In a recent post on The Skeptical Audiophile, Tom Port discusses a tradeoff common in mastering classical orchestral music. He points out that while the use of a little too much compression in the mastering of a classical recording, in this case a Rimsky-Korsakov piece on London Records, can hurt the bigger, louder passages, it can bring out the best in the quieter ones.

The horns are somewhat smeary and do get a bit congested when loud. There is more compression on this side two than there was on the best copy we played, and that means low level detail is superb, but louder parts, such as when the more powerful brass comes in, can get problematical.

Note how good The Flight of the Bumble Bee sounds here. Compression is helping bring out all the ambience and detail in the recording, and there’s no downside because the orchestra is playing softly, unlike the piece that precedes it.

In other words, it’s a classic tradeoff.

Tom points out here that when it comes to audio, there are always compromises involved, even before the record ever hits our turntable. Perfection, while a worthy ambition, is ultimately unattainable. And this goes just as much for our playback systems as it does for the recording and mastering process, if not more so.

Nevertheless, I contend that if we approach this hobby with the pretension that near perfect reproduction of the greatest recordings ever put on vinyl is an achievable goal, then we can achieve a great deal of success in audio. By gradually chipping away at the artifice that is inherent in playing back recorded music, we inch closer to realizing the full potential of analog audio, which is, in fact, a startling level of fidelity and musical truth.

I’m not sure many audiophiles ever achieve a level of performance in their systems that approaches this truth. There are several reasons for this, not the least of them being that most analog audiophiles are playing the wrong records to begin with. But perhaps the main reason is just a dictate of human nature. To offset the sacrifices we audiophiles make in this nutty hobby, which include no small amount of money, time and dare I say familial harmony, we need to feel that what we’re doing is somehow worth it all. And one of the things we do to feel that way is to fall in love with our systems.

I’ve done it, you’ve done it, we’ve all done it. Think of a late night listening sessions with a few glasses of wine and whatever the hell else coursing through your bloodstream. You put on a record, and suddenly, you realize, you’ve never, ever, heard that music, and maybe not any music, sound quite like that before! It’s a thrill to be sure, and one that we should certainly take the time to savor and enjoy. Absolutely we should!

But in the cold light of day we need to come back to earth and start recognizing that our system, just like every other audio system on the planet, has its limits. It is, if we’re being totally, soberly honest, far from perfect. If we’re going to make serious progress, we must acknowledge that as much as we may have loved it last night, our system can still be better, and the music and the artists that created and produced the wonderful music we play on it deserve our continued efforts.

A few weeks ago, I had a close friend who also happens to be an audiophile (a rare confluence in my experience) over for an extended listening session. He commented that flaws in an audio system can be hard to correct because “how do we really know where the problem is coming from?” To that I’d say, with respect to most audio systems out there, he’s absolutely right. But in the case of my system, which has been stripped down to the bare minimum of components and wires with every one of those components and wires carefully vetted for its ability to play a key role in reproducing music transparently, accurately and convincingly, I begged to differ.

“I know where the flaws are in my system” I told him, “and they’re mainly in the room.” He responded, “but don’t you want a bit more warmth to the sound?” I had to stop and consider the question for a moment, and to be honest, I’ve been considering it ever since. For my friend to say this, he must think my system lacks something that he feels ought to be there.

Is that something, “warmth” in this case, simply a missing coloration that he’s used to? Or is it something in the music that should be there but isn’t because my system fails to reproduce it. I’m fairly certain it’s the former, but I’ve been wrong plenty of times before and therefore I need to remain open to the possibility that I’m wrong about this, although I really don’t think I am.

The reason being, when I play a record with a very “tubey” sound, some might call it a “warm” sound, I get plenty of that sound without getting too much. And when I play a record that sounds thin and bright, I hear very clearly that it sounds thin and bright because there’s no coloration hiding those qualities. To my mind, this is as exactly as it should be.

The fact is, I’ve already had a “warm” sounding stereo, probably every audiophile has, and most likely the majority still do. That’s because the vast majority of audiophiles listen to digital music, and digital music is often so darn bright and edgy, we need some warmth to tone it down. Enter the tube DAC.

But do we need warmth when the very sound we’re looking for is already on the record? I’d say that if we’re listening to music that needs more warmth to make it sound better to us, then maybe we should be listening to different music, or a better recorded, mastered and / or pressed version of it.

If we play records that need no added colorations to sound their best, then we can build a system that brings those records to life in a way that no system with a “warm” sound ever can. With the right records, the system that’s built to play those records the best will be the system that’s as neutral as an audio system can be. And a system like that can reproduce a great sounding record in a way that’s so close to perfect, it can fool us into thinking that it is.

Enter the Esoteric Audio Research 324 phono preamplifier, a phono preamp that is not only very neutral in its sound, but also one that performs as close to perfect as any audio component you’re ever likely to find. The E.A.R. 324 will show you exactly what’s on your records, nothing more and nothing less, and it will do that with a level of nuance and tonal accuracy that will take your breath away.

I ordered my E.A.R. 324 at the height of the pandemic. These units are made to order, and mine was delayed months by supply chain issues. When I realized I could be waiting awhile, I decided to to try out some other phono preamps and review them. I still had some goodwill banked at my local audio shop, so I asked to borrow a couple of different units, one of which was the Boulder 508.

Before I took the 508 home, I read a review of it on Positive Feedback where the reviewer described the sound of the 508 this way:

There is a clarity to the sound that illuminates all dimensions within any given recording. There seems to be nowhere for information to hide. No shadowy corners, no dim colorations altering timbre or limiting dynamics.

This was not the way the 508 sounded to my ears, but it describes exceedingly well what we do want from a phono preamp, and exactly what we get with the E.A.R. 324. The 324 gives us seemingly everything on the record, and delivers it with a convincing power and dynamic spaciousness that no phono preamp I’ve heard can match. And that includes the very good and much more expensive Burmester Top 100 that I had the unique opportunity to demo side by side with my 324.

The other day I had occasion to remove and reinstall my E.A.R. 324 from / to my system. As I was connecting the inputs, I noticed a button that I’d forgotten about since I’d first installed the unit over a year ago. This button switches the input from the MM setting to the MC setting, raising the output level significantly.

I must have inadvertently pushed that button when I moved my stereo down to my dedicated room last summer. Since then, I’d been operating the 324 in the MM setting, and it was during that time that I’d written several reviews, including my review of the Burmester Top 100. Therefore not only did the 324 trounce the Top 100, it did it in the MM setting while running my MC cartridge!

It’s no secret that Better Records uses the E.A.R. 324 in their system. Anyone who’s spent any time at all on Tom Port’s blog knows how often he raves about the unit. I ordered mine through Better Records at a discount from the full retail price of $6095, a perk BR offers their customers.

Six grand is no small amount to spend on a phono preamp, or really any audio component for that matter. But as Tom put it to me, “the E.A.R. 324 is so good, it’s worth whatever you have to pay for it.” After trying several other phono preamps at a similar price point including the Boulder and the Conrad Johnson TEA2 and TEA2 SE, I’m forced to agree. And considering how easily the 324 outperformed the near $30k Burmester Top 100, I don’t feel I have to wander too far out on a limb when I say the E.A.R. 324 might be the best phono preamp available, at any price.

There may be no such thing as a perfect analog audio system, and as much as I wish it weren’t so, every system does require some compromises. But for those of us who’ve stopped falling in love with our systems and started falling love with music again, it’s nice to know that, perhaps, at least one component comes with no compromises.

If you’re seeking the ultimate in what’s possible in analog audio, get yourself an E.A.R. 324. If it’s not the perfect phono preamplifier, it’s as close to that as you’re ever likely find.