In my gear stories, I use the word pure as a term to signify that the sounds of recordings are appearing to my aural-aesthetic discriminator as unpolluted, unmitigated, and unrestrained by various intrusions like noisy cone breakup, wheezing reflex ports, a behemoth enclosure that gets in its own way, or, worst of all, an energy-absorbing, dynamics-compressing passive crossover.
By driving a loudspeaker's voice-coil directly from the output of a dedicated power amplifier, a designer can avoid many of the problems that occur in passive speakers due to the impedance mismatches among the amplifier, speaker cables, and various voice-coils. Passive crossover networks employ large, expensive inductors, high-watt resistors, and fat film capacitors. By necessity, the design of passive crossovers leaves aspects of the amplifier-loudspeaker interface to chance.
Crossovers in active speakers are usually integrated just ahead (or sometimes inside) the power amplifier's circuitry and use smaller, less-expensive parts; the designer has more control over gain and EQ. Well-designed active speakers can achieve more predictable, consistent outcomes.
My ears declared that the active filters in the G Three seem more invisible—that they were doing less harm to the sound—than the crossovers in my sealed-box Falcons. All levels of dynamics, micro to macro, appeared less smeared and compressed than they do through GoldenEar's BRX, KEF's LS50, and my beloved Falcons. This dynamic clarity made recordings sound more relaxed, unhampered, and natural-flowing than through my Falcons powered by the Pass Labs XA25.
This uncompressed transparency was especially evident with Cardas's Clear Beyond cables connecting the Genelecs directly to the dCS Bartók DAC/streamer. (See my report in this month's Gramophone Dreams.) I found that the punch, power, transparency, apparent speed, and dynamic ease of the G Threes improved dramatically when I switched from Cardas's entry-level Iridium ($125 for a 1m pair) to their flagship Clear Beyond interconnects, which, at $4250 for a 1m length, cost a lot more than a pair of G Threes. The Bartók–Beyond–G Three system sounded like a complete, high-resolution, end-game audio ensemble that could give long-term pleasure to even the most discriminating audiophiles.
Fed by the Bartók, with the Clear Beyond interconnects, the G Three's natural-feeling transparency took the song "Melena," from the album Será una Noche, performed by La Segunda (24/96 AIFF, MA Recordings), to a place of pure, unadulterated beauty, where I could feel the air pressurizing the recording venue. The sound on this spectacular Todd Garfinkle recording carried all the music's mesmerizing force. The magic resulting from Todd's mike placement was on full display. With the Bartók/Beyond/G Three combination, nothing felt like too much or too little. The enchanting, rhythm-enhancing echo on "Taquito Militar" seemed precisely described—not truncated, exaggerated, or smeared.
The most immediate aspect of the G Three's sound was its unspoiled clarity, which reminded me of the unobstructed view I experienced with the crossoverless, full-range EJ Jordan Marlow. In my small room, the Genelecs sounded less raw and direct but just as clear—and bigger (soundspace-wise)—than the Marlows, with more energy and solidity at the frequency extremes.
When I returned to the LS3/5a
I'd been quite happily playing everything through the G Threes for about three weeks when a Stereophile reader named Aaron Garret recommended the album Air from a London-based group called Sault, which is led by Great Britain's Producer of the Year, Dean Josiah Cover, who also goes by Inflo (16/44.1 FLAC, Forever Living Originals/Qobuz). I had never heard of Sault, or Inflo, but I immediately fell for Air's edgy, noisy, choir-and-sound-collage unpredictability. Even more, I enjoyed Sault's melodramatic, Hollywood-esque film-score ironies and the way the album used strange, contrasting sounds to confront and challenge me. When I played Air's first several tracks through the Genelec G Threes, the volumes of air around vocals and synthesizer seemed excessively dense and closed in. I wasn't sure whether this thick mechanical texture I was noticing was an aspect of the recording or an artifact of the G Threes.
Soon, though, it became clear that I was hearing fake reverb-glue, which infused the whole recording. The various layered tracks (most featuring synthesizers) and heavily compressed movie-score orchestrations, set behind the equally compressed voices of the Music Confectionery choir, cried out for air and dimensionality. Alas, there was no air in Air; the album couldn't breathe. This music is good, but these Genelec G Threes did nothing to disguise Inflo's suffocating, effects-heavy production.
When I played this odd-sounding album through my Falcon Gold Badges, powered by Pass Labs' XA25, the sound opened up—a little. The tones of everything became slightly drier but also more saturated. The Falcons made this album more enjoyable. Some bit of Air's unsupple density was either exaggerated by or more clearly revealed by the Genelecs.
As I compared more albums through the G Threes and Falcons, though, it became apparent that the Genelecs emphasized detail more than the similar-sized LS3/5a's. With the G Threes, I could hear more of the nuts and bolts of album mixes. That extra insightfulness was one of the G Three's defining characteristics. Who doesn't like beauty and resolution, together?
There was one other time that the G Threes sounded different than I reasoned they should. I was listening to Cheng Gong Liang play "Melody of Contemplation" on Guqin (16/44.1 FLAC, Wind Music/Tidal). This album, which I know very well, was recorded by master recordist Kavichandran Alexander. Through the G Threes, it was moister and rounder and less precisely defined than with my Falcons, which play it with more transient bite, more clearly defined form, and stronger pluck. I have no explanation for this apparent inconsistency.
When I strained to listen critically, I noticed only one shortfall with the Genelecs, and it was minor. To my ears, the G Three's presentation was slightly ethereal—less of the Earth—than the more corporeal Falcon LS3/5a Gold Badges. Maybe the Genelec's cast-aluminum enclosure made me miss the flavor of the Brit speaker's wood box? I suspect the G Three's metal cabinet contributed more than a little to my impression of purity in its sound.
Sequence is everything. Each time I switched from the five-times-more-expensive Falcon/XA25 combo to the active Genelecs, on every recording I played I noticed the beauty of the G Threes' clear-lens resolve and their conspicuous purity. When I switched from the Genelecs to the Falcons, I noticed their surprising weight and natural tone.
Audiophile for life
Being an audiophile for life has been an odyssey of self-discovery, learning where to direct my listening attentions, what to care about, what to admire. I've learned to be a fan of audio companies that have stood the test of time; whose products have become esteemed classics by delivering high levels of long-term musical engagement, whose attitudes and engineering viewpoints reflect my values, and whose house sound feels insightful and true to the arts of music and recording. It's partially a style thing, but I've always been attracted to products with a recording studio/movie theater pedigree that looked sturdy and performed in an unfussy, professional manner. To my taste, too many of today's home hi-fi components are often too fluffy and bourgeois-looking, too much about ersatz "hi-fi" sound and glitzy trophy-product styling—all the more reason to appreciate affordable, professional-looking gear like the Genelec G Three.
I've long railed against speakers that need to be placed far away from room boundaries so that they can be listened to in some Eames-chair sweet spot even farther into the room. Consequently, I am a life-long advocate of nearfield listening and small, nearfield-monitor–type speakers. In this respect, too, the G Three matches my values.
I doubt you'll be surprised when I tell you I am over-the-moon crazy about Genelec's G Three minimonitor. It rendered recordings in a manner that really suits my listening proclivities.
And filled with song was the air
Genelec's G Three transduces more unpolluted truth than any other small speaker I've auditioned. Its unique purity is mesmerizing, a pleasure to hear. In my room, with my sources and preamp and wires, the G Three performs like an authentic studio monitor, providing copious detail without losing any of music's beauty or poetic content. My highest recommendation
Fed by the Bartók, with the Clear Beyond interconnects, the G Three's natural-feeling transparency took the song "Melena," from the album Será una Noche, performed by La Segunda (24/96 AIFF, MA Recordings), to a place of pure, unadulterated beauty, where I could feel the air pressurizing the recording venue. The sound on this spectacular Todd Garfinkle recording carried all the music's mesmerizing force. The magic resulting from Todd's mike placement was on full display. With the Bartók/Beyond/G Three combination, nothing felt like too much or too little. The enchanting, rhythm-enhancing echo on "Taquito Militar" seemed precisely described—not truncated, exaggerated, or smeared.
When I returned to the LS3/5aI'd been quite happily playing everything through the G Threes for about three weeks when a Stereophile reader named Aaron Garret recommended the album Air from a London-based group called Sault, which is led by Great Britain's Producer of the Year, Dean Josiah Cover, who also goes by Inflo (16/44.1 FLAC, Forever Living Originals/Qobuz). I had never heard of Sault, or Inflo, but I immediately fell for Air's edgy, noisy, choir-and-sound-collage unpredictability. Even more, I enjoyed Sault's melodramatic, Hollywood-esque film-score ironies and the way the album used strange, contrasting sounds to confront and challenge me. When I played Air's first several tracks through the Genelec G Threes, the volumes of air around vocals and synthesizer seemed excessively dense and closed in. I wasn't sure whether this thick mechanical texture I was noticing was an aspect of the recording or an artifact of the G Threes.
There was one other time that the G Threes sounded different than I reasoned they should. I was listening to Cheng Gong Liang play "Melody of Contemplation" on Guqin (16/44.1 FLAC, Wind Music/Tidal). This album, which I know very well, was recorded by master recordist Kavichandran Alexander. Through the G Threes, it was moister and rounder and less precisely defined than with my Falcons, which play it with more transient bite, more clearly defined form, and stronger pluck. I have no explanation for this apparent inconsistency.
When I strained to listen critically, I noticed only one shortfall with the Genelecs, and it was minor. To my ears, the G Three's presentation was slightly ethereal—less of the Earth—than the more corporeal Falcon LS3/5a Gold Badges. Maybe the Genelec's cast-aluminum enclosure made me miss the flavor of the Brit speaker's wood box? I suspect the G Three's metal cabinet contributed more than a little to my impression of purity in its sound.
Sequence is everything. Each time I switched from the five-times-more-expensive Falcon/XA25 combo to the active Genelecs, on every recording I played I noticed the beauty of the G Threes' clear-lens resolve and their conspicuous purity. When I switched from the Genelecs to the Falcons, I noticed their surprising weight and natural tone.
Being an audiophile for life has been an odyssey of self-discovery, learning where to direct my listening attentions, what to care about, what to admire. I've learned to be a fan of audio companies that have stood the test of time; whose products have become esteemed classics by delivering high levels of long-term musical engagement, whose attitudes and engineering viewpoints reflect my values, and whose house sound feels insightful and true to the arts of music and recording. It's partially a style thing, but I've always been attracted to products with a recording studio/movie theater pedigree that looked sturdy and performed in an unfussy, professional manner. To my taste, too many of today's home hi-fi components are often too fluffy and bourgeois-looking, too much about ersatz "hi-fi" sound and glitzy trophy-product styling—all the more reason to appreciate affordable, professional-looking gear like the Genelec G Three.
I've long railed against speakers that need to be placed far away from room boundaries so that they can be listened to in some Eames-chair sweet spot even farther into the room. Consequently, I am a life-long advocate of nearfield listening and small, nearfield-monitor–type speakers. In this respect, too, the G Three matches my values.
I doubt you'll be surprised when I tell you I am over-the-moon crazy about Genelec's G Three minimonitor. It rendered recordings in a manner that really suits my listening proclivities.
Genelec's G Three transduces more unpolluted truth than any other small speaker I've auditioned. Its unique purity is mesmerizing, a pleasure to hear. In my room, with my sources and preamp and wires, the G Three performs like an authentic studio monitor, providing copious detail without losing any of music's beauty or poetic content. My highest recommendation
