Brilliant Corners

One of my favorite things about this pastime is the modesty of its aims. Despite the sometimes-astronomical sums spent on gear, and the small handful of drama queens who populate various corners of this hobby, all we're doing is trying to enjoy recorded music at home. No one here is reversing planetary warming or solving the Riemann hypothesis. The sole purpose of the pursuit we write about in these pages is to please, enlighten, and entertain. I like that about it.

This means that aesthetics matter. During a recent trip to Japan, I found myself marveling at the many vintage audio components used in both public listening spaces and people's homes, and the high prices these meticulously restored devices command. I found many of them lovely, the patina of age only adding to their allure. In the West, where we believe in eternal progress, it's common to ask whether these components' performance is up to contemporary standards. "Sure, it looks cool, but how does it sound?" we might ask, as though the physical beauty of the gear is a distraction or, worse, a ploy. Recall the old audiophile joke about the initials of the design-forward Danish manufacturer Bang & Olufsen standing for "beauty only."

In Tokyo, fellow listeners explained to me that the history, appearance, and even provenance of a component are inseparable from its sound. How can one fully appreciate hearing a vintage Marantz 8B amplifier without deriving pleasure and meaning from its industrial peanut-butter–brown casework and round bias meter—reminiscent of a prop from James Whale's Frankenstein—not to mention what the amp's burnished sound represents in audio history? Like a participant in the tea ceremony—where the myriad details of the surroundings matter as much as the tea in your bowl—an appreciative listener responds to everything.

That's why your preferences matter, too. Not because they are "correct," but because they are a path to deeper listening—into the appreciative, quietly excited, and self-forgetful state most of us look for. It doesn't matter if you are mesmerized by the glowing filaments of Depression-era triodes and spinning black disks or the futuristic promise of streamed digital and class-D amps. What's important is that they speak to you and take you deeper into your favorite music. Affinity is a sign that something good and possibly life-affirming is happening. Don't let any self-styled expert talk you out of it.

Consolidated Audio "Monster Can" MC Step-Up Transformers
I've been thinking about affinity while listening to a remarkable pair of step-up transformers from Berlin's Consolidated Audio (footnote 1). Like many things in audio, SUTs make some people uncomfortable. They believe that the tiny signal of a low-output moving coil phono cartridge should be entrusted to a high-gain phono preamplifier, preferably one that uses ultraquiet transistors, to preserve the information on the record. But others insists that a SUT is the preferable way of amplifying these delicate phono signals, claiming that transformers offer an ideal method for loading the cartridge and a more natural sound. Though these two approaches to playing records have been around for decades, neither camp has managed yet to persuade the other.

I've experienced deeply satisfying results using both methods, though admittedly I find the mysteries of hand-wound magnetics pretty irresistible. I enjoy looking at transformers, too. Still, it would be dishonest to pretend that SUTs consistently outperform active phono stages. In my system, when I compare using a SUT to routing the phono signal directly to the resistive input of the Manley Steelhead—the input with no step-up transformer—the results often favor the Steelhead. But then it's hardly fair to compare the performance of a circa-$1000 SUT, like the various models from Auditorium 23 and CineMag I've been using, to a $10,000 phono stage.

I've been curious to find out how this experiment might pan out with a SUT designed with few to no compromises to keep the unit's price and size in check. Michael Ulbrich, Consolidated Audio's sole employee, makes just such a product, which he has dubbed the Monster Can MC step-up transformer. The moniker refers to its unusual size and weight. Many SUTs are not much larger than a walnut, but the Monster Can measures 5" tall and 5¼" in diameter and, depending on internal construction, weighs between 7 and 9lb.

According to the softspoken Ulbrich, an electrical engineer who's worked for legendary microphone manufacturer Neumann, the rationale for these zaftig dimensions is twofold: to accommodate a transformer core massive enough to eliminate the possibility of saturation, and to allow space for "certain winding geometries" that enable wideband frequency response and superior dynamics. The exact nature of these geometries is something Ulbrich prefers to keep to himself.

The Consolidated Audio SUT is also uncommonly customizable. Strap yourself in, because things are about to get geeky. Ulbrich offers choices of core material (nanocrystalline or mu-metal); primary inductance (high, medium, low, or extra-low, the choice of which depends on your cartridge's internal impedance); turns ratio (1:10, 1:15, and 1:20 are standard, though others are available); and finally wire (copper or silver, depending on your system and taste). Copper-wired models cost €3700; silver raises the price to €4700.

When discussing this review, I told Ulbrich that I would be using the Monster Can with the Dynavector XV-1S, Ortofon SPU Royal N, and the Miyajima Zero Mono. Since all three cartridges have an internal impedance of 6 or 7 ohms and output voltages ranging from 0.2 to 0.4mV, we decided that a SUT with low primary inductance and a 1:20 turns ratio (which presents the cartridges with a load of 118 ohms) was ideal. I opted for copper wire but could not decide between the core materials, so Ulbrich graciously offered to send me both. In terms of functionality, the Monster Can is fairly straightforward. Its top plate offers a grounding lug and three sets of unbalanced RCA jacks that accommodate input and output cables and resistors for additional loading. (Optional balanced XLR jacks add €1300 to the price.) Since cables plug in from the top, make sure that your shelf has enough height to accommodate the transformer, especially if you use heroically thick interconnects. If you'd like to use the SUT horizontally without having it roll off of your shelf, you can request a custom-made wooden cradle.

The unit with the nanocrystalline core, wound with copper wire from Cardas, arrived first. Ulbrich says that compared to the standard copper wire, the Cardas "improves a tiny bit on warmth and body." It also adds €200 to the price. With the capable and really fun SPU Royal N mounted on the Well Tempered Lab Amadeus 254 GT record player, I routed one set of Auditorium 23 interconnects from the turntable to the Monster Can and another to the Steelhead's resistive input. Following Ulbrich's suggestion, I grounded the record player to the SUT and the SUT to the phono stage. Then I went to get a record.

Are you old enough to remember those movie theaters where, after the previews, the screen would suddenly grow wider for the feature? I experienced something like this while listening to the opening of "The Man in the Long Black Coat" from Bob Dylan's Oh Mercy (Columbia 45281), a record I play often. Dylan's guitar and Daniel Lanois's dobro, panned left and right, were located way farther outside the speakers than I'd heard them. This VistaVision soundstage was not only wide but tall: Dylan's tarpaper voice sprang from a spot near my loft's ceiling. In addition to being located farther apart from each other, the sounds themselves had grown larger and more dimensional—not only was Dylan 15' tall; his mouth sounded as large as a hula hoop. The way the Monster Can handled scale was sensational.

Another striking aspect of the German SUT was its liquidity—maybe effortlessness is a more precise description. Music emerged with less struggle, sounded faster and more brightly illuminated, and seemed to flow in the manner of rapidly running water. I recognized this quicksilver quality because I'd first encountered it in the other SUT with a nanocrystalline core that I have written about for this column: the far more expensive Murasakino Nobala. I'm not in the habit of quoting myself, but the following description of the Nobala's sound applies equally well to the Monster Can's: "If listening to most transformers feels like sipping water through a straw, listening to the Nobala was like suddenly sipping through a garden hose. It simply let through more of everything: detail, texture, dynamics, even groove noise."

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Footnote 1: Consolidated Audio, Am Volkspark 55, 10715 Berlin, Germany. Tel: (+49) 030 49771162. Email: mul@consolidated-audio. de. Web: consolidated-audio.de/en. Also see Analog Corner #300.