Stand Loudspeaker Reviews

Stemming from the foundation of Kondo Audio Note of Japan, Peter Qvortrup's Audio Note UK is, for many, a custodian of the definitive audio heritage. The debut of each Audio Note piece sparks obsession among adherents—ardor that outstrips mere fandom.

The story goes that starting in 1962, Malcolm Jones was KEF's "first employee," where he "did most of the design and development of the legendary KEF drive units—the B139, B200, B110, T15, T27—and the systems in which they were incorporated. Malcolm left KEF in 1974, having just completed the Reference Series 104 system and work on an active professional monitor to work full time at Falcon Acoustics Ltd."

Fast-forward a few years. I bought my first BBC LS3/5a in 1980. It was a Falcon Acoustics kit I saw advertised in the back of Speaker Builder magazine. Fingers crossed, I sent a postal money order in a thin Air Mail envelope to what I imagined was a garden shed in England. But of course it wasn't.

The usual Specifications sidebar in this review is a nuts-and-bolts listing of the electrical and physical properties of the Technics SC-CX700 loudspeaker ($2999.99/pair), who made it and where, and a widely varying amount of information about its electrical and acoustical performance. The information comes from the included literature, available downloads, and whatever I could find on the manufacturer's website.

Note the complete absence of the usual technical information about the design or construction of the coaxial driver or about the crossover frequency and slope. Missing, too, are performance specifications for frequency response, sound-pressure level, and distortion. That disappoints me because I like numbers, but all the really interesting stuff about these speakers—though expressed without as many numbers as I'd wish—can be found on the Technics website. These include: what Technics calls "Acoustic Solitude Construction," which isolates the electronics from the loudspeakers structurally and spatially; "Model Based Diaphragm Control," which adjusts diaphragm movement in real time; and "Space Tune," which includes four acoustical presets and two levels of measurement-based room correction.

Let's get this out of the way: The BMR Monitor may be a monitor, but it isn't a bookshelf or desktop speaker any more than a yacht is a dinghy. Heave a slick-surfaced, 32lb BMR from its shipping carton, then wrap your arms around its svelte figure, with its fancy array of drivers and rich-colored piano-lacquer finish, and you'll understand this speaker deserves better than to be tucked away amid books or flanking a computer screen.

I was so enamored by the look of the BMR Monitor, I initially thought its name didn't do it justice. It sounded too nondescript. But with time and growing familiarity, I came to find the BMR moniker fitting—dare I say sleekly masculine sounding, like a phonetic cross between "Bimmer" and a wolf growl. The BMR Monitor—there's also a BMR Tower—is so named for its midrange driver—a Balanced Mode Radiator. We don't come across many of these in our hobby, but it's not new: The technology was invented in 1925.

"Paul Klipsch was a genius," Roy Delgado told me recently, with the sound of genuine amazement in his voice. "Me, I'm just a tinkerer." I've spoken to Delgado, Klipsch's chief audio engineer, a handful of times over the past few years and find him affable, plainspoken, and almost absurdly humble. His LinkedIn page describes him simply as "engineer at Klipsch." His bio on the Klipsch Museum website lists his interests as "a closer relationship with God [and] the pursuit of the ever-elusive largemouth bass." To be sure, Delgado holds several patents, has an intimidating grasp of loudspeaker design, and is anything but a tinkerer. But it was still weird to see him—dressed in the T-shirt, light jeans, and work boots of an Arkansas fishing enthusiast—at the Nine Orchard Hotel during last year's New York Fashion Week.

We were there for the launch of a loudspeaker, a collaboration between the Little Rock–based Klipsch Group and Ojas, the nom de solder of artist and designer Devon Turnbull.

I remember the first PS Audio product: a simple phono stage. It was so simple—a passive RIAA EQ filter flanked by a pair of primitive op-amps—that when the schematic was made public, I built one myself; I was in the midst of my DIY years. I thought it was, to use a word from that time, nifty. Paul McGowan went on to other things and other companies, eventually reviving PS Audio and building it into its present form with a wide range of interesting and substantive products. Most recently, PS Audio added a line of loudspeakers inspired by Paul's erstwhile partner in other ventures, the late Arnie Nudell.

The PS Audio Aspen speaker line has four models, three 3-way floorstanders (FR30, FR20, FR10) and a single two-way standmount (the FR5, $3499/pair).

Hi-fi's vintage-tech revival feels like a Don Draper fever dream. You know Draper, right? The smooth-talking ad man from Mad Men? In one episode, he pitches a new Kodak slide projector, but instead of focusing on the science and the specs, he calls it a "carousel"—think bouncing painted horses—and says it will take people back to a simpler time.

For its early-'60s moment, that slide projector is high-tech—and "technology is a glittering lure," Draper tells the assembled group of cigarette-smoking suits around a conference room table. Draper mentions Teddy, a Greek former colleague Draper says taught him the ropes years ago. Teddy says that "new" is the most important idea in advertising, but he also talks about a deeper bond that can sometimes be established with a product. "Nostalgia. It's delicate, but potent."