Listening to the basic Netgear/Nordost network, the results were predictably flat, disjointed and colourless. Playing a 24/96 file of Víkingur Ólafsson’s Debussy-Rameau the sound of his instrument was thick and lumpen, the playing turgid, sluggish and dead. The Amandine Beyer/Gli Inconiti Four Seasons was unrecognisable, at once screechy and thuddy, an uncontrolled cascade of notes tripping over themselves in unseemly haste. It’s a world away from what’s on the discs (black or silver), from Ólafsson’s poise and perfect weight/wait and the incredible small group precision and intimacy of Beyer and her partners. Even something as musically two-dimensional as Lily Allen’s ‘Smile’ is rendered flat, losing it infectious energy, the intimacy and intelligibility of the lyrics, the attitude and accent that made this such a catchy, memorable hit. It’s telling that even the joys of bubble gum pop are rendered bland and innocuous by network corruption.
As previously reported, adding an Aardvark Classic at the streamer input on the DAC transforms things. The reggae beat of ‘Smile’ takes on that familiar, undulating, motive quality, the lyric gains shape and purpose, the mischievous spite that bubbles under the syrupy tune and arrangement is restored, giving the song back is zing. Ólafsson’s piano gains harmonic layers and complexity, fluidity and shape to the phrasing, weight and length to the notes. There’s an articulation and directed control to the placement of notes – and the gaps he leaves between them. The Gli Incogniti Seasons has its balance restored, the vivacity and energy in the playing gets organised and the familiar structure of the separate movements emerges. The relationship between the harpsichord and string continuo is defined with a tonal and temporal clarity that anchors the violin parts, filling in the previously missing mid-band, restoring the presence and purpose to the performance. All good – and for anybody familiar with the original Aardvark, only to be expected.
“It’s life, Captain…”
The substantial musical improvement reflects an increase in dynamic range, a reduction in noise and a new sense of temporal integrity. Along with those things comes additional colour and shape to notes, phrases and lyrics, a more organic, coherent and holistic presentation, music that better engages the listener by being more recognisable, intelligible, easier on the ear – by simply making more sense. If that sounds like a crucial improvement in performance, that’s ‘cos it is, innit (as Lily might say). It’s a big enough step up to make you wonder just how much more the Ultra can add?
Well, if the Aardvark Classic does the musical heavy lifting, the Ultra adds the texture and subtlety, fills in the gaps and delivers an air of sophistication where appropriate. Víkingur’s piano gains volume and harmonic character, with more complexity and air, layers and substance. More importantly, the precise placement and the weight of each note becomes more explicit, the human agency behind (and between) them far more apparent. It becomes less of a recording and more of a performance, just as Amandine Beyer’s bowing and attack becomes more obvious, the sardonic jabs hidden in Lily Allen’s lyrics hit harder, the contrast with the upbeat arrangements all the more effective. The Classic puts flesh on the musical bones, but the Ultra animates it and adds the emotional dimension too. As good as the Classic is, the Ultra is a more than worthwhile step up in musical communication and performance. Twice the price, it makes a far more substantial and fundamental improvement in the performance of network replay – and it makes that improvement in the areas that really matter: timing, dynamic and expressive range. It’s slightly ironic, but adding the Aardvark Ultra might well make your system sound significantly more human.
