Brilliant Corners

Some years ago, I visited the home of a well-known American author who happened to be an audiophile. His cramped, dimly lit listening room contained a tube amp, a DAC, and a pair of inexpensive floorstanding speakers surrounded by what looked like a museum of audio tweaks. I recall a scarecrow-like contraption with swiveling wood-and-metal arms that rearranged magnetic fields, assorted boxes and panels that promoted "quantum proton alignment," mysterious dots covering the walls like a rash, and nearly a dozen things dangling from the speakers' binding posts that were supposed to do something I can't remember. The author had an almost mystical belief in the power of these objects to bend the laws of physics and told me that he'd spent more on them than on the rest of the system, because in his opinion they were more important to the overall sound.

The thing that surprised me most is that despite the tweaks—or maybe because of them—his hi-fi sounded pretty terrific.

The author's listening room may be an extreme case of tweakery run amok. Yet components like cables, stands, and power conditioners can play a big role in shaping our listening experience, and they seem to cause the most online dust-ups. So in this column I'd like to talk about how these secondary but still fascinating items have worked in my hi-fi and discuss my experiences with two recently arrived products—one of which is certain to strain some readers' credulity.

For nearly 10 years, I've kept my gear on racks from Brooklyn's Box Furniture Co (footnote 1). I like Anthony Abbate's work because it doesn't resemble the kind of thing you'd see in a server farm or a military installation. Made by hand using mortise and tenon joints, real hardwoods, and no more embellishment than absolutely required, it is beautiful in the manner of actual furniture in a real human home. Abbate doesn't get too specific about the materials he uses inside the shelves, but they make my components sound terrific and never interfere with the music.

For most of this time, I've enjoyed Box Furniture's maple four-shelf rack and amplifier stand; sonically, they provided a vast upgrade over the cheap and ready Target Audio rack I'd used for ages. Then about a year ago I inherited a friend's Box—a double-wide, three-shelf model in walnut—which allowed me to place two turntables side by side. I found it to sound a little richer, more colorful, and just plain better than the taller maple stand; I suspect this is due to the more stable footprint. The maple stand now keeps gear in for review off the floor and continues to look marvelous.

Racks aside, I've had scant success, or just rotten luck, with vibration-control devices. It's certainly not for lack of trying. As a much younger man, I once placed two computer keyboard–type wrist pads, each about the size of a turkey sub, under my EAR 859 integrated amp. When I gave the amp a push, it jiggled reassuringly. Sitting down to listen, I heard an improvement that was, literally, stunning: a massive expansion of the soundfield, more detail and texture, faster transients, and a smoother, more musical personality. I felt like a genius, but only for another day. That's how long it took for the memory gel in the pads to compress to their new shape under the amplifier and for the benefits to evaporate.

Ever since, I've listened to dozens of pods, pucks, cones, roller balls, and platforms, hoping to be amazed. I've found all of them to change the sound, but, alas, rarely entirely for the better. When I read comments by people who think this hobby comes down to little more than confirmation bias, I sometimes wish they were right. Over the course of my listening life, I've had some success placing Black Diamond Racing cones under a Rega Planar 3, and for a while I flirted with Cardas Myrtlewood blocks, which effected a modest improvement under certain components. The only device that has remained in my system is a quartet of IsoAcoustics Orea Bordeaux footers, which live under my Garrard 301 and its lovely Box Furniture Co. plinth. With the Oreas, I perceive a slightly larger soundstage and a little less smearing; these changes are consistently audible but in no way dramatic. I will keep looking for other vibration-control devices, but discouragement is setting in.

Happily, I feel nothing but enthusiasm for the Dr. Feickert Analogue Universal Alignment Protractor, a device that I believe to be Germany's greatest contribution to culture since Klaus Nomi. Compared to the plastic Dennesen Sountracktor it replaced, the all-metal Feickert is just as simple to use and far less fiddly: Once you find the tonearm's pivot point and tighten everything, you're basically done. Nothing moves or flexes, and the markings are as precise as you'd wish for. Thank you to Michael Trei for the recommendation.

My eyes and I are in our 50s, and to make sure I can see the cartridge's stylus during alignment, I rely on a large, illuminated magnifier, the kind with a handle and LED lights that folks with dodgy eyesight use to read the menus at IHOP. (It's listed on Amazon as the MagniPros Patented 6X Rechargeable Magnifying Glass and sells for $24.65.) It works well, as does the generic stylus force gauge, regrettably also bought on Amazon, that costs as much as a latte in midtown Manhattan. In the same it-just-works category are the AudioQuest antistatic record brush and the Audio Technica AT607a stylus cleaning fluid, which I apply not directly to the cartridge, as the how-to video advises, but to a stylus brush.

Since writing about it for this column, I've continued cleaning records with the Degritter Mk. II. After a year of use, it remains one of the most enjoyable audio devices I've had in my home, and with occasional water changes and filter cleanings, it's as effective as ever at making LPs less noisy and more fun to listen to. Using it stills feels decidedly upscale, sort of like cleaning records in business class. Maybe the Degritter should come with a half-bottle of Bollinger and a bowl of warm cashews.

As Michael Trei pointed out in a recent column, ultrasonic machines lacking a rinse cycle can leave a thin layer of residue on the record, and I've found the Degritter guilty of this, too. Playing a freshly Degritted record sometimes leaves a bit of gunk on the stylus (which is easily enough removed). So when I'm feeling patient enough, I subject the records to a second cleaning in my VPI HW-16.5 vacuum machine, which is getting old enough to drive. With its loud motor and pair of squirt bottles, it's not a lot of fun to use, but it removes the leftover gunk and is absolutely required for really dirty records. LPs lucky enough to go through both machines really do sound fantastic.

Then there's the AudioQuest Niagara 3000, the first power conditioner I haven't hated (footnote 2). I've never gotten on with these devices: In exchange for more silent silences, most tend to compress an amplifier's dynamics. I've always plugged amplifiers into the wall. The Niagara is the first conditioner I've heard that doesn't rob the music of excitement, likely thanks to a feature AudioQuest calls Transient Power Correction: In brief bursts, the two high-current outlets can provide 55A of current to the amplifier, so the voltage does not sag during dynamic peaks. Regardless of the reason, amps I plug into it never sound compressed, rubbery, or otherwise compromised, but they do play considerably quieter. Listening in my 100-year-old converted factory building, I've often been aware of the way the quality of the AC power varied; my hi-fi sounds particularly hashy and gray during New York's long air-conditioner season. After installing the Niagara, there are no more good or bad power days: the hi-fi sounds the same day and night.

The Niagara is the brainchild of AudioQuest's Garth Powell. To my ears, the company's products perform far better since his arrival. Powell also had a hand in the design of the Hurricane and Thunder power cables, which in my system outperform other AC cords I've tried, making components sound so obviously richer and more powerful that just about anyone could hear the difference.

On the other hand, AudioQuest's equally rich-sounding Mythical Creatures interconnects haven't been able to supplant my longstanding favorites from Auditorium 23, which are more transparent, balanced, and musically keen than any I've heard. Sadly, according to importer Jonathan Halpern, Keith Aschenbrenner's little company is no longer in operation.

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Footnote 1: Box Furniture Co., Brooklyn, Navy Yard, Brooklyn, NY. Web: boxfurnitureco.com/.

Footnote 2: AudioQuest, 2621 White Rd, Irvine, CA 92614. Tel: (800) 747-2770. Email: info@audioquest.com Web: audioquest.com