Gramophone Dreams

I was born an obsessive reader and a compulsive tinkerer. During the '60s, I subscribed to Popular Science, Popular Mechanics, Hot Rod, Car Craft, Motor Trend, Road & Track, and (of course) Stereo Review and High Fidelity. Every one of those magazines presented articles discussing the importance of upgrading stock wiring to better-quality "premium" wires, citing improved electrical performance and greater reliability.

That was a time when drag-racing cars began using thick, "fuel- and flame-resistant," silicone-sheathed wires between magnetos and spark plugs. Every street rodder who could afford it sported a Mallory Super Mag distributor. Exposed engines were the norm, and a Tach-Drive Super Mag with expensive, bright-colored spark-plug wires was a status symbol on street rods. Even the humble act of replacing the black-rubber–sheathed wires on your daily driver with the five-times-more-expensive bright-red silicone-sheathed Mallory or cadmium-yellow Accel cables proved you were serious about high performance. Likewise, at home with your hi-fi, abandoning lamp cord and rolling your own better-quality speaker cables proved you were serious about high-quality sound.

Magazine articles focused on wire gauge, conductor purity, strand geometry, and dielectric material. I remember reading, in an Audio Engineering Society article on telephone communications, that the difference between conductor and dielectric time constants was an important factor for speech transmission. Cable science was a hot topic during the Summer of Love.

Hi-fi magazines encouraged readers to experiment with heavier-gauge, high-purity copper wires in either solid-core or multistrand configurations. They advised enthusiasts that speaker wires affected sound character differently when deployed in parallel (as in lamp cord) than in twisted pairs. During my first year in college, I DIY-tried every such speaker-wire configuration. After two semesters of experimentation, I determined that loosely twisted pairs of 14-gauge solid-core wire best captured the snap of the snare and the leading edge of piano notes, while tightly twisted pairs of 14-gauge multistrand best displayed the pure tone of sopranos and the wavering textures of piano sustain. My annoying, high-IQ, drag racer, bass player, radar technician buddy Bill Brier said repeatedly that vacuum, then air, then silk followed by cotton were the most effective dielectrics for accurate signal transmission.

So here we are, 50 years later, still debating the best way to make audio cables that preserve the leading edge of plucked, strummed, bowed, and hammered notes, as well as their full decay. And here I am, still looking for wires that can do that. Fortunately, I learned a few things during those 50 years. For example, when comparing two cables, I make sure to note the degree of effect each cable has on the sound of my system. I assess the quantity of change. If that quantity is small, it's likely not important. If the quantity is large, I try to assess it qualitatively. Which wire preserves the signal best? Which is more accurate? These are abstract, system-dependent queries that every audiophile must answer for themselves, by listening.

Certain things—photons, gravity, beauty, love, art, audio accuracy—are in a sense invisible, yet they're experienced directly. When pianos and sopranos sound right, I know I am having a direct experience of accuracy.

One other potentially important thing I've learned from fiddling with audio wires: Original analog signals, like the ones I've heard from 15ips tapes, always display a natural harmonic halo, a tangible radiant aura. When this halo is present during playback, I know I am experiencing a good level of accuracy. I am not sure where audio signals acquire this radiant effect. Maybe it's from ribbon microphones? Or the recorder heads? Or the tubes in the microphone preamp? Or the mu-metal transformer cores? Maybe it's because more low-level harmonic information (maybe –60dB from the fundamental signal) is making it through the system? All I know is that the more I listened to LPs and analog tape, the more I recognized that harmonic halo. When I began using Koetsu cartridges, it became extremely obvious. But it wasn't there when I listened to CDs.

Now I am noticing that halo again—not just via triple-A analog but while streaming contemporary digital recordings through my dCS, HoloAudio, and Denafrips DACs. That same shimmering aura, or something very much like it, appeared in force when I switched from audio cables costing hundreds of dollars to more comprehensively engineered and meticulously manufactured cables costing thousands of dollars. I noticed it first in Gramophone Dreams #61 with the AudioQuest's ThunderBird interconnects, and I noticed it again this month with Cardas Audio's flagship Clear Beyond interconnects and speaker cables (footnote 1).

The wires I've tried
I have not used lamp cord for speaker cable since Annette Funicello was stuffing Wild Bikinis. In the early '70s, I switched the connection between my modified Dynaco Stereo 70 amplifier and my Large Advent speakers from a homemade, braided, stranded wire to an unbraided solid core. I thought it tightened up bass transients. When I switched to the Hafler DH-200 solid state amp, I went multistrand again with Fulton and Monster Cable. I thought both took the hard edge off the DH-200. When I built tube amps in the '80s, I advocated for cloth-covered NOS Western Electric (WE) wires. I made all my DIY interconnects with twisted, unshielded pairs of WE wire and Switchcraft connectors. In the early '90s, I became a full-on Kimber Kable fanboy/devotee, using Ray's silver and copper wires as interconnect, speaker cable, and hookup wire inside my DIY amplifiers.

Silver Kimber Kable introduced me to what I call the "silver aura," a type of radiance much like the shimmering harmonic halo I experienced with analog signals. I thought this luminous aura made recordings sound beautiful and luxurious but still pure, naturally bright, and microscopically detailed. I was predisposed, therefore, to the silver-wire sound when I took over the US distribution of Audio Note Japan in 1993. Audio Note's hand-drawn silver Litz seemed relaxed and natural. I used Audio Note's silver wires exclusively until 2003, when I sold off all my fancy amps and expensive wires and reverted to a much simpler system: a Linn LP12 turntable, a Creek 4330 integrated amplifier, and my BFF Rogers LS3/5a speakers, on wall brackets. With this system, I used copper wires from the $100 end of the AudioQuest line.

I lived happily with what I call my "British Home Office System" until 2014, when I began writing for Stereophile and realized I needed to investigate how far cable engineering had advanced since Annette was a Mouseketeer. Now, here I am, worshipping deceased opera singers transported to my little room through thick, high-tech copper cables that cost several thousand dollars per meter.

Cardas Clear Beyond interconnects
Great opera singers like my beloved Maria Callas supercharge the air in front of them with the purest tones and the most dramatic dynamics. They electrify large halls to the point where the audience feels the song's energy penetrate their being. My favorite audio systems mimic this effect: They put sound into the room with vigorous, tangible force. The singer's raw energy captured on the recording is not lost. It is projected in an exciting, believable fashion.

Only a few months ago, I could not have imagined the amount of change I experienced when I removed Cardas's entry-level Iridium interconnect between the dCS Bartók DAC and Genelec's G Three active speakers and replaced it with that maker's flagship Clear Beyond interconnect. Cows from the next county came running on hearing the intensity and force of Callas's voice performing Georges Bizet's "L'amour est un oiseau rebelle," from Carmen, on Pure Maria Callas: Callas Remastered (24/96 FLAC Warner Classics/Qobuz). When I inserted the Beyond interconnect, the apparent volume of the recording venue expanded dramatically—and with that expansion came an equally dramatic sense of separation between the supporting forces of the Orchestre de l'Opéra National de Paris and the Choeurs René Duclos.

---

Footnote 1: Cardas Audio Ltd., 480 11th St. SE, Bandon, OR 97411. Tel: (541) 342-2484. Web: cardas.com