Listening: The world's best record-players all exhibit an eerie silence coupled to a precise, palpable, and captivating spatiality—which is what we pay so much extra for. By comparison, my stoop-sale Technics SL-1200 Mk.2 is conspicuously noisy and spatially vague. The reconceived 1200, the new Grand Class SL-1200GAE, with its new motor-drive system, went a surprisingly long way toward correcting these problems.
I used four cartridges with the Technics: an Ortofon 2M Black MM, a Hana by Excel EL low-output MC, my Zu Denon DL-103 MC, and a mono-wired Shure M44 MM with 78rpm stylus. My listening notes look like this: "SILENCE, PRECISION, SILENCE, mucho dynamics, easy by nature, expansive, SPATIAL CORRECTNESS, tiny info/detail, jump & jive, quieter and FIRMER than the old 1200! BOOGIE oogie WOOGIE and Smoooooth!"
Quiet, lively, and precise accurately describe how the Technics SL-1200GAE played records. With every cartridge, the 'GAE's octave-to-octave energy balance felt even and authentic.
Energy-wise, the SL-1200GAE made my newly beloved Linn LP12 with Valhalla power supply feel uneven, a bit out of control (especially in the lower octaves), and possibly a tad vapid. (Linn's Lingo power supply and Cirkus platter-bearing and subchassis upgrades would likely cancel those disparities.) To my surprise, rhythm, melody, and bass lines were more easily noticed and enjoyable to follow with the Technics. As I trolled through my Mango, Island, and Studio One records, I realized that the SL-1200GAE was beating my Linn Sondek LP12 at its own game: It had major force factor and foot-stomping momentum—perhaps the best I've ever experienced. The 'GAE captured the urgency of Miles Davis, the potency of Junior Wells, and the inspired delirium of Roy Acuff singing Hank Williams's "I Saw the Light," from the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's Will the Circle Be Unbroken (3 LPs, United Artists UAS-9801).
Music played on the Technics was better organized, easier to comprehend. The SL-1200GAE did an especially good job of describing full orchestras. Because it reproduced, without blurring, the dynamic spreads of notes and instruments, from silence to full-on drive and swing, it made piano concertos seem less confused and overwrought than they sometimes do.
The one important trait the Technics SL-1200GAE lacked was the Linn Sondek LP12's enjoyable suppleness and sensual elasticity. No matter which cartridge or phono stage I tried, my No.1 complaint about the new Technics was its tendency toward lowered viscosity. I wouldn't quite call it stiff, but no one could characterize the 'GAE as sounding liquid or licentious. Many, however, might call it accurate, because it made LPs sound a lot like good hi-rez digital: crisp, highly controlled, and dynamically uncompressed. (Could I have been hearing the 'GAE's digital speed control?) Meanwhile . . .
The Technics SL-1200GAE must be an audiophile turntable. Why? Because it placed images in space with more certainty and bas-relief than any 'table I've used in my home. Soundstages appeared fully developed in a way similar to what the most expensive audiophile turntables can do. Of course, it wasn't as deathly quiet or as low-level informative as a three-motor Dr. Feickert Analogue Firebird ($12,500) or a Döhmann Helix I ($40,000), but the musicians reproduced on the SL-1200GAE's soundstages were present and tangible in ways the old SL-1200 couldn't even hint at. Compared to the best turntables at any price, the 'GAE was weak on sustain, truncated note decays, and lacked psychedelic color—but it made my old SL-1200 Mk.2 and my ancient Thorens TD 124 sound hollow, unspecific, and noisy.
Mes trois conclusions: I'll be writing a Follow-Up about the Technics Grand Class SL-1200GAE 50th Anniversary Limited Edition in which I'll delve more deeply into the musical vicissitudes of this shiny new machine. For now, I'll answer three questions about it:
Is the SL-1200GAE better than its legendary predecessors? The SL-1200GAE was so quiet, precise, and forceful that it made my old SL-1200 Mk.2 feel and sound almost like a toy. It played with substantially more detail, dynamics, and musical authority than either the SL-1200 Mk.2 or Pioneer's PLX-1000 ($699).
Is the SL-1200GAE an audiophile-quality turntable that can compete in a high-end audio marketplace filled with scores of quality contenders costing less than $5000? I believe that it is. It did all the audiophile tricks—especially low noise, precise imaging, midrange clarity, bass punch, and openness of the high frequencies—and it out-boogied them all.
Is the SL-1200GAE worth $4000? Unquestionably. Its materials and build quality are superb, and, to my taste and experience, it played records as well as or better than any turntable listed in Class B of Stereophile's "Recommended Components."
Hana by Excel EL moving-coil cartridge
Your secrets are safe with me: I forget them the moment I hear them. Because of this quasi-willful amnesia, it has been my fate to be admitted to some expensive hotel rooms in which I have witnessed groups of smirking high-end audio gangsters actually making up the prices of their ultra-expensive gear. I can hear you thinking: Well . . . don't they just multiply the costs of design, manufacturing, and marketing by a factor of six or seven? I'm sure they don't, but I forget why . . .
Trust me: With all commercial goods, the first and most important design consideration is price. This is especially true with high-end phono cartridges, which typically are little more than bunches of tiny OEM parts assembled on a workbench by a third-party manufacturer with a microscope and an exotic-sounding name. Never forget: The value (in dollars and sense) of any person, place, or thing is determined mainly by the mythology surrounding it.
Imagine that you're an OEM manufacturer of styli, cantilevers, magnets, wire, etc., and you're selling thousands upon thousands of tiny bits of wire, stone, and iron that end up in cartridges selling for zillions of dollars. One day, you might wake up and think, Hmmmm . . . maybe I'm in the wrong part of the cartridge racket. Maybe I should put some workbenches in the corner of my factory and cut out those gangsters and their overpriced mythologies. I already have all the bits—I could make a genuine high-end cartridge, sell it at a reasonable price, and make a lot of audiophiles on modest budgets very happy. This type of thinking is probably what inspired Hiroshi Ishihara, of Japan's Sibatech, Inc., to commission from Excel Sound Corporation a new line of moderately priced cartridges called Hana by Excel.
Excel Sound Corporation is a Tokyo company that, since the 1970s, has made high-quality moving-coil cartridges, both OEM and under its own name. Excel is highly regarded for the quality of its engineering and the precision of its manufacturing.
Aside from minor variances in their performance specs, the four Hana by Excel MC cartridges differ only in their stylus profiles and output voltages. The EH and EL models ($475 each) have elliptical styli, the SH and SL ($750 each) have Shibata styli. The EH and SH have an output voltage of 2mV, the EL and SL 0.5mV.
All four Hanas have aluminum cantilevers and alnico magnets. I love alnico because I feel that the material yields a uniquely relaxed, colorful, and naturally textured sound. For me, there's something very natural and non–hi-fi about the character of music made with alnico-magnet transducers. Of course, I can't prove it's the alnico, but the Hana EL presented music with an alnico-like feeling of homespun organic rightness. The EL's basic sonic character was highly musical and exceptionally nonmechanical.
The Hana EL's compliance of 10 x 10–6cm/dyne appeared to perfectly match the effective mass of my SME M2-9 tonearm ($1099), the combination exhibiting a moderate resonance at 9.5Hz. The EL tracked everything on Shure's Era IV Audio Obstacle Course test LP and never seemed to overstimulate the arm or bearings.
I listened mostly through the MC phono section of Rogue Audio's new RP-1 preamplifier ($1695). Using the RP-1's internal jumpers, I loaded the 30-ohm Hana EL at 300 ohms. The combination demonstrated Technicolor mids, liquid (but not overly extended) highs, and a delightful way with plucked double bass. Records were effortlessly engaging and well sorted. The only things I wished for were a tad more slam and some dewdrop sparkle.
With the Dynavector P75 phono stage ($895) set to 470 ohms, I experienced sharper transient attacks and a more hypertextured midrange. Bells, gongs, and cymbals sounded enjoyably real. Drums picked up some power. The soundstage became more tightly formed and densely layered. Recording venues increased in air and volume.
I bought a new Moondog album, Snaketime Series (LP, Moondog 1), and could not stop playing it. Snaketime Series played with Moondog-enhancing clarity. Car sounds and ambient street noises sounded satisfyingly real. Both the Rogue RP-1 and the Dynavector P75 phono stages made the Hana feel like a more expensive cartridge than it is, but I was curious to see just how much, if anything, I would lose by switching to Schiit Audio's humble but always-overachieving Mani phono stage ($129).
With the Mani, punch, detail, and drive were all noticeably reduced, but the Hana EL's easygoing musical magic decreased not at all. Midrange colors were still enjoyable. I listened to five Miles Davis records in a row with the Schiit Mani and Hana EL. I found them, in musical terms, a damn-near unbeatable budget combination. With every disc, Miles's trumpet—and the reverberating air around it—sounded inexorably real,
When I mounted the Hana EL in the tonearm of Technics' new Grand Class SL-1200GAE 50th Anniversary Limited Edition turntable, it retained its unpretentious charm but suddenly picked up energy and began dancing like a Gypsy, sounding more dynamic, spontaneous, and tuneful. I played this combo for some old-timer audiophiles. At first they were skeptical, but in short order their heads were bobbing and they were pounding their knees like bongos. All of them said they liked the Hana EL better than the Denon DL-103. So did I.
All through this review period I listened to the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's 1972 masterpiece, Will the Circle Be Unbroken (3 LPs, United Artists UAS 9801), produced by William McEuen (who also plays banjo and mandolin) and featuring Vassar Clements, Earl Scruggs, Roy Acuff, Doc Watson, Mother Maybelle Carter, and a score of other old-school country-music wizards. I played Acuff singing the Hank Williams classic "I Saw the Light" on every possible combination of Hana EL, tonearm, turntable, and phono stage, and—please don't laugh or get angry—I most liked the Hana EL's boogie, excitement, and instrumental tone with the Technics SL-1200GAE turntable and tonearm ($4000) driving the Dynavector SUP-200 MC step-up transformer ($2500) driving Dynavector's P75 phono stage ($895) in MM mode. I know, I know—these are some expensive backing singers—but the exceedingly natural-sounding Hana EL by Excel was totally worthy of such support. I love it.
Music played on the Technics was better organized, easier to comprehend. The SL-1200GAE did an especially good job of describing full orchestras. Because it reproduced, without blurring, the dynamic spreads of notes and instruments, from silence to full-on drive and swing, it made piano concertos seem less confused and overwrought than they sometimes do.
The one important trait the Technics SL-1200GAE lacked was the Linn Sondek LP12's enjoyable suppleness and sensual elasticity. No matter which cartridge or phono stage I tried, my No.1 complaint about the new Technics was its tendency toward lowered viscosity. I wouldn't quite call it stiff, but no one could characterize the 'GAE as sounding liquid or licentious. Many, however, might call it accurate, because it made LPs sound a lot like good hi-rez digital: crisp, highly controlled, and dynamically uncompressed. (Could I have been hearing the 'GAE's digital speed control?) Meanwhile . . .
Your secrets are safe with me: I forget them the moment I hear them. Because of this quasi-willful amnesia, it has been my fate to be admitted to some expensive hotel rooms in which I have witnessed groups of smirking high-end audio gangsters actually making up the prices of their ultra-expensive gear. I can hear you thinking: Well . . . don't they just multiply the costs of design, manufacturing, and marketing by a factor of six or seven? I'm sure they don't, but I forget why . . .
Trust me: With all commercial goods, the first and most important design consideration is price. This is especially true with high-end phono cartridges, which typically are little more than bunches of tiny OEM parts assembled on a workbench by a third-party manufacturer with a microscope and an exotic-sounding name. Never forget: The value (in dollars and sense) of any person, place, or thing is determined mainly by the mythology surrounding it.
Imagine that you're an OEM manufacturer of styli, cantilevers, magnets, wire, etc., and you're selling thousands upon thousands of tiny bits of wire, stone, and iron that end up in cartridges selling for zillions of dollars. One day, you might wake up and think, Hmmmm . . . maybe I'm in the wrong part of the cartridge racket. Maybe I should put some workbenches in the corner of my factory and cut out those gangsters and their overpriced mythologies. I already have all the bits—I could make a genuine high-end cartridge, sell it at a reasonable price, and make a lot of audiophiles on modest budgets very happy. This type of thinking is probably what inspired Hiroshi Ishihara, of Japan's Sibatech, Inc., to commission from Excel Sound Corporation a new line of moderately priced cartridges called Hana by Excel.
Excel Sound Corporation is a Tokyo company that, since the 1970s, has made high-quality moving-coil cartridges, both OEM and under its own name. Excel is highly regarded for the quality of its engineering and the precision of its manufacturing.
