When listening resumed, the nova300 sounded considerably less dry, if not quite tube-like, though a trace of treble grain remained audible. But that was offset by exceptionally good musical momentum and at least decent sonic color, both of which I heard in the nova300's portrayal of "At the Meeting House," from Julian Lage and Chris Eldridge's Close to Picture (CD EP, no label, no catalog number). The Peachtree presented the two acoustic guitarists in a manner that emphasized the lightness and delicacy and precision of their flatpicking, as opposed to presenting a meaty or corporeal sound. This carried over to the duo's rendering of the traditional fiddle tune "Cattle in the Cane," which was beautifully melodic, but with more of a sense of fleetness than a sense of drive, per se.
Looking for recordings of arrangements a bit more complex, I turned to an SACD reissue of the Band's The Last Waltz (SACD/CD, Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab Ultradisc UDSACD 2-2139, footnote 3)—while taking extraordinary care to skip over the opening number, "Theme from The Last Waltz," which is perhaps the most wretched piece of music in my home. But this album's version of "It Makes No Difference" is a fine performance of a decent song, so I gave that a spin. Here, too, the watchwords were musical and light. As for the former, Richard Manuel's piano and Robbie Robertson's guitar worked together to propel the song and to maintain a solid temporal backbone behind Rick Danko's engagingly rubbery lead vocal; as for the latter, the best aspects of Levon Helm's drumming—his typically rich snare-drum tone and nonbombastic senses of drama and gravitas—were in short supply, replaced with a light-touch sound that contributed little to that propulsion. And the sound of Robertson's guitar—in this performance, he relies heavily on the "false harmonic" technique he learned from Roy Buchanan, in which the thumb of his picking hand lightly damps each note attack—was too light, lacking in substance.
It was time for some vinyl—and time to act on the inspiration I'd been given the previous weekend, when my old friend George Stanwick and I attended a concert by the Hagen Quartet, whose program included Bartók's String Quartet 3. As luck would have it, I'd recently received a superb new vinyl reissue of the Juilliard Quartet's recordings of all six Bartók quartets (3 LPs, Columbia/Speakers Corner D3S 717). (In just a couple of months, the music world will celebrate the 97th birthday of Robert Mann, for over a half century the Juilliard's first violinist—an accomplishment even Keith Richards could envy.)
After experiencing an excess of lightness from CDs and SACDs, I braced myself for similar results from LPs—and was relieved to hear no such thing: perhaps a simple consequence of the fact that the Shindo SPU pickup I was using has a proper, God-fearing spherical stylus, which doesn't lighten or brighten recordings as can other styli. Indeed, the viola that opens Bartók's Quartet 6 sounded rounded and unbright, with fairly good color if an absence of naturally occurring texture. There was decent force behind the many pizzicato notes, and very, very good musical momentum. But the most striking, immediately apparent aspect of the nova300's sound with this selection was its good—in fact, nearly perfect—portrayal of the relative sizes of the four instruments: Wow! And although texture was, again, deficient in comparison to what I hear from this recording through my far more expensive tubed electronics, I was impressed by the way the nova300 communicated how all of the players, especially the violist and the cellist, dug into the scherzo-like third movement, Mesto – Burletta (Moderato), in which plucked notes are even more plentiful and were very realistically portrayed.
Now we were getting somewhere!
Next up was Otto Klemperer's recording of Mahler's Symphony 2, with Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Hilde Rössl-Majdan, and the Philharmonia Orchestra and Chorus (2 LPs, EMI SLS 806). Until the louder climaxes, in which the sound was just a little brash, and except for the nova300's enduring lack of natural texture in its portrayal of stringed instruments, all was quite well. String tone was lovely—in the introductory measures and elsewhere, the upper registers of the cellos and double basses had just the right "throatiness." Momentum and drive—good qualities to have in reserve for such an at-times-energetic performance—were also quite good. And timing, as evident in the tautly precise ensemble playing in the second movement, was exceptional—sufficiently good that I listened all the way through to the end of this long symphony. But by then I'd noticed, with disappointment, that the nova300 was a bit bass-shy in its reproduction of orchestral bass drum and timpani, compared to my Shindo separates. Then again, while there wasn't a lot of bass depth, there was a lot of very enjoyable momentum and thrum from the double basses and harp.
Given that the nova300 supplied more bass momentum—if not ultimate bass extension—through its phono and line stages than through its line stage alone, I began thinking especially highly of said phono section. To confirm this, I switched to an outboard phono preamp—the very recommendable Sentec EQ111—also driven by my Hommage T1 step-up transformer and now feeding the nova300's other line-level input. Listening to a number of selections from Folk Banjo Styles, by Eric Weissberg, Marshall Brickman, et al (LP, Elektra EKL-7217), confirmed that good impression: I preferred the phono stage of the nova300, which transformed Brickman's guitar accompaniment in "Flop-Eared Mule" and "Wildwood Flower" from nothing-special rhythm work to pleasantly nuanced rhythm work, with occasional interesting bass-string runs emerging nicely from the mix.
By the time I'd progressed to the nova300's DAC, I was in even more of a folkie mood; as it happened, "The Way It Goes," from Gillian Welch's The Harrow & the Harvest, (AIFF from CD, Acony ACNY-1109), encapsulated the nova300's musical and sonic signatures: Musical drive was extraordinarily good—overall, the music leaned forward in a manner that was breathtaking, and David Rawlings's solos were no less relentless, with enough nuance and clarity of touch that elements of his technique were easy to hear, especially in solos played as pull-off notes within richly voiced chords. Welch's lead vocal and Rawlings's harmonies were pitch-perfect, clear, and compelling—but here, in the dynamic peaks of the harmony choruses, I also heard that bit of added grain, an artificial texture I also heard in the sibilants of Welch's lead vocal in the same album's "That's the Way the Whole Thing Ends." That last characteristic was minor, though, and didn't detract from my overall enjoyment.
The same mix of qualities was on display in "Search for Peace," from McCoy Tyner's The Real McCoy (AIFF file of unrecorded provenance, Blue Note 84264); some grain was audible in the decays of Elvin Jones's cymbals, though it didn't intrude on the tone of Ron Carter's typically brilliant bass playing—which had lots of timbral color, and walked the line between rhythmically taut and colorfully meaty. Similarly, in Robert Plant and Alison Krauss's recording of Gene Clark's haunting "Polly Come Home," from Raising Sand (AIFF from CD, Rounder 11661-9075-2), the nova300 drew from the 16/44.1 file a compelling performance with fine temporal momentum—no small feat in such a downtempo number. That said, the nova300 provided less bass depth and oomph than I'm used to hearing from the combined double bass and bass drum. "Lonesome Tears," from Beck's Sea Change (DSD64 file of unrecorded provenance, Geffen), was also riveting through the nova300, thanks in part to its pleasantly huge sense of scale.
There being a few albums I keep on both my computer and my phone, I had some opportunities for comparing the nova300's USB-B and USB-A inputs—the latter, again, intended for iOS. Listening to "(Are You) The One That I've Been Waiting For?," from Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds' The Boatman's Call (Mute AIFF file of unrecorded provenance), I heard a number of differences between the two, all in the computer setup's favor: streamed from my iMac, the song was hypnotically compelling, the sounds of the instruments and, to a lesser extent, Cave's voice, more than generous in their scale. Musical and sonic detailing were fine, although, as I had by then come to expect, I heard a bit of grain in the trebles.
Streamed from my iPhone and matched for playback level, the Cave track occupied a considerably smaller soundstage. At first, that seemed offset by what appeared to be more generous bass depth via iOS, but on closer listen was revealed to be a mild midbass boost that made for a more rubbery, less precise portrayal of the electric bass. Detail was still satisfying through the iOS input, the nova300 making a good show of the electric organ's increase in intensity—and the depth of its vibrato effect—toward the end of the third verse and into the middle eight. The iMac/iPhone contrast described above was consistently repeated with other selections, including "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," from The Beatles (AIFF from CD, Apple CDP 7 46443 2). That one was musically enjoyable—excellent momentum, good rhythmic snap—from both sources, although when streamed from my iPhone the soundfield was smaller, and Ringo's hi-hat took on a slightly hashy quality. But from neither input did I hear the bass impact and depth I wished for from Ringo's bass drum and Paul's bass guitar.
Comparisons
Before returning my review sample, I took advantage of the opportunity to compare the nova300 with the sample of the Peachtree iDecco I'd reviewed for the December 2010 issue, and subsequently bought for my daughter's use. Returning to CDs as my source, I tried the recording of Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique by Seiji Ozawa and the Saito Kinen Orchestra, from the boxed set Seiji Ozawa: Anniversary (11 CDs, Decca 478 2358). I've been reading Haruki Murakami's recent book, Absolutely on Music: Conversations with Seiji Ozawa, in which the conductor reminisces about this and his other recordings of this work, and it has compelled me to revisit those of his recordings I own (footnote 4). From the double basses' first, soft plucked notes in the first movement, it was apparent that the old iDecco had better bass extension and weight than the nova300—a promise fulfilled by the bass drum and timpani that open and punctuate the fourth movement. Additionally, there was less treble grain in the sounds of violins and brass through the iDecco, especially in the loudest climaxes, which are in good supply in this piece. I also reauditioned some selections from The Last Waltz through both the iDecco and the nova300. Without question, through the iDecco Rick Danko's electric bass in "It Makes No Difference" had more richness and weight—without penalty of timing distortions or diminution of detail—and slightly less treble grain.
Conclusions
By the end of my time with Peachtree Audio's nova300, I was impressed with its superb overall musicality but remained somewhat ambivalent about its sound, at least one aspect of which—grainy trebles—is associated in the minds of some with class-D amplification in general. But there's no doubting the excellence of its moving-magnet phono stage, and its ability to make musical hay of the files on my phone was also a plus. When the nova300's WiFi board and (potentially) MQA capabilities are made available, a Follow-Up will be very much called for.
Footnote 3: Although the two discs of this edition are nominally multilayer hybrid SACD/CDs, my Sony SACD player recognizes and plays only the "Red Book" CD layers of both discs. Weird. Footnote 4: Albeit with reservations: Ozawa expresses disdain for people with "superb music reproduction equipment, and tons of records," a category that apparently includes Murakami himself. No comment.
Given that the nova300 supplied more bass momentum—if not ultimate bass extension—through its phono and line stages than through its line stage alone, I began thinking especially highly of said phono section. To confirm this, I switched to an outboard phono preamp—the very recommendable Sentec EQ111—also driven by my Hommage T1 step-up transformer and now feeding the nova300's other line-level input. Listening to a number of selections from Folk Banjo Styles, by Eric Weissberg, Marshall Brickman, et al (LP, Elektra EKL-7217), confirmed that good impression: I preferred the phono stage of the nova300, which transformed Brickman's guitar accompaniment in "Flop-Eared Mule" and "Wildwood Flower" from nothing-special rhythm work to pleasantly nuanced rhythm work, with occasional interesting bass-string runs emerging nicely from the mix.
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Before returning my review sample, I took advantage of the opportunity to compare the nova300 with the sample of the Peachtree iDecco I'd reviewed for the December 2010 issue, and subsequently bought for my daughter's use. Returning to CDs as my source, I tried the recording of Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique by Seiji Ozawa and the Saito Kinen Orchestra, from the boxed set Seiji Ozawa: Anniversary (11 CDs, Decca 478 2358). I've been reading Haruki Murakami's recent book, Absolutely on Music: Conversations with Seiji Ozawa, in which the conductor reminisces about this and his other recordings of this work, and it has compelled me to revisit those of his recordings I own (footnote 4). From the double basses' first, soft plucked notes in the first movement, it was apparent that the old iDecco had better bass extension and weight than the nova300—a promise fulfilled by the bass drum and timpani that open and punctuate the fourth movement. Additionally, there was less treble grain in the sounds of violins and brass through the iDecco, especially in the loudest climaxes, which are in good supply in this piece. I also reauditioned some selections from The Last Waltz through both the iDecco and the nova300. Without question, through the iDecco Rick Danko's electric bass in "It Makes No Difference" had more richness and weight—without penalty of timing distortions or diminution of detail—and slightly less treble grain.
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By the end of my time with Peachtree Audio's nova300, I was impressed with its superb overall musicality but remained somewhat ambivalent about its sound, at least one aspect of which—grainy trebles—is associated in the minds of some with class-D amplification in general. But there's no doubting the excellence of its moving-magnet phono stage, and its ability to make musical hay of the files on my phone was also a plus. When the nova300's WiFi board and (potentially) MQA capabilities are made available, a Follow-Up will be very much called for.
Footnote 3: Although the two discs of this edition are nominally multilayer hybrid SACD/CDs, my Sony SACD player recognizes and plays only the "Red Book" CD layers of both discs. Weird. Footnote 4: Albeit with reservations: Ozawa expresses disdain for people with "superb music reproduction equipment, and tons of records," a category that apparently includes Murakami himself. No comment.
