worth more than $300?

I think that such is entirely likely, and it makes sense as an explanation for the hostility towards quality audio.

Of course, some of those  totem-pole speakers and gold-plated components deserve to be mocked…right? ;->

With the rise of computer-based high-end audio playback, a very interesting question is whether it is best to perform volume control in the digital or analog domain.  I thought I might share some of my thoughts on the subject.

The very best DAC/preamplifier combos have sufficiently low noise that they can resolve perhaps the 21st bit and even the 22nd bit of an audio signal.  However, to achieve that level of performance with commensurate linearity you may have to choose between that and buying a fast car!  The merely “very good” are capable of resolving the 19th to 20th bit as a rough guideline.  If you implement volume control in the digital domain, every 6dB of attenuation results in the loss of one bit of resolution.  So if you play back music with 24–bit bit depth, then all digital volume control results in irrecoverable loss of data via bit-depth reduction.  However, if you play 16–bit music, and pass it to your DAC in 24–bit format (something which most high-end DACs require anyway), then, depending on the quality of your DAC/preamp combo, you can in principle dial in up to 18–36dB of attenuation without effectively truncating the music data.  All this assuming that your digital volume control is done in a first-class manner, using a 64–bit audio engine or something comparable.

So that’s the theory.

On the other hand, volume control performed in the analog domain requires passing the signal through some sort of variable attenuator – such as a potentiometer, an active electronic equivalent, or a switched resistor ladder.  These components do actually degrade the sound, and to quite an alarming degree!  If you are in the habit of “tweaking” your audio equipment, you will know that a hardy market exists for after–market volume control potentiometers costing up to thousands of dollars each (!!!) in an effort to eliminate these sonic defects.  So the answer to the question boils down to whether or not the sonic degradation introduced by Bit Depth reduction is less intrusive than that introduced by a preamplifier’s volume control.

As it happens, I have done some extensive listening tests on this subject.  Regardless of whether the music is 16–bit or 24–bit, I have found that performing volume control in the digital domain is qualitatively superior to performing it in the analog domain.  And the difference is not subtle – it is really quite massive.  No contest, actually.  I will temper that statement by saying that it for sure depends on the preamplifier you are using and the volume control circuitry it implements.  For example, I had a chance to discuss this with Dan d’Agostino, and while he agreed with me, he assured me that his new $30,000 preamplifier has a volume control that introduces no sonic degradation whatsoever!

There are significant practical considerations to performing volume control in the digital domain. Basically, your DAC is essentially acting as though it were connected to a preamplifier permanently set to maximum volume.  Depending on your computer setup and the rest of your audio equipment, the consequences of accidentally playing music (or, heaven forbid, “You Got Mail!”) at maximum volume may represent a risk that you are just not willing to take.  Most computer playback systems have a user interface that has not been designed with this concern in mind.  You might have to be very particular indeed about the procedures you go through each time you start to play music.  To be fair though, after over three years of this I am no longer nearly so concerned by that, but I still think it only fair to mention it.

When I first ran these experiments I had a Light Harmonic Da Vinci DAC which I could either play through my Classé CP–800 preamplifier, or connect directly into the inputs of my 300W/ch Classé CA–2300 power amplifier, feeding B&W 802 Diamond loudspeakers.  Most of my serious listening was done with about 20–30dB of attenuation dialed in either (i) directly on the Da Vinci; (ii) digitally using my player software, BitPerfect; or (iii) using the analog attenuator of the Classé CP–800.  Both digital options sounded identical, and sounded massively superior to their analog counterpart.

Since I am in the high-end audio software business it was relatively easy for me to put together a playback test setup that progressively reduces the bit depth of a recording while maintaining the same overall volume.  By doing so, it is possible to listen in isolation to the sonic changes induced through bit depth reduction alone.  I could then compare those to the changes introduced by going from analog to digital volume control.  Bit depth reduction, when properly dithered, simply adds noise to the sound, but when introduced as a consequence of digital volume reduction, the added noise itself is also reduced in volume and therefore can’t be detected as an additional sound.  By contrast, connecting the analog attenuation stage in line with the signal notably muffled the dynamics and smeared the imaging.

These days I am using a PS Audio DirectStream DAC which I connect directly to a pair of PS Audio BHK 300 Signature monoblock amplifiers.  It works perfectly, and there have been no usability concerns that have ever arisen.  The DirectStream’s design is such that its volume setting can be relied on to be found at whatever exact level it was at previously, and I can power it up and down without causing alarmingly loud bangs from my speakers (which was a problem with the Da Vinci).  On the other hand, the DirectStream does not have the facility to allow its volume control to be accessed directly from the computer, which is very frustrating.

I suppose I ought to point out that the DirectStream’s digital volume control is entirely different in the way it works.  It is implemented in an SDM, which to my knowledge is quite unique (or at least unusual) and really requires a separate discussion of its own, which I don’t have space for.  But for all practical purpose, its effect is entirely analogous to that of a conventional dithered digital volume control.

In closing, though, Paul McGowan insists that with his new BHK Signature preamplifier between the DirectStream and the BHK 300’s the sound actually improves.  Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he!  Unfortunately I don’t have the budget to take that particular Pepsi challenge. (Richard: I’m supposed to be the resident cynic here—Ed.)

I hate it when my most cherished assumptions take a beating. I’ve never been a fan of boxes, so imagine my shock and horror this month when Gramophone featured a gushing tribute to Decca Sound: 55 Great Vocal Recitals (Jason Victor Serinus blogged about it way back in June). It’s an authentic bargain. For less than $100, you get 55 CDs of great, semi-great, or “interesting” singers 1945 to 2010. Remastering was done by Paschal Byrne and Craig Thompson, “leading lights of The Audio Archiving Company, Ltd.” who were entrusted to preserve and enhance the work of giants like John Culshaw, Gordon Parry, and Kenneth Wilkinson. Every track presumably sounds as good as it can. (Here’s a link to the complete contents.) It’s obvious this box was compiled with love and care.

Few others can make that claim. Some come off as little more than last-ditch attempts to wring more cash out of recordings that long ago paid back their production costs. The majors’ cynical recycling of the Golden Age gives us good reason to hire the living—i.e., younger artists—as often as possible. But there are other, better reasons:

The best newer recordings do sound better.

Last month I bought a new box, Martha Argerich Chopin: The Complete Recordings on Deutsche Grammophon (DG 479 6068). First thing I did was listen to her 24 Préludes, recorded in 1975, before hauling out Ingrid Fliter’s recent reading (Linn CKD 475) for comparison. First: no contest on the recording quality. Fliter’s piano is captured in big, warm sound and she’s right there with you, in the room. The sour, distant sound of Argerich’s piano in the DG recording really disappointed me. Did they even bother to remaster the old transfers?

Yet I was bowled over by Argerich’s performance. There’s a reason she will be remembered as one of the 20th century’s great artists. Argerich seizes on the expressive potential of each of these brief, highly contrasting character pieces and makes a pepper-laced meal of them, playing almost without pause in a continuous dramatic narrative. You may not agree with all her choices, but you’ll be swept away anyway. Fliter’s work is equally virtuosic but less showy. Reflecting her own sense of Chopin’s classical restraint, it may well possess more coherence and integrity. Absent the immediate memory of Argerich’s sensational, rightly historic performance, Fliter satisfies completely. So: a draw, not a win, for the box, which fills out its five discs with duplicated repertoire (CDs 3 and 4) and radio broadcasts (CD 5).

Some living, breathing artists do better in certain repertoire than beloved stars of yesteryear.

Standards and fashions change over time. I grew up on Vladimir Horowitz’s Scarlatti, but I’ve heard equally fine performances from David Greilsammer—who pairs them happily with John Cage sonatas—and Yevgeny Sudbin, whose magisterial albums reveal Scarlatti as a soulmate of Schumann and Debussy. Fifty years from now, Sudbin will be a Golden Age master worthy of his own box.

And isn’t there important repertoire that the artists of the Golden Age never got around to recording?

Yes, although less than you might think. I recently got a gorgeous new recording, Duos for Violin & Violoncello (Challenge Classics CC72542), by Liza and Dmitry Ferschtman, a daughter-and-father team who really do play as one. Their artistic communication is matchless, and they are so musical. The album, with music by Kodály, Ravel, and Schulhoff, was produced and engineered by Bert van der Wolf, who captures everything with a near-perfect balance of intimacy and electricity. Sonically it’s one of the best chamber music collections I’ve ever heard. Here’s a bit of the Kodály Duo:

So I thought I’d survey the Golden Age to see whether any of this had caught the eyes of the old guys. Guess what: it had. Specifically, you can find Heifetz and Piatigorsky doing the Kodály Duo on disc 5 of a rather expensive 21-disc box set still available. (You can pick up their Duo by itself for far less, remastered on HDTracks.) They play pretty well, those two! Of course the recording shows its age.

H&P appear never to have recorded either the Ravel Sonate or Schulhoff Duo. Rachel Barton Pine and Wendy Warner did. Indeed, their album repeats the Ferschtmans’ set list exactly, plus throwing in Martinů’s Duo. Pine and Warner hardly qualify as Golden Agers, but you may want to pick up their CD, then check out Heifetz and Piatigorsky’s Martinů. See whether they measure up, y’know.

Or you could just enjoy the Ferschtmans. Sometimes, life really is too short.

There’s good new music out there that didn’t even exist 40 years ago.

Even what’s old can become new. Consider George Gershwin. Professor Mark Clague in Ann Arbor is heading up a massive re-editing project of the Gershwin scores. He’s unearthed some fascinating history in the process. Did you know, for example, that Gershwin authorized a particular set of auto horns for An American in Paris? (See here.) But Toscanini and everyone who followed him misinterpreted the score. This bit of Gershwin was buried alive for 80 years. Only now are we getting it right.

But wait, there’s more. Let’s go meta with this. The fact is, Americans will always need a renewable Gershwin—someone to bundle our continually morphing jazz and pop energies, our relentless enthusiasms, our bluesy moments, into classier packages. Gershwin is dead; long live Meta-Gershwin! Our first Meta-G was arguably Leonard Bernstein, both his music and his protean performances. It’s time for another; I hereby nominate Mason Bates. His background as a DJ gives him an edge in the jazz-and-pop department, but he’s also a master of orchestral color. One of his newest works, Anthology of Fantastic Zoology, premiered last June in Chicago. You can hear it on Classics Online HD, you can check out samples here, or you can get the download. I love the way it echoes Golden Age film composers like Bernard Herrmann. Its drum breaks offer variants on bidda bidda badda badda bodda bodda BUNG, straight out of Wipeout and other American classics. Check out 0’59” in the following:

And here’s some of the Thrilling Climax to Fantastic Zoology. (The badda bing gets underway immediately but builds to its own wipeout at 0’55”.)

Bates’ box set should be available in about thirty years. Or you could just download Fantastic Zoology in the next ten minutes. Ars longa, vita brevis.

Continued from Part I

The History of Opera

Although the score to what is reputed to be the first opera, Jacopo Peri’s Dafne (1598), has been lost, the oldest frequently performed opera, Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo (1607), is very much with us. It and Monteverdi’s two late surviving operas, Il ritorno d’Ulisse in patria (1640) and L’incoronazione di Poppea (1642), continue to command attention because they are so beautifully composed and emotionally expressive.

During the century and a half in which baroque opera flourished, a plethora of composers, including Handel, Cavalli, and Porpora, wrote countless operas of varying quality. Only in the past 50 years or so have we in so-called modern time been able to fully appreciate what people raved about in the baroque era.

Thanks to the early music movement, a host of musicians now perform on period instruments, both originals and copies. Baroque violinists, for example, use gut strings, and hold their bows differently than is expected when people perform music from later periods. The sound is very, very different, both in weight and timbre.

Period practice scholarship has revealed that, in earlier centuries, people performed at lower pitch, in smaller spaces, and with less vibrato than is common to 19^th century Italian opera. Composers of the baroque, classical (e.g. Haydn and Mozart) and bel canto (Bellini and Donizetti) eras expected singers and musicians to embellish the vocal line, sometimes liberally, when the melody was repeated.

In addition, the bass line and its harmonic counterpart in much early music was never fully written out, so confident were the composers that performers would improvise. If you want to hear the antecedent of 20^th and 21^st century jazz improvisation, check out historically informed early music performance, and compare what you hear to what’s written in the score. Comparing live performances by the same artists can reveal countless differences from performance to performance, sometimes just days apart.

Another major contributor to today’s early music renaissance is the ascendancy of the countertenor. Baroque composers often wrote their leading roles either for castrati – men who were intentionally or accidentally castrated before puberty, and who retained the high voices of boy sopranos and altos in manhood – or for countertenors – men who sing in falsetto. While trained castrati no longer exist, thank God, we now have a host of countertenors who can provide a good approximation of how their roles actually sounded in baroque times. Some of these countertenors have voices so large that they can be heard throughout the Metropolitan Opera, which can accommodate up to 3835 seated patrons plus 195 standees.

While only some baroque opera librettos are credible – Handel’s Julius Caesar (Giulio Cesare in Egitto, 1724)

is one – the music and character painting are frequently remarkable. Handel did more than write good tunes to stories of nymphs, sorcerers, and flying machines; he also wrote convincing characterizations. For proof, watch the video of the remarkable, historically-informed production of Julius Caesar I was privileged to see in Salzburg a few summers ago. If you want to hear an exquisite countertenor in superb voice, listen to the marvelous Philippe Jaroussky (Sesto) sing “Cara speme, questo core,” which you can click on at 00:59:15. Then revel in virtually anything mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli (Cleopatra) sings, and marvel at the beauty of her voice and nigh perfect technique. Bartoli’s aria “Tu la mia stella sei,” which follows Jaroussky’s, should be enough to convince you of her greatness.

Opera’s Classical Period

While it’s certainly not my intention to write the world’s grandest introduction to opera in 3500 words or less, no discussion would be complete without touching briefly on the three major periods of opera that, together with contemporary opera, provide the bulk of repertoire heard in the world’s great opera houses. After baroque opera came the classical period, which was dominated by Austria’s Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791). Certainly four of Mozart’s five final operas – Le nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro – 1786), Don Giovanni (1787), Così fan tutte (Women are like that -1790), and Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute – 1791) – exhibit a nigh-perfect welding of words and music.

You can read my discussion of a recent complete recording of the opera some call the most perfect opera ever composed, Mozart’s Le nozze di Figaro, here. Opinions differ of course. I consider the music of Die Zauberflöte sublime, while my husband, who has sung opera, considers it boring.

I hear every note of soprano Tiana Lemnitz’ admittedly historically inaccurate performance of Pamina’s despairing aria, “Ach, ich fühl’s”, over and over in my head. Ditto her performance of “Dove sono”, one of the Countess’ two great arias from Le nozze di Figaro. Others consider Lemnitz’s Nazi affiliation, or that of another Mozartian great, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf  – here singing the Countess’ other great aria, “Porgi amor” – at least as significant as their artistic accomplishments. Thus doth the world turn.

Bel Canto, Romance, and Verismo

After the era of Mozart, Beethoven and others came the bel canto romantic period dominated by the florid writing of Donizetti,

(1797-1848) Bellini (1801-1835),

and Rossini (1798-1868).

All three composers demanded supreme breath control and agility, as well as the ability to float a long line with consummate ease.

Bel canto depends upon tiny changes in tempo and dynamics, and concomitant changes in tone color, for its success, while the grand romantic operas of Verdi (1813-1901),

Wagner (1813-1883),

Bizet (1838-1875), Massenet (1842-1912) and others call for grand gestures and maximum volume. Of course, the greatest singers of romantic opera did not exactly turn their backs on bel canto skills, as can be heard in the above link to soprano Leontyne Price’s farewell performance as Verdi’s Aida, and the extraordinary soprano Lotte Lehmann’s nuanced interpretation of Sieglinde in Wagner’s Die Walküre.

The turn of the century also saw the flowering of the Italian verismo school of romantic opera. Supposedly offering slice-of-life realism complete with heightened drama, passionate romance and a fair amount of blood, verismo composers tended to concern themselves with the lives of common people rather than noblemen. The line between romantic opera and so-called post-romantic verismo, however, is rather sketchy. For example, Puccini’s (1858-1924) Il tabarro and Tosca are often considered verismo, but his Madama Butterfly and especially Turandot usually aren’t. For a wonderful live performance of Madama Butterfly’s famous aria, “Un bel di,” see this.

Not to be missed are two of the great 12-tone operas of the early 20^th century, Alban Berg’s Wozzeck (1922) and Lulu (1928-1935). Not only do they deal with social depravity, prostitution, political corruption, and the like, but their musical vocabulary also dispenses with the prettiness and harmonic resolution of earlier periods to forge a truthfulness and beauty all its own. People do not always lie, steal, kill, and die prettily.

Musical history, of course, does not move in a straight line. At the same time Berg, Schoenberg, and others were writing 12-tone music, Richard Strauss (whose music I love) went from the experimentation of Salome

and Elektra

to the romanticism of Der Rosenkavalier

and Ariadne auf Naxos.

Many of today’s young composers are, in fact, continuing the tonal tradition of early eras while writing innovative music that speaks to our time.

Contemporary Performance

One of the biggest tensions in contemporary opera performance is between what is most important, the production or the singing and music. While in the 19^th and early 20^th centuries, singers and conductors ruled, far more attention these days is often lavished instead on the production and drama. This is reflected in 800-word opera critiques that devote 600 words to the production and costumes, with just enough space left to devote one or two adjectives to each of the major singers, and lump everyone else into a line or two. As Aidan Lang, General Director of Seattle Opera, said to me last year, it’s much easier for a critic to describe what a production looks like than to describe in detail a singer’s voice and artistry.

Thus we have the era of the opera DVD and Blu-ray, where productions with second-rate or substandard singing get issued solely because of the visuals. An entire school of direction and production, called regietheater, seems more obsessed with outrageousness than musical artistry.

At the same time, because our TV-dominated /mass media age has become increasingly concerned with visuals, complete opera recordings on CD are diminishing. Once you spend time listening to great singing, it becomes easier to separate the wheat from the chaff. Sometimes, the best thing to do is close your eyes and focus on the sound. A review I recently read of a production of Wagner’s opera, Der Fliegende Holländer (The Flying Dutchman), that is only available on DVD and Blu-ray suggests that if you ignore the visuals, the musical performance itself can hold its own against any of the great audio-only recordings of the ‘50s, ‘60s and beyond.

For those just starting out, it is my hope that this little intro has helped you find a way in to the world of opera. May your days and nights be filled with music that touches your heart and illumines your being with the deepest truths that the human experience has to offer.

Ending this series with a description of the UK hi-fi scene circa 2016 will bore you to tears, so apologies in advance: globalization has seen to a great leveling, and the differences between territories have all but disappeared. Most marked a change is the availability in the UK of just about every make of hi-fi one can consider, but that’s true everywhere else. No longer does nationalism rule the marketplace with near totality, though British brands do maintain a home advantage.

Preferences? The UK needs to be looked at in a global context. Japan still remains the most avant-garde in its tastes (huge horns, single-ended triodes, etc, still maintain their cults), while Japan, Italy and South Korea have the most fevered, fanatical collectors of vintage gear. They come to the UK to snap up old British valve amps and record decks and classic speakers. Eastern European countries have played catch-up to narrow the gap as their standards of living improve, so attending hi-fi shows around the world means a commonality challenged only by the local languages. Homogenization is complete.

As for the UK manufacturers, nearly every brand from the revolutionary 1970s has now become establishment to some degree – out of necessity. There aren’t enough hobbyists left to put up with poorly-made, unreliable flavors-of-the-month.

Linn, the ringleader of the 1970s turmoil, still makes the LP12 but is now committed to distributed sound, streaming, custom installation and other pursuits. Naim, Rega, Arcam, Cambridge, Musical Fidelity, and dozens of other survivors solidly carry on with a mixture of innate Britishness and the acceptance of necessary commercialism, all enjoying respect and credibility – a sure sign that they have outgrown their rebel status of 40 years ago. Meridian remains aloof and inventive. B&W is a massive global player. Plus ça change….

But the UK has also seen nearly all of its major brands end up in foreign hands, including the pre-WWII founding fathers: Tannoy and Quad. This hasn’t happened to the same degree in the USA or Germany, and Japanese brands resist this resolutely.

As for the local audio “culture,” much hasn’t changed at all, so the UK remains as cottage industry/hobbyist/staunchly amateurish as ever. The world’s best audio flea market takes place twice yearly in the UK for precisely this reason – not just bargain hunting. DIY still has its followers, though kit building will never return to the levels of the 1960s because the cost of entry-level hardware is so low that there’s no longer any savings by building it one’s self.

Attitudes? Again, it’s a global thing. Vinyl is strong in the UK, which absorbs – I believe – 10 per cent of the current global LP production, after the USA and Germany. The hi-fi shows that remain are filled with the same faces, only older, but here the UK has lost out to Germany for the best consumer shows. The UK has nothing on a par with Munich High End – but then neither does the USA, Japan or anywhere else. Why is no longer important, but suffice it to say, the UK hi-fi sector has nobody to blame but itself for killing off its hi-fi shows. That story is too recent to be told…

And the future? The British have been flushing their traditions down the crapper for 50 years, yet the country continues to be a major player. Meridian’s MQA, the influence of the British press (especially in the Commonwealth and former colonies), the unmatched supremacy when it comes to making small loudspeakers … as long as SME makes tonearms and London (Decca) makes cartridges, there’s still hope for the Village Green Preservation Society.