After break-in, I plugged my studio's monitor controller into the balanced analog inputs on the primary speaker using standard XLR cables. (The Neutrik universal-balanced sockets on the 4329Ps, which are common on pro and prosumer equipment, also allow a ¼" TRS connection.) I switched the input to balanced analog and cranked the volume up all the way to listen for hum or hiss. Hearing none, I turned the volume back down to a civilized level and listened to some music played back from the studio computer.
My downstairs space is about 10' × 20', with an 8' ceiling. I set up the 4329Ps down there as recommended in the user manual, toed-in 30°. They had a "horny" sound—a forward upper midrange—but they didn't scream, and their bass extension was impressive for medium-sized boxes. Set up this way, the soundstage was noticeably concave to the frontal plane of the speaker boxes.
I used my monitor controller to switch between the Amphion Two18 near-field speakers in the studio and the JBLs. These two sets of speakers sounded so different that it's hardly worth discussing. The Amphions are nearfield monitors, and I wouldn't use the JBLs that way: They are too large and voiced too bright. They would work for critical monitoring in the right room: A vigorous upper midrange can be an ally in mixing because it reveals the stereo soundstage vividly and will quickly expose an extraneous guitar buzz or squeaky drum pedal.
Once again, I started with the 4329Ps toed in by 30°, as recommended, in front and toward the insides of where my B&W 808s usually stand. In that position, the JBLs' front corners were about 6.5' from the back wall and about a quarter of the way out into the living room. Again, the center of the large and wide stereo image was concave and recessed, until I reduced the toe-in, ultimately to around 10°—same 3D stereo image but now with the center in line with the sides. Also now, the height of the image extended above the speaker boxes.
It was time to play records. I connected my Pro-Ject Phono Box RS2 phono preamp to the primary speaker using balanced XLR cables. My Technics SL-1200MK7 Anniversary Edition turntable was fitted with a vintage Shure V-15 Type III moving magnet cartridge. I have adjusted the output level of the Pro-Ject preamp so that the relative listening volume of vinyl is akin to similar music played from digital sources. (Recorded levels for vinyl vary somewhat, but not as much as for un-normalized digital recordings.) I've been enjoying two recent Craft Recordings reissues of 1970s
Fania Records salsa classics, Ray Barretto's Que Viva La Música (LP, Fania/Craft CR00553) and La Voz by Héctor Lavoe (LP, Fania/Craft CR00644). Both were recorded in Fania's Good Vibrations Sound Studios, by engineers skilled at capturing the dynamic and powerful sound of Latin percussion, several brass instruments playing full bore, and emotive singing. I could not understand the lyrics, so I looked up some translations online. There is plenty of drama in these songs, especially Lavoe's (footnote 6). Percussion sounded full-range and crisp. Side B of Barretto's album begins with "Cocinando," a Latin-funk classic, the theme music for the gritty and charming documentary Our Latin Thing (footnote 7). "Cocinando" is 10 minutes 10 seconds of intense beats and solos, typical of Barretto's long LP cuts going back to the title cut of his superb Fania debut, Acid (LP, Fania SLP 346). Craft gave these Fania records the full AAA treatment, with Kevin Gray cutting lacquers direct from the master tapes. They turned out well. Here's hoping there are more in the pipeline.
I dove in, spinning random parts of random picks from the mono and stereo-era boxes, enjoying in a new context what I had gotten to know well in the studio in 2021 and early '22. These mono recordings sounded full but focused in the center between the speakers. The soundstage was wide, high, and detailed, as it should be. Contained in those boxes are Doráti's famous recordings of Tchaikovsky's "1812" Overture—the mono version was the best-selling classical recording of the 1950s and an early hi-fi system test. The JBL woofers and ports did the job with that real-deal Napoleon-era French cannon. The stereo version, which also went Gold, was also a turntable torture test in its day, challenging systems with an even bigger cannon and the bells of Manhattan's Riverside Church. While the 4329Ps could not fill the living room with that huge sound, I was stunned by the realism of the cannon blasts, quick and chest-pounding percussive of not quite full bore, and by the width and height of the ringing bells—and also by the fact that the speakers survived to play another day.
On music with great dynamics, such as Gunther Schuller's Seven Studies on Themes of Paul Klee, the JBLs dug out subtle textures and details and showed no sign of trouble with fast percussive sweeps from ppp to fff. I pronounce this gadget able and ready to play classical music of any sort, or, for that matter, any other genre.
Summing upThe JBL 4329P is a complete audio system, lacking only music, which could be nothing more than a smartphone, an internet conection, and a streaming account. It can play files from a NAS, or, while it can't extract information from discs either silver or black, it can play that data back once it's extracted. Connectivity options are many and varied.
Footnote 6: Héctor Lavoe's life was quite dramatic and ultimately tragic. See bit.ly/3CLgh4T.
