Martion Audiosysteme Aeonors.
The most compelling sound I heard at High End Munich wasn't technically at High End Munich but rather at an industrial building across the street from the MOC. That's where Heinrich Amand Basilius Martion of Berlin's Martion Audiosysteme was demonstrating his new Aeonor speakers: a pair of concentrically mounted spherical treble and midrange horns resting on a corner-loaded wooden cabinet containing an 18" woofer, with driver time alignment achieved using DSP, driven by three pairs of custom class-A solid state amps. The price of this system, amps included, is $70,000.
"Stimela (The Coal Train)" from an LP of Hugh Masekela's Hope, an audio show workhorse, sounded breathtaking through the Aeonors, with the uncanny combination of unrestrained dynamics, realistic presence, and complete excitement that characterizes peak listening experiences. The Martion horns added a sonic naturalness and musical rightness rare in any system. Kudos, Heinrich!
It's a strange thing to find oneself choked up at an audio convention, but that's what happened to me in the EAR Yoshino room. It's where I spotted the first really good amplifier I owned, the EAR 859, bought used at Stereo Exchange on Broadway when I was in my late 20s. Now updated and rechristened the 869, this single-ended tube integrated was my first exposure to the world of perfectionist audio and for a time my proudest possession. Around me, a lovely sounding Bach chorale was being played back on a reel-to-reel deck and a pair of restored (and surprisingly affordable) ESL57 electrostatic speakers from Quad Musikwiedergabe. EAR Yoshino founder Tim de Paravicini would have been pleased. Brilliant and exasperating in equal parts, he passed away in 2020. His framed photograph, shaded by a potted orchid, watched over the room. After speaking for a while with de Paravicini's widow Oliva, I was reminded of the unexpected ways that music and audio can take us back to the people we used to be.
Oliva de Paravicini with a photo of Tim.
Possibly the very nicest thing about High End Munich is reconnecting with friends and meeting new ones. One day after show hours, I introduced my Brooklyn saxophonist friend Jerome Sabbagh to Holger Stein of Mülheim, Germany's Stein Music. After we listened to Sabbagh's new record on Stein's huge Orange Crush–colored horns, Sabbagh took out his saxophone and serenaded us with a live version of one of the album's tracks. This prompted Stein to uncork some rosé champagne, making everyone feel even more agreeable.
Much of the socializing took place in MOC's busy courtyard. That's where I found myself sharing a table with an American in his 20s wearing a cascade of two-tone hair, a spotted tangerine jacket, and a Pokemon backpack. This was Grover Neville, a writer who had contributed to Stereophile's late headphone blog InnerFidelity and now covers audio for other publications. He was there with his dad, Craig, a civil engineer from Chicago. Craig told me that Grover had recently inspired him to begin writing his own audio reviews, and that both father and son had come to Munich to work on their respective show coverage. I must admit I found this more than a little touching.
When the Nevilles sat down beside me, I was imbibing some local refreshment with fellow audio writers Michael Lavorgna and John Darko. It gives me no pleasure to admit that we'd been sampling the wares at the Paulaner stand for much of the afternoon, and now Darko and I were engaged in a loud, circular conversation that involved our mothers, amateur boxing, wombats, and things I probably shouldn't share. The Nevilles, who couldn't have been kinder or more patient, were treated to much uncouth laughter and just a touch of profanity, and I'm afraid I didn't make a very nice first impression. Mea culpa, Grover and Craig. I plan to do better next year.
Ortofon Cadenza Mono CartridgeAfter the blur and noise of Munich, I've been filling my weeks with the edifying fun of exploring mono cartridges. I had a blast basking in the ultracolorful, larger-than-life presentation of the Miyajima Zero Mono that I reviewed in the August issue. Now it was time to give the Ortofon Cadenza Mono a turn. As it happened, these cartridges' contrasting personalities taught me still more about the possibilities of single-channel vinyl playback. The Cadenza Mono ($1479; footnote 1) is a moving coil with an output of 0.45mV, an internal impedance of 5 ohms, and a recommended tracking force of 2.5gm. Unusually for a mono cartridge, its cylindrical aluminum cantilever terminates in a nude fine line stylus, a profile that didn't exist when most microgroove mono records were pressed. Its body is crafted from aluminum, and its coils are wound with ultrapure silver wire. That's right, coils. Unlike the Zero Mono, the Cadenza Mono has two of them, rotated to sit parallel to the record surface. According to Ortofon's Louis Dorio, this enables the cartridge to use a suspension that allows both vertical and horizontal movement, which means that the Cadenza Mono plays stereo records safely. A single-coil cartridge can damage a stereo LP, and accidentally playing one with the Miyajima resulted in a sound so evil and distorted that I won't be able to get it out of my head anytime soon.
First up was "Who Will the Next Fool Be" from Bobby Bland's 1961 Here's the Man (Duke DLP 75). This two-and-a-quarter-minute masterpiece, written by Charlie Rich long prior to his country stardom, inspired Bland to deliver one of the greatest vocal performances in R&B, a master class in emotiveness and control.
To get the obvious out of the way first, the advantages of playing mono LPs with a mono cartridge that I enjoyed with the Miyajima were just as evident with the Ortofon. Instead of being miniaturized to a point between the speakers, as it is by some stereo cartridges, Bland's voice emerged from a vast space, invigorated by superb dynamic expression, admirably low levels of groove noise, and compelling directness.
The Cadenza Mono handled pops and scratches with grace, minimizing their impact, but it wasn't quite as effective as the Miyajima at making them musically unintrusive. It also sounded smoother than the Japanese cartridge, lacking the Miyajima's tendency to very occasionally bite in the lower treble. These qualities allowed the Ortofon to extract maximum detail and poise from recent mono remasters, which didn't force it to contend with badly worn surfaces.
Finally, the Danish cartridge offered a more sober palette of tone colors than the Miyajima's. Those are far more saturated and vibrant, while the Cadenza's are possibly a bit more accurate—think of the difference between the film stock of a 1950s Technicolor spectacle like Rear Window and a 1980s Hollywood production like Heaven's Gate. And the Ortofon doesn't possess the more expensive Miyajima's remarkable density and physicality, instead offering a more transparent and cerebral take on the music.
Footnote 1: Ortofon A/S, Stavangervej 9, DK-4900 Nakskov, Denmark. Web: ortofon.com. US distributor: Ortofon USA, 500 Executive Blvd., Suite 102, Ossining, NY 10562. Tel: (914) 762-8646.
