The Fekete-Kovacs Quintet & The Pannon Philharmonic Orchestra, Conducted by Laszlo Kovacs--Integro/Grandeur on CD

I spent a good part of the '80s exploring 20th Century Music, that nebulous genre of classical music that starts with Schoenberg's Transfigured Night and winds its way through Bartok, Rachmaninoff and Prokofiev until it settles into the minimalist trends of Philip Glass and Steve Reich. Sometimes I wonder where it left off, and when people stopped expecting the arrival of new composers. Someone more educated than me could probably offer a more explicit survey of "21st Century music," if it indeed exists in this context, but more than once I've lamented that movie soundtracks, for better or worse, pretty much make up contemporary classical music. I do realize that this is a distinctly American concern, especially when classical music still thrives in certain parts of the world...such as Hungary, for instance. But is the lack of interest in contemporary classical music contagious?

That's why this 2010 album, a challenging hybrid of jazz and classical genre, is so refreshing and unexpected. It's ambitious as all get out, with a 14-minute beginning section that melds the two disparate musical flows with a sly and extremely dynamic sense of mid-20th century sensibilities--think Leonard Bernstein, perhaps. Through its 66-minute run time Integro/Grandeur is full of unexpected turns, yet these segues are never abrupt or illogical. If that sounds like a stroke of genius, it is.

Dan Muzquiz of Blackbird Audio Gallery sent this CD to me, and I suspect he's either throwing out the gauntlet to see how I'll respond, or he's completely knocked out by the fact that someone is still making music like this and he's hoping someone else will be just as enthusiastic. While I have to admit that it took me a couple of weeks to truly wrap my head around this music, I'll subscribe to the latter position. It's an exceptional and exciting recording, and I now believe that classical music has a clear and promising future.

In a nutshell, Integro/Grandeur is a collaboration between a jazz ensemble named the Fekete-Kovacs Quintet and a full orchestra conducted by Laszlo Kovacs. At first I thought, man, I know this Laszlo Kovacs guy...he's the legendary Hungarian cinematographer who did Easy Rider, Paper Moon, Five Easy Pieces and many others. So he's a composer, too? Nope, same name, different Hungarian. This Laszlo Kovacs has built an extraordinary reputation in the classical world for interpreting such composers as Lizst and Bartok. (For the record, there's a Laszlo Kovacs in Hungarian politics, one in professional soccer, and the main character in the classic French film Breathless uses it as an alias.)

But the man behind this fascinating music is composer Kornel Fekete-Kovacs, a trumpet and flugelhorn player who is known for bringing symphonic jazz back into the mainstream almost single-handedly. Where Mr. Fekete-Kovacs pushes the envelope, and creates something unique than can be called 21st Century Music, is in the way he arranges the classical and jazz components so they share equal billing. Throughout this album, it's simply astonishing to feel the music gently move from one side to the other; there are times when the music is so firmly entrenched in one genre that you think it's impossible to shift--and then it happens swiftly and seamlessly. Sometimes it just takes a few notes of a soprano sax, or a lovely piano interlude...and sometimes it requires the full and unbridled force of the entire Pannon Philharmonic Orchestra.

By the way, the sound quality of this CD, released in the US by the BluePort Jazz label, is superb. It's actually far more than that; this is truly a reference CD. Dan spoke briefly with Jim Merod, one of the most talented recording engineers in the world and founder of BluePort Records, about the recording. (In addition, Jim is also a well-known music critic, audio "guru" and a professor of English and American literature who has taught at Cornell, Brown, Brandeis, UCLA and Stanford. He knows his stuff, in other words.) Jim offered plenty of suggestions for the mastering process and even worked on a few last-minute adjustments that didn't quite make it--mostly because "the Hungarian mail system conspired against them."

Nevertheless, this is a truly amazing recording that answers my initial question about so-called 21st Century Music. It's not going to be something new we haven't heard before, it's a seamless blending of what we already know; it's the contexts that are novel. I see these same patterns in other musical genres with mixed results, such as pop music that draws heavily on retro themes and motifs, but here it's an unqualified success. Fekete-Kovacs is quite celebrated in his native Hungary, and rightly so. For those of you who complain about the dearth of "new" classical music, it's time to look eastward and see the future.

The Ready Stance's Damndest on CD...and LP!

I've mentioned several times now how excited I am that so many new releases on LP also come enclosed with the full CD. Imagine my surprise, however, when I get a CD sent to me...and it comes with an LP! Well, it didn't exactly happen that way, so let me back up.

Wesley Pence, a musician who is also a friend of mine on Facebook, contacted me nearly a year ago to ask me about releasing his band's latest album on vinyl. While I don't have any contacts in the world's pressing plants, I did offer Wesley encouragement and made a few vague recommendations. He was able to locate a few facilities that were willing to press in minimum quantities of 300-500, and off he went. In parting, I told him half-jokingly to send me a test pressing--I'm a sucker for them--and he told me he'd send me the first one.

Nearly a year had passed, and I had forgotten about Wesley's project. Then, right after the new year, Wesley contacted me once more to ask for my address. The test pressing of Damndest was on its way! Now I have both it and the CD in my hot little hands, and it's really friggin' good.

The Ready Stance, Wesley's band, sounds at first like any talented band you might see at the Continental Club on a Friday night. For those not hip to the CC, it's one of the legendary clubs here in Austin and has a Cool Factor that's off the charts. It's relatively tiny yet attracts some of the best musicians in the Austin area, possibly because the sound system is so good and perhaps because the interplay between the audience and the stage is so intimate. I've seen great band after great band play here, musicians so good that you're surprised when you walk up to them after the show and ask to buy a CD and you find out they have no CD, no website, no mailing list--hell, they've only been rehearsing for two weeks. That's pretty much the Austin scene in a nutshell. Great music comes so easy when you're backed up with a shitload of talent--it's just a matter of finding three other people who aren't busy Friday night.

The Ready Stance has that same loose, casual yet slightly awesome talent that would be an ideal fit for the Continental Club. In fact, I was shocked that Wesley and his bandmates are actually from Kentucky, not Austin. Damn, I guess Texas doesn't have a monopoly on bands that can shift so seamlessly between genres such as country, rock and even a shade of psychedelia (heard on songs such as the opener, "Rancho Cristo"). For me that's sort of a trademark of Austin bands, that their music sounds so varied from different angles, all at the same time. But enough about Austin--these guys are Kentuckians, so represent!

While Wesley is credited with guitars and backing vocals (he's joined by Chase Johnston on vocals and guitars, Paul Conti on bass and backing vocals and Eric Morton on drums), he's written nearly every song. His lyrics are one of the elements that elevate these tunes. Take "Rancho Cristo" again, with its religious references that culminate the subtlely cynical verse "Land across the highway/Start construction day and night/Less a church, more a city/Touchdown Jesus/Neon light." One of the most disctinctive songs on the album, "Little Carmel," is unexpectedly adorned with Conti's banjo playing while it deals with someone exploring his own roots: "Little English, little Dutch/Little colored, just a touch/Little Gibson, little Goins/Little Carmel in the loins." There's certainly not singing about these things in mainstream country; they're too busy tiptoeing through the corridors of the record company headquarters. This is Lucinda Williams territory.

As far as the comparisons between the LP and CD go, I'll have to give the nod to the vinyl, which is a relief after the Kate Bush debacle. This is a supremely quiet pressing, despite the fact that Wesley apologized to me because, as he says, "Although I think recording quality is good, it's still basically a DIY, so we didn't go whole hog with audiophile-weight vinyl, etc." Wesley also said the band lucked into some vintage tube and analog gear and decided to remix the whole thing after hearing how good this equipment sounded. The test pressing was done in France, and whoever did it should be commended for a pristine, dynamic sound. Maybe they should take a crack at the next run of 50 Words for Snow.

Even the CD sounds pretty darned good. It says on the liner notes that Damndest was "recorded at home in 2011," and this reminds me how the simplest way is usually the best way (check out Jack White's recording prowess for more examples of this philosophy). What Wesley and the Ready Stance have captured is the excitement of a band playing great songs live for a smart, appreciative and slightly wild crowd, in a really cool club...I dont know, maybe one located somewhere in Kentucky.

New Vinyl Anachronist column up at Perfect Sound Forever

It's that time again, time for a new Vinyl Anachronist column (number 84!) at the e-zine Perfect Sound Forever. This one concerns the wonderful record label Light in the Attic and how they have succeeded in the marketplace through great re-issues at great prices.

You can read it at http://www.furious.com/perfect/vinyl84.html. Enjoy!

Arnie Sanders, Audiophile

I first met Arnie Sanders at our Whetstone Audio Hootenanny last December. Actually, I had received an email from Arnie several months before and he had invited Colleen and me over to his house in Austin to hear his system. I tentatively accepted his invitation and proceeded to forget about it for months. When I met him at the Hootenanny, I was quietly informed by others in the room that Arnie had perhaps the greatest audio system in all of Austin, and that I should arrange for a visit at once. It was by mere accident that I discovered Arnie's old email--I was looking for an old message from someone else--and was chagrined when I put two and two together.

I kept running into Arnie at the various trade shows such as the Rocky Mountain Audio Fest in October, and by the time he visited our room at CES I felt like he was an old friend. I told him about forgetting about his email. That's when Colleen and I made definite plans to visit Arnie, and now I can totally confirm that Arnie has one of the best privately-owned systems--and listening rooms--I've ever seen.

I say "privately-owned" because my frame of reference is the sound room at Avalon Acoustics in Boulder, Colorado, which I visited last October. That room, the size of a small movie theater, was so big that the space behind the speakers was as big as most people's living rooms. What made it so special was that the soundstage seemed to occupy that entire space and had an almost unlimited sense of air, layering and depth. It was built at an enormous expense to Avalon, and it was worth it. Well, Arnie's room is just slightly smaller. This is an audiophile who had a dream to build the perfect room for his system, and he succeeded.

It's almost unsettling to walk into the room for the first time. It's so unexpectedly big that it takes your breath away. Arnie has a beautiful home in a beautiful Austin neighborhood, yet when you walk around downstairs you have no idea of the scope of what's upstairs in that room above the garage. It was only after Colleen and I left that we stopped at the curb, stared back at the house, and noticed the large and seamless extension on the top floor. Our sense of spatial relation was restored. I can't imagine what this cost Arnie, and I know better than to come out and ask.

The room, with its twelve-foot ceilings, featured room treatments that rivaled those at the Avalon room. Arnie has literally thought of everything, from an HVAC system that is almost silent to acoustic panels that drop down over the large video screen. Despite all the engineering employed, the room avoids that ultra-modern look that so many dedicated listening rooms. It's warm, comfortable and welcoming in there.

None of this would matter if Arnie didn't have the hardware to back it up. I can't remember every piece in Arnie's system--too much gear to count--but the most salient components were the huge VTL Siegfried monoblock amps, the gorgeous Magico M5 speakers and the rare Steve Dobbins direct-drive turntable which sported a copper platter that weighs 33 lbs. (I'd never heard of Dobbins before, but it's clear from the sound quality that I should.) Digital sources were primarily Esoteric. Arnie's the type of audiophile who is so well-known and respected that manufacturers send him gear just to try out. Of course he's glad to do it.

Yes, Arnie has the hardware, but he also has the software. Colleen and I were treated to stellar recording after stellar recording--it's amazing how we would talk about a specific artist or recording and Arnie would simply walk over to his collection, pull it out and play it for us. Aside from an amazing sense of size and space that Arnie's system delivered, I was struck by the amount of sheer detail I was hearing from even familiar recordings. Simply stated, this is one of the top two or three systems I have heard, and that includes the Avalon room.

I was reluctant to blog about this; I know many top-tier audiophiles who don't want people to know what they have in their homes. Arnie doesn't mind. What sets him apart is his enthusiasm for the hobby and his willingness to expose as many people to it as possible. From talking to other audiophiles in Austin, I've gathered that a visit to Arnie Sanders' house is a rite of passage for music lovers throughout Central Texas. And if you're an unvited guest, Arnie has two giant dogs that will eat you.

Thanks again, Arnie, for a wonderful visit.

Kate Bush's 50 Words for Snow on LP

First the bad news: my LP copy of the new Kate Bush album, 50 Words for Snow, is one of the worst pressings I've purchased since I stopped buying used records on eBay. The surface noise levels are appalling, the records themselves are warped, and on the first disc the needle keeps going past the dead wax and swiftly across the label until my tonearm crashes into the spindle. In what third world country was this pressed? Even after a thorough and meticulous cleaning on the Walker Prelude LP Cleaning System, it was still borderline unlistenable. What a waste of $25.

Fortunately the folks at Anti, the record label, saw fit to include the entire CD in the package. So--and it pains a vinyl anachronist like me to say this--I actually felt happy when I switched to the digital rendering of this challenging release and gave Kate's latest effort a second chance. While at first I was ready to give 50 Words a pass from a critical standpoint, I begrudgingly let it sink it and now I'm enthralled by it. It's not for the faint-hearted...this 2-LP/CD release has only seven songs in its 65-minute playing time, so Kate is definitely in an epic mode. But after repeated listenings, the excess turns to a sublime maturity that is based on this hyper-intelligent artist's willingness to let songs develop and fulfill their divine purpose.

Sometimes I have to question my love for Kate. For me, the enthusiasm is contained to both sides of The Dreaming, the first side of Hounds of Love and the first two songs of her last fully original studio effort, 2005's Aerial. (I haven't yet heard The Director's Cut, the set of remixes she released earlier this year, because they were culled from two earlier albums I didn't really like.) On many of her releases, Kate switches from more conventional song arrangements and structures (well, conventional for her) to Kate-singing-while-playing-piano-and-little-more, and the first two sides of the new album start with nearly 35 minutes--almost an entire album for most performers--of that rambling, reflective and overly-mellow type of music. While listening to this LP for the first time, I didn't start paying attention to its craft until the Bowie-esque "Wild Man" kicks in with its turgid, fevered chorus (which features backing vocals by Andy Fairweather Low).

Once I popped in the CD, however, the more silent passages were fleshed out, and suddenly I was put under Kate's spell. I said Kate was hyper-intelligent, and this often means that she leaves more casual listeners in the gully when it comes to fully connecting with her somewhat lofty ambitions. But Kate is also passionate, romantic and supremely artful when you're paying close attention. The quiet opener, "Snowflake," features her son Albert as a snowflake who wants to ensure that he is discovered once he hits the ground. His classic choirboy soprano, which may remind you of the dishwasher in the film The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover, is a profound and somber counterpoint to Kate's lovely insistence in the chorus that "the world is so loud/keep falling/I'll find you."

"Misty," the longest track on the album at thirteen-and-a-half minutes, concerns a woman who has a passionate tryst with a snowman only to discover he has melted the next day--silly yet heady stuff. The aforementioned "Wild Man" is about the discovery of a yeti's footprints in the snow by an expedition, followed by Kate's assurances that "you're not an animal," and that his cry is a signal to her that "you sound lonely." Her duet with Elton John, "Snowed in at Wheeler Street," is remarkable in that his voice is more gently and husky with age and almost unrecognizable at first; it's unremarkable in that this is the most conventional song on the album and its lyrics are no more poetic than the average ballad sung by almost any two famous pop stars.

For me, the stand-out track is the title track which consists of Kate counting off the numbers one through fifty while Professor Joseph Yupik (voiced by British actor Stephen Fry) comes up with increasingly goofy words to describe snow such as anklebreaker, shnamistoflopp'n and the Klingon phrase peDtaH 'ej chIS qo. Propelled by Stev Gadd's exquisite turn on the drums, this song combines a trance-like momentum with Kate's shrieking pleas to the professor: "Come on Joe, you've got 32 to go/Don't you know it's not just the Eskimo." It's sounds light-hearted in print, but it's an intensive, almost addictive track. I keep playing this eight-and-a-half minute fever dream over and over.

All in all I wished I had saved a few bucks and just bought the CD, which is a real let-down for me considering my love for the analog formats. I've also wandered onto a few music forums where others have lamented the sad state of the vinyl, so it's not just my copy. But pushing that disappointment aside, I have to say that Kate is still as vital of an artist as ever, and I'm enjoying the second wind of her unique performing career. If you're a fan, this is a must-have; if you're not, you might still be surprised at the nerve it took to make this uncommon and sometimes difficult LP in an age where musical genius and a love for the obscure can be perceived as a character flaw.

Zuhootenanny!

Last Friday, Colleen and I headed out to Whetstone Audio to attend Brian Di Frank's second hootenanny, which honored Zu. Sean Casey of Zu was there to display many of his amazing high-efficiency speaker models such as the Soul Superfly, Essence and Definition Mk. 4. If you've ever visited a Zu room at a trade show, you know that Sean always brings the coolest music along, and this night was no exception. The Zuhootenanny had more of a rockin' feel--as well as a younger demographic in regards to the attendees--than our event last December, although I did spot a few of the same people as before.

My biggest goal for the evening was to hear the Zu version of the Technics SL-1200, which I've blogged about before, but alas, it was not meant to be due to some unforseen issue during shipment. The turntable in question sat off to the side, still in its box (which looked like any normal everyday SL1200 box). I still hope to check it out one day--if anyone can uncover the hidden potential of the best-selling turntable of all time, it's Zu Audio.

As usual, the Zu speakers were dynamic and punchy, even with relatively low-powered (but superb) amplification from Leben. I can't wait for Brian's next event--these hootenannies are really entertaining, and I always manage to find at least one worthwhile LP to buy every time I visit!

A Moos By Any Other Name...

It's amusing to me that I heard a prototype for the upcoming Moos Mini loudspeakers just a few short hours after watching one of my favorite film scenes of all time back at the hotel. The scene is from Arthur, and Dudley Moore is having a brief discussion with the father of his fiancee in the latter's library--and Dudley is utterly obsessed with the moose head trophy over the fireplace. That scene is responsible for some of my favorite funny movie lines such as "Where's the rest of this moose?" and, more importantly, "This is a tough room...(looking up at the moose)...I don't have to tell you that."

Despite its cute name, the Moos Mini is a serious product. At first glance it looks like a typical small two-way mini-monitor, nicely finished in a variety of bright colors such as red, black and white. The particular model I auditioned in a remote suite at the Venetian, far away from the bustling action at CES, was finished in a sunny "Lamborghini" yellow--or that's at least what the Moos designers called it. When I suggested that the red version might be evocative of another famous Italian automobile marque, they politely declined. These Australians are Lambo men through and through.

When you explore what makes this tiny speaker tick, you'll start to understand what makes it so special. Designed by Australian acoustic design guru Brad Serhan, the Mini uses very high-quality Revelator drivers from Scan-speak (the 5.5" 15W-8530 for the bass and midrange and the ring radiator R2904 for the treble), an enclosure built from the highest quality birch ply and acoustic damping that was designed by NASA for the Space Shuttle so that the astronauts could be protected from the extreme amount of noise during missions. While the prototype I heard at the Venetian was the passive version, Brad wants to introduce the Mini in an active version. The projected price for all of this...just $999 per pair.

For this price, you might think that the Mini is assembled in China. Nope...it's actually assembled by Scan-Speak in Denmark. You might wonder how Moos Audio is going to make a profit at this price; Brad told me that his margins are relatively slim and he's betting the farm that the Mini will be a huge hit. Volume, volume, volume, in other words. After listening to the Mini, I'm convinced it will be a great solution for computer-savvy audiophiles who like their Sound Engine loudspeakers but want something a little more revealing and musical.

An extended listened revealed a mini-monitor that throws up a monster soundstage full of detail. Bass is full and taut, and the imaging is as precise as it gets. Powered by modest amplification and an Oppo BDP-95 digital player, the passive version of the Mini was extremely competitive with other $1000 monitors--so having them powered for the same price ups the ante considerably. Brad told me that there's still a bit of work to do in terms of refining the overall sound and ensuring that the amplification fits into the Mini without affecting the existing enclosure, but he's already been working on this design for a couple of years and it shows. This is a great little speaker.

It's going to be a few more months before the Mini hits the market, but I hope to get an active pair to try out in a few weeks. I really want to test the Moos out as a nearfield/desktop monitor for my software-based music server. I suspect many future Moos customers will be using the Mini in such an arrangement. But even as a stand-alone, this is an exceptional little speaker with a big sound, a sound that will prevent you from asking "Where's the rest of this Moos?"

You can find out more about Moos and the Moos Mini at their website.