Integrated Amp Reviews

In 1989, I bought my second pair of Rogers LS3/5a's from a guy on Staten Island who had them hooked up to a Musical Fidelity A1 integrated amplifier. After playing the speakers for me, he began removing his zip-cord speaker cables and paused to show me how, at the amplifier end, his red-plastic Pomona Electronics banana plugs had partially melted from the A1's heat. We both laughed.

After it first appeared in 1985, the A1 quickly became famous for its hot top plate. The top plate got as hot as it did because it was used as a heatsink for the output transistors, which were biased highly into class-A. The A1's hot top made tabloid headlines, but for me it was its bold, sinewy, un-transistory sound and timeless, sharply drawn styling that distinguished it from cooler running Brit-fi competitors such as Audiolab's 8000A, Creek's 4040, A&R Cambridge's A60, and NAD's 3020.

Now it's back, priced at $1779, looking and feeling cooler than before.

"Hybrid" technology—specifically, mixing tubed and solid state in the same amplification device—stirs a deep desire for many enthusiasts. It has the potential to embody a perfect blend: the tonal liquidity, presence, and spaciousness of tubes coupled with the power and dependability of solid state. It's potentially an end-game technology.

Still, I have long remained skeptical. I am, I confess, a certain kind of audiophile, a blend of purist and traditionalist. I favor older technologies and simpler circuits. Amplifiers—including integrated amplifiers—should be tubed, input to output. Rectification? Tubes of course. I've even entertained OTL designs—the idea of them at least, though my experiences have been mixed.

The hi-fi receiver has been many different things. Early examples, like the Harman Kardon "Stereo Festival" TA-230 from 1958 (said by modern-day Harman/Samsung to be the first stereo receiver), featured separate FM and AM monophonic tuners that could assign a speaker to each if you wanted to listen to what was then a fad: stereo broadcasts over two stations (left channel over FM, right over AM, for instance). Standardized FM stereo broadcasting began in 1961, and by then, receivers had evolved into large, complex, nearly complete stereo systems; an example of that was the Fisher 800.

It might be nice if the receiver can connect to a modern TV, which will have either TosLink or HDMI-ARC output, or both. For those of us who still own a bunch of CDs, we might as well include a robust DAC—and maybe even a built-in CD transport. Throw in FM analog and digital tuners, and voilà, you have the R 2500 R, the "21st Century Receiver" from T+A Elektroakustik of Herford, Germany, southwest of Hanover.

Life is not for Goldilocks. "Just right" is elusive. Every day, we face countless situations where our choices are either too many to navigate or too few to find satisfaction. Behavioral scientists call those dissatisfying alternatives "choice overload" and "choice deprivation," respectively.

I think choice overload may scare some audiophiles away from the glorious world of streaming, where the bulk and finite scope of a physical music-media collection can be traded for (or augmented by) many more listening choices. If you're willing to explore and choose, you can hear as deep and wide as most musical rabbit holes are likely to go, and then return to your favorite songs with a couple of finger-pecks on your phone.

For some people, all that choice is intimidating, paralyzing, overwhelming, highly stressful. That's no way to enjoy music! I sympathize. I'm not ready to leave physical media behind. But I am very happy in the streaming present. In fact, I urge the hesitant: Cast aside your fears and trepidations, sign up for a free month of Qobuz, Spotify, Tidal, Apple Music, you decide—then take it slow. At first, avoid browsing—just search for the music you want to hear. Try something new each day. Over time, you'll adjust to the overwhelming abundance. By the end of the month, especially with a full-resolution service like Qobuz, Tidal, or Apple Music+HD, you may not want to give it up. The future-present beckons loudly.

I know from experience that the manner in which a sound system occupies its environment affects every listening session, its feel and its quality. Which is what first attracted my attention to Fern & Roby products: This is serious, quality audio gear that looks elegant and unpretentious. The component I'm about to describe, Fern & Roby's new, $8500 Amp No. 2 integrated amplifier, is bureau friendly. It looks more stylish than tech-savvy, and it is not big or heavy, but its sound quality would put the sound of many amp farms to shame. A system consisting of an Amp No. 2, a pair of Raven speakers, and a Montrose turntable exemplifies owner-founder Christopher Hildebrand's materials-based, simple-is-better, form-follows-function design ethic.

It may be strange to read what I'm about to say in the pages of Stereophile, but it's the cold hard truth so here goes: Audio reviews are inadequate. They don't tell the whole story. They come up short and can even misdirect.

It's not their fault, or at least sometimes it isn't. Even the good ones can't tell you how something will sound to you—let alone make you feel, the ultimate point—in your own room. As helpful as they may be, they can't address the elephant in the listening room: synergy.

In reviewing the Octave Audio V 70 Class A integrated amplifier ($12,000 and up; $15,900 as reviewed), I was reminded of the importance of synergy in our hobby.

I've been to a few bowling parties and passed a bottle around a few fire pits, but I've never watched an audiophile unboxing video. Lately though, I have been paying closer attention to my first impressions of each new audio product as it enters my realm.

I'm finding it interesting to notice how a device previously unseen and unheard declares itself one small step at a time as I open its box, feel its heft, observe its form, study its manual, and, finally, wire it into my system. Those start-up experiences, plus my gut feelings during my first moments of music listening, establish a tone of innocent discovery I wish would last the whole month. It never does.

I mention this because my first impressions for my first-ever review of an ARCAM product, the Radia A25 integrated amplifier, were in that "innocent and receptive" mode from the instant I saw the box sitting outside my door.