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Random Noise 22
Waiting for Godot – Sorry, I Meant Sasha
A scatter-shot miscellany in anticipation of
Wilson Audio’s Sasha W / P speaker system.
Let’s call it Part One. The review will
comprise Part Two.
Part One
Dissatisfied with what was available, in
1985 Dave Wilson created the Wilson Audio
Tiny Tot as a portable location monitor. The
angular, anvil-heavy runt attracted
attention at a Consumer Electronics Show,
with orders soon following. Wilson’s
imposing WAMM had been in existence since
1981. Systems in the WAMM’s heady range
don’t fly off the shelf – figuratively or
literally.
Would the Tot prove a different story? To
make its domestic mark, a companion woofer
doubling as a pedestal seemed a prudent
addition: and so, in 1989, the Puppy. Among
audio classics, throughout its iterations,
the WATT / Puppy set the pace. One has only
to remind oneself of speakers bearing a
striking resemblance. A good idea’s legs
canter off in many directions.
My Series Eight WATT / Puppy pair is the
last Mohegan. (There never was a Series
Four. Wilson Audio does a fair amount of
business in Asia. For the Chinese, the
number portends bad luck. Would that General
Motors had exercised a similar degree of
cultural sensitivity. The Chevy Nova bombed
in Latin America, where “no va” means “it
doesn’t go.”)
Any MBA worth his April Fool bonus will
advise a manufacturer to replace products
with “new and improved” successors, whether
or not the replacements are better. Before
the Puppy’s advent, Martin Collums reviewed
the WATT in the February, 1988 Stereophile:
“I knew from my own experience at the
Chicago CES that the WATT was … demonstrably
one of the best speakers at the show …
proving capable of breathtaking clarity,
transparency, and depth … .”
Collums goes on to address weaknesses: “…
cellos tended to sound like violas, while
lower-mid and upper-bass sounds were
emasculated … Even kettle drums sounded thin
and pinched,” etc. I heard a contemporaneous
WATT at an audiophile’s home and was
impressed by its transparency and
resolution, and most especially, by its
ability to throw a handsomely dimensioned
image, but, as with Collums, I heard
deficiencies. An apron-like panel, called a
beard, addressed the WATT’s anemic low end,
in the event none too effectively. So
impressed, yes, but nowhere near being a
fan. I was at the time an Allison acolyte
and querulous zipcord populist. Having since
mellowed, I identify with the gentry that
measures with its viscera.
Part One, cont’d
My first WATT / Puppy pair, the Series Five,
in no way resembled the Six, which has been
described as the W / P’s longest stride
forward. If Dave Wilson’s entourage includes
MBAs, I suspect they’ve had little effect on
the scheduling of new and improved WATT /
Puppies. In my experience, that’s what W /
Ps have been: different in significant ways
and better than their predecessors.
Through Series Eight, the WATT has retained
its derrière grab-bar largely as a symbolic
badge of independence. “Have handle, can
travel.” In real-life terms, the Puppy never
figured as other than the WATT’s necessary
companion. Grab-bars notwithstanding,
independence has been largely pro forma.
Wilson Audio’s Sofia, a WATT / Puppy
lookalike, is configured as an indivisible,
single-enclosure system. The Sasha retains
its W / P credentials as a two-unit entity,
with, however, the W aspect having
relinquished autonomy. Its central nervous
system, the crossover, resides in the P. And
the grab-bar’s gone.
Part One, cont’d
I’ve read Alan Sircom’s review in issue 67
of the British publication Hi-Fi+ and have
looked in on WilsonAudio.com for a few facts
and figures. Sircom likes the Sasha. Doesn’t
surprise me. At this late date, Dave and
crew are likelier to break out in cherry
blossoms than produce a less than exemplary
design. We’ve come a long way from the mixed
blessing Collums reviewed.
I intend to operate the Sashas as I have the
Eights for the past several months: perched,
minus spikes, on Acoustic Revive underboards.
(I cover these quartz-based platforms in
Random Noise 21, as I have a number of
Acoustic Revive’s effective oddities in
earlier columns.) This is no mere display of
contrarian chutzpah. The Eights on their
underboards sound just grand –– so good in
fact that I wonder how much better (or
different) the Sashas will be. That which
remains to be heard provides us
long-in-the-tooth canned-sound sponges the
merest echo of the anticipatory thrill young
lovers experience en route to a tryst.
WilsonAudio.com provides descriptions and
discussions of the new speaker’s essentials,
with particular regard to how it differs
from its forbears. In part two of this
report I’ll tell you how the Sashas sound ––
via this system, room, and my eager ears.
Toward that end, here’s what the Sashas will
be working with:
Aurum Acoustics’ Integris CDP, a superb
Canadian CD player with preamp features.
Derrick Moss designed this too well kept
secret as part of an integrated system. See
AurumAcoustics.com for details.
NuForce Reference 9V3SE (Special Edition)
mono amps engineered in the US and
manufactured in Taiwan. V3 (Version 3)
identifies the recentmost model. In my
Random Noise 21 comments I mention my
NuForce connection. While you are welcome to
question my good opinion of these little
beauties, I can only declare that, from the
start, I’ve been smitten by NuForce
technology, which has only improved over the
past few years. The Sashas are rated at a
nominal four ohms with a 1.8-ohm dip at 92
Hz. I’m curious to see whether a challenging
load gives these switching amps trouble.
From Japan, Acoustic Revive power cords,
speaker cables, power-distribution boxes,
dummy plugs for outlets, outputs and inputs.
I’ve recently replaced the very good
Acoustic Revive balanced interconnect pair
with Nordost’s astonishingly good Valhalla
balanced pair.
Acoustic Revive, continued: two
floor-standing room-tuning panels, dark and
clear quartz-crystal pucks, cable lifters,
quartz-based platforms for the
power-distribution boxes, components and, as
mentioned, speakers.
Acoustic Revive, continued: disc
demagnetizer, negative-ion generator,
Schumann Resonance generator, EMF
cancellers. For model designations and
descriptions, see AcousticRevive.com. The
near-English texts are a tough slog, but, as
audiophiles, you’re probably acclimated to
syntactically challenged, hyperbolic prose.
You’ll manage just fine.
Dedicated Oyaide duplex outlets.
The system occupies the long wall of a
nicely proportioned room with old-fashioned
plaster walls, double-glazed windows,
irregular surfaces, upholstered seating (two
couches, armchair, large hassock), carpets,
floor-length draperies. See Random Noise 19
for a few photos taken before the new amps
and underboards arrived.
Part One, cont’d
In connection with an equipment report, A
Stereophile reviewer mentions Memory is an
Elephant, an Angel CD released in 1999. The
Tin Hat Trio performs on accordion, pump
organ, toy piano, violin, viola, guitars,
banjo, and mandolin. He reminded me that I
have the disc, along with Helium, a
companion release. I recall enjoying the
music, which I haven’t played for about nine
years. What I then thought of as well
produced is the kind of thing I listen to
now in less than total comfort. As I hear
it, the production occupies an unconvincing
space – a studio concoction.
So what does that mean? That my standards
and expectations have become all the more
finicky? That a more revealing sound system
exposes offputting production values all the
more effectively? That I’m an even bigger
snob than you thought?
I’m somewhat of the Harry Pearson School. A
good recording should aspire to an idealized
– emphasis on idealized – version of live,
unamplified music performed in an
acoustically attractive setting. This is
already a wobbly proposition. Apart from
classical, publicly performed music, even in
small spaces, is almost always amplified,
and in the main none too subtly. I went to a
fund-raiser in my town where, in one room in
our host’s home, a cabaret-style pianist and
vocalist entertained the guests. The singer
was amplified where no amplification was
needed. She sang into a mic because that’s
what cabaret singers do. A performer’s blue
blanket …
To repeat (old guys tend to do that), when I
identify myself as a Pearsonite, it means
that I want recordings to idealize the live,
unamplified event: a vanishingly rare
condition. Whatever, the Tin Hat Trio
doesn’t make the cut. Their space sounds
contrived – unreal, somewhat enclosed,
reverb notwithstanding – as do most studio
laminates.
A great many audiophiles have no problem
with what I find objectionable. Their
musical interests are at one with the kind
of artifice that turns me off. Please
understand: rather than issuing value
judgments, I’m identifying a difference in
taste and expectations. Some years ago a
well respected audiophile journalist told me
about a rock concert he attended that
impressed him as being superbly amplified.
Who was I to ask, Are you kidding? Whatever
the aesthetic or technique, degrees of
excellence exist, along with the
abovementioned chacun à son goût factor.
 Speaking
of which – taste, I mean – I fell in love
with a recent arrival, a two-CD production
(Mode 216) of Morton Feldman’s Trio (1980),
with Marc Sabat, violin; Rohan de Saram,
cello; and Aki Takahashi, piano – in music
of this kind the brightest stars imaginable.
And they don’t disappoint.
Feldman (1926-1987), in my view the greatest
of the avant-garde coterie that came to be
known as the New York School, composed, in
his prime, music of extraordinary
transparency, simplicity and, of course,
length. In this performance, Trio occupies
105 minutes of transcendent sublimity. A
1996 performance on hat ART (CD 6195) is 76
minutes long. Otherwise strictly notated,
Feldman’s music is often permissive with
respect to duration: long, longer, and close
to forever. The present performers bring an
elegance and warmth to their interpretation
that this remarkable recording captures in a
fashion that is no less gratifying.
Here’s Mode’s Brian Brandt on the subject.
This is a man who cares, but more important,
knows what he wants and how to achieve it:
“I find the Trio, like much of Feldman’s
later music, to be very sensual. This is not
a cold, analytic music, and the performers
here celebrate the Trio with beauty and
color. Their tempo choice is akin to
breathing. We strove for a warm, detailed
recorded sound. [Feldman, a close friend to
several abstract expressionist painters,
comes as close to synaesthesia as any
composer I can think of. The music of his
mature period has me seeing colors. Sober.
MS]
“Two very distinct mixes were made for the
surround and stereo versions... [We’ll
remain with the stereo version. I have not
heard the other. MS]
“For the stereo mix, the violin and piano
are clearly separated left and right to
accentuate their interplay. Feldman’s use of
extended string techniques can blur timbral
separation between cello and violin,
creating unified sonic events exploring the
qualities and possibilities of the
combination of instruments –– for example,
utilizing the resonance of the piano and the
sustaining qualities and dynamic control of
the strings. These subtle nuances are
brought out of the detail of the recording.”
I’ll say! The recording’s intimate warmth
and luminous detail, its superbly idealized
take on live sound, are, on their own terms,
aspects of a masterwork. When music you love
is recorded lovingly, you understand what
the fuss is about –– I mean, of course, the
fuss to which we canned-sound sponges go.
Part One, conclusion
Now, about those yet-to-arrive speakers: the
Hi-Fi+ review makes an encouraging point.
The Sashas aren’t about translating donkeys
into unicorns. If it takes its proper place
as the Model Eight’s successor, I should
think not. Nothing’s more boring that an
aggressively euphonious audio system.
Intervention has its place, but not in the
listening room.
I’ll see you next with the Sasha report.
Till then, buy low, sell high. You can’t go
wrong.
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