Written by: Auricauricle
The box was delivered with a sudden bump that made both my wife and me jump from our seats, where we sat enjoying a pleasant late-morning breakfast. “What was that?” she asked in alarm. As I gazed through the window, I saw the familiar shadow of my neighbor, Fred, as he skulked down the steps to our porch. “It’s Fred,” I replied. “He’s dropped off a box”.

It is a common enough occurrence around this place that the matter scarcely aroused any attention or comment: boxes and parcels are often brought to our door during the day. My wife orders nearly everything, from shoes to bread, and the fairly large box that Fred brought to the porch was quickly ignored. I sighed with some relief knowing this, for in fact I knew that in the box was neither shoes nor bread, but another piece of electronics hardware for the stereo. Recently, as cash has been made more available, the urge to splurge now and then has presented itself, and now the cabinet is now quite full. My wife, happily, loves music as much as I do; but she is not an “audiophile”, and as I thought about her reaction to the piece and the ultimatum that would finally be delivered, I drank my coffee and planned my next move.

I decided that the best tactic was to come clean. After telling her, I steeled myself for the questions that followed. Well, you can imagine them. At length, the gorilla in the room was finally released: “Why buy a CD player when you have a DVD player that plays CD’s just as easily?”

Why, indeed? Like many here, I was introduced to the digital era at the beginning. CD technology was, at the start, a rather high-tech medium that appealed to the few who were able to afford it and the fewer who were aware of its existence. In short time, nearly everyone was “in on” the CD craze, and thousands of titles flooded into the record stores in profusion. With the increased demand, CD manufacturing firms like Sony produced players to accommodate the dictates of the marketplace. Just about anyone could afford a player, a situation that was great for consumers but spelled disaster to audiophiles who were beginning to view the situation with a familiar sense of vague dread.

Often, discussions among the audiophiles about the CD medium were centered around the sonic quality of the format. While few disputed the CD’s superior dynamic range, its hardiness and its potential to reproduce music faithfully, some audiophiles doubted CD’s ability to reproduce music with the same warmth and vitality that many hours of keen LP listening had provided. Many such critics were the high-end audiophiles, who had cut their musical teeth on turntables such as the Linn and the Sota. They knew and know good sound when they hear it, and to their ears, the laser driven vehicle was described as harsh, sterile and glaring.

Canny CD manufacturing firms like Telarc and Loiseau Lyre seemed to have had a preternatural understanding of these arguments and released CD’s that convinced many audiophiles that, while the CD format was prey to such troubles, the format could meet the challenge. The recordings of Shaw for Telarc and Hogwood for Loiseau Lyre, and many others satisfied many that the CD was quite capable, but not everyone was impressed. Other firms, like EG, Arkiv and Philips were quick to push their recordings out, and their products sound very good even to today’s standards. For the huddled masses, Columbia, CBS, Sony, MCA and others were more than content to push the conventional faire, and the consumers who snapped the discs up were more than happy to dole out the extra bucks for the “cherry” recording of “Dark Side of the Moon”.

In time, the CD player was upgraded. Not at all happy with the sound of widely available players manufactured by Sony, Yamaha, Denon, etc., audiophiles still needed to be convinced that the digital format could reproduce music to meet their exquisitely high standards. In time, boutique brands made their way into the listening parlors and studios; and companies like Meridian, Naim and California Audio Labs (CAL) released their own players to meet the demands of the holdouts. Increased resolution and other features came with a high price tag, but there were enough audiophiles to justify the market and Meridian, Naim and CAL happily met the challenge.

Except for the knowing cognoscenti, most folks are quite unaware of companies like Naim, Meridian, CAL or Wadia. Instead, Sony, Yamaha, Marantz and Denon dominate the shelves of the box stores where most people go for their stereo equipment. To them, and to my wife, the prospect of spending $1400.00 (or much more!) on a player when another costing $200.00 that “sounds just as good” is a ridiculous prospect or a frivolous thing only hard-core music buffs are capable of. It is this backdrop and background that my wife’s canny skepticism emanated when the CD player was withdrawn from the box that morning and I, knowing not how to explain my rationale in less than a minute, kept my mouth shut except to say that it was well within budget and that it was worth it to me.

The CAL Tercet was released in 1991, about 6 years or so after the introduction of the CD player, which makes the machine quite old technology-wise. Upon its release, the CAL Tercet MK II, as it is called, cost around $1400.00—quite expensive then as it is even now. I was not able to afford it then, but two weeks ago this machine was made available for $200.00, and I snapped it up like a trout.

The CAL Tercet is a heavy machine; belying photos I have seen of it that seemed to depict a rather sleek and not so pretty plastic job that is so commonplace, nowadays. The CAL is no such thing. It is encased in heavy metal armor, and is, actually, quite pretty to look at. The glowing display is a beautiful, cool, lime green. The buttons are very solidly manufactured, and depress with a satisfying sturdiness that is not akin at all to the cheap buttons and knobs that are found on most mainstream units. The buttons—in addition to the ones to stop, play, pause, open, and advance track–correspond to quite a few things the Tercet is capable of, including programming the player to accommodate cassette recording. I won’t go over these matters here. On the rear are two output RCA plugs. There is no digital output—I believe a Tercet MK IV and the similarly styled IKON made this available. Like the buttons on the front, the RCA jacks are quite hardy and ready for business.

The first order of business in getting the CAL set up was a small but significant matter that many a audiophiles here are all too familiar with: the disengagement of the “locking mechanism”. To those of you who have read my previous remarks, I apologize for repeating this matter; but it bears mention here, nevertheless. Many players have this device, located on the bottom of the player, which corresponds to releasing the laser with is kept protected from the various jars and jolts that may knock it out of alignment while the unit is in transit. It’s a small matter of pulling the spring-loaded knob down to re-engage the laser and get things started. Until I figured it out, I spent not a few hours wondering why the player was reluctant to accept my CD’s. Not a couple of times, I actually held the door shut—gently—when the disc was introduced. While the machine processed the discs, it failed to play them. Only when the “locking pin” was pulled out did it finally settle down to the business at hand. (Thank you, thank you! Please, no autographs!)

Almost as soon as the first disc was introduced did I notice a clear and palpable difference between the CAL and the machine that I had been using previously, a Marantz DV6200. Doing double duty as a DVD/CD player, Marantz is a capable and solid performer, playing discs with very good fidelity that is not unpleasing. In contrast, the CAL is dedicated only to playing CD’s, and it is to that task that the CAL excelled. While the Marantz player is a well manufactured player, the CD tray is of the thin, plastic variety. Discs are placed upon the tray and brought into the player with a slight “snick” that is nearly inconsequential. Conversely, the CAL drawer is a heavy thing—there is some plastic yes, but also metal—and when discs are brought into the player the door snaps shut with a formidable “thunk” that is very consequential: much like sealing up a tomb. I should have realized, even then, that even such a matter as the disc drawer was an overture to a performance that was very impressive, indeed.

The stereo was set up in as straight forward a way as I could provide. The equalizers were disengaged, and treble and bass knobs were clocked to zero position. The first disc I put on was Freddie Hubbard’s “First Light”, a disc that I have played hundreds of times before. At the start, I noticed the presence of a darkness that I have seldom heard before, except in high-end salons in Tokyo and New York. This darkness is quite palpable and is well-known to listeners who know from whence I speak—I won’t dwell on this now, but let it suffice to say that it was very noticeable,very heavy, and loomed like a cloud in my living room. As Hubbard began to play, I was struck by the sound of the trumpet, which had somehow transformed into a live thing. Hubbard’s dexterity was quite evident, as it ever was, but, now, so was his fluidity and breath control. The sound was rich and round, characteristics that some musicians have derided the trumpet for lacking—and the brass bell of the horn spoke with an authority and assuredness that I have scarcely heard before. As I listened I could here the familiar sound of his lips kissing the mouthpeice. While the orchestra played, nearly all of the instruments could be discerned in their respective places. Woodwind instruments such as flutes, clarinets and oboes were likewise reproduced in airy and reedy aplomb. While players such as the Marantz have played these instruments well, the CAL captured an essence of these instruments that was far and away much more absorbing to listen to. As I listened, it occurred to me that the clarinets and oboes are wooden instruments that transmit breath; although I know this fact, this fundamental thing had not struck me the way it did now, and I listened for more. As the percussion was played, the sound of the sticks snapped; triangles shimmered and faded, woodblocks knocked quietly in wooden tones that were clear and succinct and not at all anonymous.

The next disc was Alan Parsons’ “Tales of Mystery and Imagination”, a tribute to the works of Edgar Allen Poe. I started the listen with the song, “(The System of) Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether” and played the disc to its end. Again, the silence behind the instruments was clearly palpable, but oh, the music! “Doctor Tar and Professor Fether” is a strong piece of music, introduced by a tightly punctuated chord. In turn, as the bass viol and drum lines were reproduced, I heard seldom-noticed immediacy and crispness that were quite amazing to hear. Vocals were smooth, unstrained, but ever lusty. Again, as in the Hubbard however, was the placement of instruments, which could beard through a wide and expansive stage. Each instrument, it seemed, could be located within a clearly discerned area; it was easy to focus on that instrument alone or in concert with the others. Following this number was Parson’s “The Fall of the House of Usher”, a five-part suite that opens with the low hum of an ominous note that is followed by the narration of Orson Wells’. As the orchestra proceeds, through a conversation composed, in part of oboe and flute solos, the adventure unfolds. “The Fall” is a truly mesmerizing tale, and Alan Parsons’ depiction of the wanderer’s journey is similarly beguiling. The CAL reproduced the piece with no strain or edge, keeping the music cohesive, clear and tight. “The Fall”’s fourth movement, “Pavane” is a piece that culminates in a climactic moment that is quite startling to hear. As the orchestra winds up, with the violins in deafening crescendo and kettledrums banging merrily away—seemingly on Death’s Door—the soundscape abruptly stops. All quiet. It was here that the CAL punctuated the silent moment with a resounding and ominous silence. Only after the music continued, now quieter and in a different key, did I regain my composure.

On Tangerine Dream’s “Force Majeure”, Klaus Krieger’s drums were crisp and fluid. I could really sense that the drums were actually played with sticks on skin, something that I really never gave much thought to before. In similar form, familar sounding synth-work of Edgar Froese and Chris Franke became much more interesting and viceral. TD’s synths often sound quite electronic and alien sounding, but now they were quite organic, dare I say analogue, reminding me of their early moog-work. This same uncanny occurrence was also noted when I played TD’s Pergammon, which also features a very lengthy guitar solo, which the CAL played warm and liquid throughout the performance. This last disc should be especially noted, for it is one that has, at various times been subjected to some physical abuse through the years. While the Marantz has managed to play this disc, it has only done so reluctantly and with some attendant skips and omissions. Not so the CAL. It played the disc all the way through–warts and all–with nary a hitch, with detail and in perfect, unblemished form. Try that in another player!

On playback of V. Horowitz’s 1978 performance of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto no.3 with Ormandy and the New York Phiharmonic (RCA), the piano is crisp and strong. Horowitz’s fingers are all over the place, and the performance is assuredly robust. The CAL never lost its focus, and every note was given its voice in crisp and distinct form. Admittedly, the disc is representative of RCA’s “High Performance” line of discs which uses 24/96 technology; it was, very nicely reorded and the Philharmonic and Horowitz are presented here in full bloom. Decay of the piano was arrestingly realistic: I could even clearly hear the strings of the magnificent instrument as the notes were played, something I have only seldom descried. Pedal tones were giant, sonorous things that thundered as Horowitz bore down on the piano with terrifying ferocity and agile speed.

For sampling of vocals, the CAL was taken through its paces with a variety of discs. I can say with absolute conviction that this player is perhaps one of the best ones I have ever heard. Vocals were produced in all their finery and imperfect splendor. Whether it was the bell-like clarity of Cecilia Bartoli’s supple, honeyed voice or the fluid-creak clip of Roger Waters singing “The Tide is Changing”, the CAL brought a rarely heard humanity back into the recording that is so often lacking with most players. Likewise stunning was playback of Sevara Nazarkhan, whose supple Uzbek voice was played with a hushed and immediate breathiness that was never a bore to listen to.

But it is CAL’s staging of sound, which is quite wide, that really sets this player apart from all others I have listened to. With the Tercet it is possible to listen to performances with attention focused on single instruments, if one so desires to. The CAL’s uncanny ability to do this has opened my ears to things I have only heard absent-mindedly. At the risk of using a cliche, I would not hesitate to say that, in some respects, I am now listening to much familiar music for the first time.

In a similar sense, the CAL is a wonderful instrument for headphone users. The Tercet produces a prodigiously immense sound that is downright scary. As an example, let one describe his head as the face of a clock, with 12:00 located at the forehead, with 3:00 and 9:00 at the ears. With this in mind, the music covered a wide expanse, extending the listening to well beyond 3:00 and 9:00 to 7:00 and 5:00. This is where the CAL really showed its mettle, presenting all artists in a wide array and with tight, solid dynamics that was nothing short of astonishing.

I have used the word dark to describe much of what I have heard—for those of you who know what I mean, you will understand—for those of you who don’t know, I adjure you to keep your ears in preparation, for this is, Oh Best Beloved, where the music truly is. Small ensembles as well as large orchestras are reproduced with great and simple fidelity on this player, which shows no sign of force nor strain and is never boring to listen to. I found myself pulling out many discs, listening, it seemed, as though for the first time—yeah, it was that good.

The CAL Tercet MK III is a player of great distinction and is a must-audition for those interested in acquiring a used high-end CD player for a reasonable price. At around $1400.00 when it first came out, the CAL was not a player for everyone. Now as years have passed, so too has the price of the unit which can be found in various sites through the Internet, at prices that are quite within reach. For those audiophiles who are tightly leashed to a budget, are not ready to enter the SACD arena, this is a really, really good deal. Simply put, this instrument was built to last and the sound will keep you happy for a very long time! It is that good. Period.

Oh, and better yet: you don’t have to hide the box!

California Audio Labs (CAL) is not out of business, but you can see products a read reviews on CAL components at the manufacturer site on audioREIVEW. Who knows, maybe you’ll be able to pick up a hell of a deal at a thrift shop or else where on something still awesome but not longer in demand.

The current SACD debate is a stimulating one and I, having read your respective posts, would not like to slip through the scene acquiescently. As one who has never listened to SACD, I cannot make a very informed argument for or against the format. I have no doubt that proponents of the medium are very much enamored with it. Conversely, I have little disregard for detractors of SACD, who having listened to them first hand observed little or no sonic advantage. In describing my own observations, I can only appeal to the CD format that I know intimately and listen to with ardent fondness. Having been introduced to digital music in its heyday, I am quite acquainted with its sonic quality and the various limitations and constraints that accompany it.

In my listening experience, the goal was always to play the material in as pure a fashion as possible. When I was growing up, my father own(ed) a fairly decent collection of LP’s (and a few 8-track tapes, at one time—I won’t mention them again), which were played on a BSR turntable, a nondescript receiver and rather modest speakers. Having friends who extolled the virtues of larger speakers and amplifiers increased my awareness of “good sound”, so that I early became aware of the need to tweak, fiddle and clean the needles and records to ensure that my ears would perceive the best sound possible. Clicks and pops and squeaks were annoying, but with a little work they could be minimized. With a little work, the music I listened to could bloom to its full (as full as it could be on such humble gear) extent.

In 1981, I joined the Navy and bought a Sony Walkman. I was introduced to the compact wonder a year or two earlier when a well-to-do aunt bought one for my uncle. Cassettes were, for me, a solution of sorts to the limitations of the venerable LP. Surface noise was virtually eliminated, and I could listen to my beloved Pink Floyd and Beethoven in all its pristine glory. I collected a very large number of cassettes at the time. In due fashion I became increasingly aware of tape-hiss. While Dolby noise reduction dealt with the matter somewhat handily, it became increasingly apparent that it did so in detriment to dynamic range and over all playback quality. After experimenting with a number of various portable tape players, I found what I considered the best of the lot (an Infinity!) and rested content that things were as good as they could get.

In 1984, Sony’s 501ES CD player was rolled out onto the floor of the local Navy Exchange, a CD player that was the first I owned. CD’s represented the epitome of playback performance. No surface noise, no hiss, just music. Of course, this is not always true, as CD’s will only reproduce the medium recorded. Music recorded in the 1920’s—such as the early piano works of Rudolph Serkin—are dreadful. While the recordings are certainly noteworthy for their historical value, they are certainly not practical for exemplifying the sonic capabilities of the medium. On the other hand, digital recording when properly and deftly applied is a fantastic achievement. With enough care and work, recordings of great clarity can be wrought, a fact that has resulted in recent-year recordings that are among the best sonic offerings ever made.

I still continue to tweak, however. A look at my list of gear will betray my penchant that is exemplified by the presence of two equalizers—one parametric the other graphic—that are regularly deployed. In the past, other devices have been used, including noise reduction units and dynamic range expanders made by dbx and meticulous regard to cassette manufacturers that culminated in the acquisition of cassette decks made by Nakamichi and Tandberg. I have owned Yamaha’s esteemed M2 amplifier and her venerable sister the C2a preamplifier: exeplary models in good stead of mid-fi solid state. Likewise, I have taken the tube road, at one time owing and enjoying very much a previously owned Harmon Kardon Citation 5 amplifier and Conrad Johnson PV5 preamplifier (I still miss them!). I have also enjoyed a few nice turntables, one that I still own but do not presently use. The arm is quite ornate and intricate, and I will enjoy using it when the time comes. Likewise, I owned a Meridian CD player and matching DAC. With three separate boxes, the player her court drove me to raptures. All of these devices contained in them the capability of being tweaked, a hobby that gives me tireless aggravation and tireless fun, for that, friends, is the nature of the hobby we have adopted. I describe these acquisitions not to brag or to impress, but as examples and standards that have informed present and future purchases and my appreciation of them.

Yes, we enjoy good music, but we enjoy good equipment, which is, after all, what brings us here, today. With my DVD player churning out my beloved Dvorak, I am content that the sound I listen to is quite glorious. Sure, I realize that the experience can be improved upon for, as mentioned, I have listened to and have owned systems far more expensive than my own or own presently. Perhaps it is the result of my isolative existence that compels me to this complacent state, for I am—as you know– a poor student; but I am content that the sound I enjoy at the present is immensely satisfying.

When SACD players came out, I was aware of their presence, but I was quite unable to indulge the extravagance of owning one. SACD players were not cheap and I contented myself that digital recordings could not be improved upon. Of course I realize that this argument is fallacious, for any fool knows that no system is perfect and that workmanship and technology will always find ways of perfecting the wheel, but I was convinced that I could be quite happy with what I owned nevertheless. Today, SACD players are within my grasp, but without sufficient capacity to compare them properly, I wonder, is it really worth it?

The discussion before us is one that is reminiscent of the newest battle to come before the AV community: Blue Ray versus DVD. While adherents to Blue Ray are impressed and awed over Blue Ray’s unsurpassed sonic and visual presentation, stalwart DVD fans are satisfied that the medium they enjoy is good enough. Again, I have never seen a Blue Ray disc compared to a DVD; so making any assumptions about Blue Ray’s comparison to DVD is not possible. As a DVD owner, however, I am very impressed with what I have. The other night, I watched for the first time Batman: The Dark Night. Believe me when I tell you that the sounds and images that found purchase upon my poor brain still have me reeling in ecstasy.

To be more concrete and less fanciful, it is important for we listeners and viewers to remember that the goal of all of these amplifiers, disc players and equalizers is not the production of music but the re-production of music. To this end, while such equipment is tasked with this re-production it does so to approximate the original source. In the posts that I have read here and elsewhere, this distinction seems to be overlooked, thus presenting an inherent flaw or fallacy in Hi-Fi discussions that should be dealt with.

In questing for great sound, manufacturers and users have sought to obtain the purest of sound (and vision), a goal that while useful as a benchmark to strive for ought not necessarily be an end to itself. To describe the matter using a sonic example, does one really want a preamplifier or a disc player that emits or resolves every single ounce of timbre from an instrument? Can it do so? While the pursuit of such a goal is noteworthy, I would hazard to say, ultimately, that if we were to have before us the ability to do so we would be so overcome by the details of the music that we would soon lose our sense of the music itself. I like the creaking of an old bass violin or the squeaking of a guitar as much as anyone reading this, but in the end it is not these characteristics of the music that I listen for, but the entire thing: the creaking, the squeaking and the composition. Visually, it is the same thing. Do I really want to see pimples on Angelie Jolie’s back? No, and doubt you do either. While such details are certainly realistic, in that they are certainly present, one doesn’t watch movies to enjoy pimples, but rather the Gestalt that encapsulates the entire scenic landscape as a whole.

In our every-day dealing with our environments and daily intercourse with our friends and relations, such details blend into incoherence, leaving our brains poised to appreciate the “big picture”, not the details. I venture then, to pose that SACD and Blue-Ray, while capable of capturing the details does so at some expense. For us movie goers who like the sound of explosions and grinding sounds all around us, we must remember that in real life, sound is much more complicated. Imagine an explosion occurring before you. Where does the sound come from? In front of you. Now notice it echoing around you and behind you. This also happenes in music performance. First, there is a stage; the ambience is secondary. Insisting on having all of this information in the foreground is just not realistic. When a friend of mine introduced me to surround sound in 1984, he told me that the rear speakers needed to be well near invisible. Somehow, this point has become lost and SACD users and proponents of surround sound have forgotten that the goal is not presence but ambience.

To underscore this point, I turn to the Impressionists Monet, Cezanne and Delacroix to give us audiophiles a chance to glimpse this pursuit a little clearer (!). Impressionism sought to capture the spontaneity of the moment in art, very much as our instruments seek to reproduce in fleeting instances and essences of a musician’s repertoire. While Realist painters sought to capture every sinew of the image they saw, and did so with breathtaking and heartbreaking effect, Impressionists knew that much of what we see is observed only in transient glances. It may be rightfully said that the images are oftentimes smeary and more akin to astigmatism or of one in the throes of an LSD-induced hallucination, but that that is not the point. In taking in the sum of experience and presenting it in fragments of color and nuance, the Impressionists caught an elusiveness that far eluded the realists, whose realistically rendered works were beautiful, clear and static.

So it is, I guess, with SACD and Blue-Ray players. While these instruments resolve their subject with great detail, they do so at the peril of their users who in seeking sonic and visual perfection may well lose sight of the objects of their adoration. There are times I myself lose this joy, when instead of sitting back and enjoying the music, become aware that this knob was not used or that line was not secured. In doing so, I became aware not of the music, but details that activated my critical ears but sealed off my music-loving ears. In time and practice, I have and am practicing, the art of just sitting back to enjoy the music. It may be well argued that SACD and Blue-Ray players will likewise be regarded with the same inconsequential insouciance that I speak of; but while novelty is fresh, users will remain smitten by the details. Yes, there are times when even these Golden Ears are reminded that while they are gold, they are not 24-carat gold!

I return, thus, to solitude. With few friends who take up this hobby as seriously as you, the possibility of comparing the various media, be they Blue Ray or SACD, are quite limited. This is a decided advantage that has dissuaded me from emptying my pockets the way I did while serving in the USN, when Stereo Wars among us shipmates had us scurrying here and there to Tokyo and beyond in search of the best equipment our paychecks could afford. Without the ability to compare, I have lost some sense of perspective. I have not entirely lost my sense of musical sensitivity, however, for I have played musical instruments (trumpet, French horn, piano) and have attended many concerts (Tokyo, New York). In doing so, I know well the airy blat of a trumpet, the schmack of the snare drum and the wine-gulped flavor a contralto. When the time comes, I will indulge my hobby further, letting my Sherwood Receiver rest alongside components of higher esteem and capability. In the meantime, Lady Sherwood sings sweetly enough for my impoverished yet grateful ears.

In due time, I will eventually get around to auditioning an SACD or Blue-Ray player, bringing the player into my living room to do so and giving the player a chance to be compared side by side my humble DVD player in an impartial and disinterested appraisal. In the meantime, I am conent that the engineers and technicians at Deutsche Grammophone, BIS, Arkiv and the rest will continue their hard work at ensuring that the recordings they produce are exemplary of the performances they tape. Likewise I will trust the musicians at the Vienna Philharmonic, the Academy at Saint Martin in the Fields and the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra to continue honing their craft. I will likewise make appraisals of the amazing fruits promised by the Blue-Ray manufacturers. When those days come I will, if you permit me to do so, print my thoughts and reflections with as unbiased and candid purpose as I am capable.

In the meantime, I shall tweak on, happy and content that Old Ludwig and Meister Serkin have descended from their lofty perches and into my living room where I listen enraptured and grateful!

Auricauricle is a very active audioreview.com forum user and has been publishing blogs since late ’09. Due to the current SACD post found here, this is worth repeating.

First published: Monday, December 29, 2008

With the exception of Robert Moog and Leon Theremin, perhaps, many of the names associated with the innovation and development of electronic music have slipped into obscurity. Sad too is the collective anonymity celebrating the memory of the early composers and performers for the electronic medium. Invoke the names Ussachevsky and Leuning and one is apt to not a knowing smile, but a glower of fathomless perplexity. Except for the notable, ardent few admirers, these names have all but faded from view: too bad, for their contribution to twentieth century music is incalculable; too bad for us, who listen oblivious to music unaware of the contributions of these and others, whose work made so much that is commonplace today possible.

Except for National Public Radio’s (NPR) Echoes, a program that airs electronic music nightly, there are few occasions for new electronic music listeners to give an ear to the compositions wrought on such instruments. Part of this is due, sadly, to the widely scorned image of such contraptions, which have been variously described as buzzing, cacaphonous sounding devices, capable only of producing eerie sound effects and perhaps a few intelligible notes. The other side to this despondent coin is found in the ubiquity of such instruments–synthesized keyboards mostly–which have become such a vital voice that they have all but disappeared altogether.

People who listen and have listened to electronic music will reject the first assertion without hesitation. They will gladly tell you that, even within the past forty-odd years, electronic instruments have become much more refined and are capable of presenting a multitude of sounds, or voices, of great, affective beauty. While many compositions written for such instruments truly is of an ethereal and other worldly quality, many other works are quite familiar in their tone; quite terrrestrial, indeed.

Consider, for example, the oeuvre of Wendy (Walter) Carlos. In 1968, Carlos released the seminal album, Switched on Bach, an homage to the great composer performed on Robert Moog’s synthesizer. The music was quite unlike anything many listeners had ever heard before, performed as it was on an electronic behemoth whose presence was anything but familiar. But listen to it again! Despite the strange, electronic emanations produced by the instrument, there is an unmistakable sense that in spite of that, the instruments for which Old Bach had written are pretty admirably presented. Consider again that that work came out in 1968….Well, you get the idea.  Among admirers of early electronic music, Switched on Bach is a favorite, and for good reason. Considering the impact the work had on introducing Robert Moog’s device and its encouragement of further development of the instrument, Switched on Bach is a classic in every sense of the term.

Forty one years past 1968, and the design and craftsmanship of synthesizers has resulted in folks getting a lot more out of the instrument than people like Carlos and Moog were, doubtless, able to presage. In Germany, Edgar Froese and his freunden were hard at work, experimenting with pre-recorded tapes and playing strange and wonderful music to back it up. Their group, Tangerine Dream, was eventually signed on to Richard Branson’s fledgling Virgin Records label, and the album Phaedra handily climbed the billboard charts with nearly the same brisk vitality of Branson’s other star artist, Great Britain’s Michael Oldfield’s Tubular Bells. With encouragement from the success of Phaedra and its follow-up album, Rubicon, it wasn’t long before Tangerine Dream was approached to compose music for film. It was William Friedkin, of Exorcist fame, who approached the Berliners, and they produced an album, Sorcerer, in splendid style. Since then, Tangerine Dream has shown little sign of slowing down. Although many personnel have joined and left the band, they have produced a staggering number of albums. As their sound has evolved, so has their contribution to electronic music, and Froese and his mates have consulted with many electronic instrument makers, like Roland, in the development of many of the instruments that are used today.

Another German composer who should be noted is Klaus Schulze, a former Tangerine Dream member who went solo shortly after his departure from the group. Schulze’s works are amazingly erudite and fertile numbers of great atmosphere and presence. Many works incorporates traditional instruments that are woven within the music in seamless and intricate tapestry. Listen to the album, Trancefer, to get the idea. Another Tangerine Émigré is Chritopher Franke, who left Froese after contributing much to TD’s signature eeriness, including work on the soundtrack to the Michael Mann movie, Thief and the Star Tek spin-off, Babylon 5. Other members like Johannes Schmoelling and Peter Bauman and the drummer Klaus Krieger all contributed their hand to this amazing and prolific Krautrock band.

In many ways, the British championed electronic music, and happily brought the enormous bundles of wires and plugs to the stage. Names like Rick Wakeman, Keith Emerson, Richard Wright and dozens others  wowed audiences who were more than happy to light up and trip out to the music these wizards produced. Emerson’s virtuoso performances with Emerson Lake and Palmer floored fans with his dept prowess in performances of moog-drenched renditions of Copeland, Mussorgsky and others. Wright, on the other hand showed that keyboard synthesizers were not only of interest to psychedlic  music fans–of which he was more than happy to oblige–but fans who were interested in something more contemporary.  Wright’s super-sonic finger work on albums like Dark Side of the Moon and Wish You Were Here are truly terriffic performances that are ardently listened to today. Meanwhile, on the other side of the spectrum were glam artists, like David Bowie and Brain Eno, who were producing soundscapes of their own chord. Their compositions opened many doors of possibility and showcased the synthesizer as a truly, ambient instrument that could handily stand on its own feet. Eno’s work with Roxy Music, Bowie, Robert Fripp and his solo career have all added amazing color to the British kaleidoscope. Still, in other milieus, Jeff Lynne and the Electric Light Orchestra dazzled erstwhile classical music listeners to their own form of pop music. Paying due respect to the masters, the ELO appealed to thousands of adoring fans with hits like Mr. Blue Sky, Living Thing and the album Eldorado.

Special note should go to the works of Michael Oldfield, who at about nineteen years old produced the monster album, Tubular Bells, whose (in)famous leitmotif was famously adopted by the producers of the movie, The Exorcist. Oldfield was well known even before that album, having been snapped up by Soft Machine’s Keven Ayers, who liked Oldfield’s bass picking. Since Tubular Bells, Oldfield has produced around 25 or so albums and soundtracks, nearly one a year since 1973, producing beautifully rendered vistas of sound in doing so. Oldfield plays many instruments, and his albums are testament not only to his ability as a composer, but as a rare performer whose sensitivity and canny knowing references have been widely noted by many smart people, including Arthur Clarke, whose Songs of Distant Earth was adapted by Oldfield in an album of the same name.

On the other side of the world, the Japanese artist Isao Tomita took to the synthesizer and created an album that showed listeners that electronic versions of classical were still relevant and quite commercially viable. His first album, Snowflakes Are Dancing, is an incredibly trippy but musical exploration of the works of Debussy. Since that album, dozens of others have emerged from Tomita’s murky collective, Plasma Music, including homage to Holst, Groffe, Stravinsky, Prokofiev and Mussorgsky.

In France, the synthesizer entranced the artist Jean Michel Jarre, son of world-famous film composer, Maurice. After studies at the Lycee, Jean Michel was soon creating his own music after being encouraged to produce sounds from a variety of electronic sources. His albums Oxygene and Equinoxe are still favorites of many adoring fans. Another French composer of no little note was Jean Luc Ponty, a violinist of amazing ability and proficiency. His jazzy performances on albums like Enigmatic Ocean have caught the ear of many keen-eared admirers, like Elton John, who used him in one or two albums of their own.

In Italy, electronic music composition was championed by groups like Milan’s Premiata Forneria Marconi, whose progressive contributions were proof positive that their competitors, such as England’s King Crimson were not the kings of the mountain. Albums such as The World Became the World are still terriffic and awful–true musts for any fan of the genre.  To many people, associations of Italian electronic music conjure the likes of Georgio Moroder, whose driving beat and erotically pulsing throbs were the darlings of the disco era. Moroder’s artistic sensibility is quite formidiable, however; his musical versatility noted by Paul Schraeder, who employed Moroder to score his 1982 hit movie, Cat People. Other works in Midnight Express and Scarface are noteworthy scores that belie the talent that was scarcely noted on the dance floor, where Donna Summer reigned supreme.

In Greece, the creation of electronic music was of keen interest to the piano prodigy who soon would simply be known by the name, Vangelis. Vangelis, a keen pianist of rare and brilliant artistry, soon went solo after embarking in his career with the band, Aphrodite’s Child. Best known for his soundtracks to films like Blade Runner and Chariots of Fire, Vangelis’ music has been widely heard on numerous television advertisements and on Public Television, where a portion of his album Heaven and Hell (which featured Yes’ Jon Anderson) was used as the theme to Carl Sagan’s Cosmos.

In America, the use of synthesized and electronic music was widely used and the patheon of innovators and inventers is encyclopedic. Mention has already been made of Wendy (Walter) Carlos for her variations on Bach. No less important was Carlos’ work on film, with musical contributions made to movies like Tron, Clockwork Orange and, of course, The Shining. Carlos’ has produced many albums and has been instrumental in developing many of the technologies used in modern day instruments. Her album, Beauty In the Beast shows the artist’s study of intonation and form, which is displayed in an blindingly lurid collection of pieces inspired, in part, by Balinese music.

Another early American electronic music pioneer is Laurie Anderson, who has explored the medium extensively, and has produced many fine albums, including Big Science, Mister Heartbreak and Life on a String. Anderson’s craftsmanship has an ethereal, ambient sound that is visceral and vibrant, nevertheless. Even today, after many albums, she continues to evoke images that are astonishingly fresh and virile.

Another American pioneer is Larry Fast, also known as Synergy, is another pioneer of American electronic music, whose works were noted by Rick Wakeman, who took him on to assist with their album, Tales from Topographic Oceans. Fast has also worked extensively with Peter Gabriel and the popular American rock group, Foreigner, producing a sound that was, and is, quite appealing to many adoring thousands.

In a sense, electronic music is the red-haired step child of music proper, the very antithesis, in many music lovers’ minds of what constitutes music. But what is music, if not a pleasing presentation of sound to evoke mood? Even before the strange and ethereal sounds of the Theremin, the thought that electricity could be harnessed to produce mellifluous tones was seen nearly as anathema to those who thought that only strings, wind and percussion were capable of presenting anything earworthy. Other pioneers like Mager, whose Spherophone (AKA Electrophone) introduced the music early, but their contributions are scarcely remembered.

Today, the electronic message is a forceful, but anonymous presence that reminds us that the quest for sound and innovation is a continuing journey that has as much appeal today as it did when things Electronic Music-wise took off. Today, groups like Air and Stereolab continue to pay homage to their progenitors, but they are rare exceptions to the crowd of musicians who scarcely know anything of their origins….

In these paragraphs, only a cursory introduction to the masters of the form is presented; there is so much more to listen to and explore that this poor tribute is but a meagre beginning. For those of you thirsting for the real thing, you must seek them out, now, for yourself!

images source: media.bluedistortion.com and of course the awesome Moog

Auricauricle IR Regular user gallery Join Date: Jun 2008 Location: Charleston, SC Posts: 1,693

Forum Member Auricauricle has a great post on the 10 best saxophone moments in rock and roll. The saxophone, and horns in general, are can turn a simple song into something full of magic, it can also turn a great song or album into utter crap if done wrong.  The saxophone is a make or break instrument and rock musicians/producers are gambling with a songs life when using one. I don’t full agree with everything on the list but my preferred music style is a bit different that Auricauricle.Auricauricle has picked a list that abstains from promoting the cheesy sax solo in early 80s music such as Huey Lewis and the News and other such lack luster pop rock songs.Read the list, enjoy, comment and add your own top 10. - audioreview

After considered study I have come up with this list of what, in my humble opinion, comprises some of the best saxophone solos in rock and roll history. I have no doubt that folks with more educated and refined ears than mine will amend the list, but this is what I have come up with so far. A few comments describing rationales for their inclusion is also provided, for those wet-behind-the-ears youngsters who aren’t aware of their presence as well as for the rest of you who value my opinion so highly (ahem).

10). Walk on the Wild Side. Classic and much revered number performed by Mr. Lou Reed and produced by David Bowie, Walk on the Wild Side’s sax solo was performed by Ronnie Ross, a Calcutta India native who tutored Bowie who went on to play the instrument on many of his best albums. The sax in this piece is sparse but succinctly beautiful, capturing all the decadence and greasy light-show freakiness that is what the song is all about.

9). One Year of Love. Queen’s ultimate love ballad. With Freddie Mercury crooning smooth as silk, Steve Gregory’s saxophone is close behind, soaking up every word and pouring out every ounce of passion. Gregory’s instrument dances in slow turns and sure steps. Beautiful, just beautiful!

8). New York State of Mind. Performed by Mark Rivera, whose sultry, urban sound deftly and able accompanies Billy Joel’s singular New York voice. Listen to the reed buzzing and close your eyes: the taxis, the hot dog stands, the steam pouring out the man-hole covers. Truly, Rivera knows everything about a New York state of mind!

7). Born to Run. Whenever Bruce Springsteen’s name comes up, this song is not far behind. The song rocks, and Clarence Clemons, along with Bruce and the rest of the E-Street bring the house and everything near it down with grand, polished and hearty form. Clemons is a powerful and accomplished performer, no mean feat for a main man on Springsteen’s line-up.

6). Your Latest Trick. Mark Knopfler took Michael Brecker’s smooth and sultry saxophone up on Brothers in Arms, an album that made adoring fans ecstatic and made true believers of those who appreciated Dire Straits’ talent but seldom recognized their raw and well-informed ability. Brecker’s saxophone is played pure and dark indigo, giving this album great weight, depth and soul.

for the top 5 click here – on audioreview forums

Join the audioREVIEW forums. forums.audioreview.com