The Monster is an entirely different beast. Not only does it work best with everything connected to it (rather than separated or split across different solutions) but it works best with literally everything connected to it. That means the complete system, from source to amplifier(s) – all connected to the one Telos box and therefore, presumably all benefitting from the common ground potential. Do that – which isn’t always as straightforward as it sounds – and the Monster really goes to work. In common with other infrastructural strategies (coherent cable looms, consistent supports) it’s only with the last cable, support or connection that the benefits really lock in. You get an incremental change with each addition and then the final step produces a real leap in performance. The Telos listening experience mirrors that perfectly: each component you hook up makes the system sound better, but it’s only with the final piece of the jigsaw that the whole thing clicks into focus. Even with the seven boxes (and ancillaries) of the test system, that presented a challenge when it came to cabling. Moving to the bigger system in the Music Room, things got really complicated, with amps being relocated closer to source components and long speaker cables replacing the short ones. But the effort was definitely worthwhile. Connect the entire system to the Monster and you unleash its ‘Super Power’…
Like any well considered grounding system, the Monster works with residual noise and aural pollution, reducing the overall noise floor, eliminating intrusive grain and tonal bleaching, bringing transparency to the soundstage, dimensionality and location to the individual instruments that people it. As a result you hear more precise and immediate micro-dynamics, greater presence and wider dynamic range as a whole. All good and – assuming that they’re properly harnessed – musically significant improvements. If we take Krystian Zimerman’s recent set of Beethoven Piano Concertos (with Rattle and the LSO on DGG, UCCG-45005/7) as an example, adding the Monster to the system elevates the performance both dynamically and expressively. The orchestral dynamics are bolder and (even) more emphatic, but the real difference comes in the emergence of Zimerman’s characteristic fluidity and grace. Note weight, spacing, pacing and phrasing all become not simply clearer and more connected, but effortlessly so. Rather than hearing the system reproducing the notes, you hear the notes he is playing. Just listen to the opening movement of the Emperor with its changes of pace and density, attack, weight and the subtle shape to its shifting phrases and you’ll find yourself marvelling at the expressive articulation, shape and subtle emphasis that Zimerman brings to the piano part.
But that grace and musical sophistication is only part of the story.
As always, there is the question of degree. How much of an improvement is represented by ‘more’ – and how much does it matter? In this case the improvement is musically and sonically dramatic. The picture is not just clearer and more present, it has greater impact and emotional range. This is the difference between a great performer like Zimerman and a makeweight trying to make an impression. There is a combination of precision when it comes to note weight and duration and humanity when it comes to conjuring life from the instrument. The result is both more natural and much more convincing: more natural and more convincing than the system without the Monster; more natural and more convincing than the system hooked up with an array of PPGs. It’s in that ability to convince, to help us willingly ignore the reproduction and enjoy the music, that you’ll find the Monster’s ‘Super Power’.
