One of the objects of this exercise – beyond a simple assessment of Nordost’s, do-it-all entry offering – is to examine the importance of coherence within the cable loom and within the system. But, if the hypothesis is that increasing the coherence of your cable loom allows you to hear more clearly what the rest of the system is doing, it’s equally important to ensure that the system being used to test that hypothesis doesn’t itself dilute or obscure the results. So, with that in mind, I used a Nordost QB8 distribution block, to further extend the consistency (and eliminate a further cause of inconsistency). Likewise, racks, supports, spikes and footers were all from the Andante Largo range. With the dedicated, star-grounded AC supply and (in this case) the single parallel ground attached to the QB8, it elevated the infrastructure to the point where it was only the cables that could introduce incoherence.
Kind of Blue…
So much for the theory, what do the Blue Heaven cables actually sound like? The first thing to say is, “Probably not the way you expect them to.” There’s none of the immediacy, astonishing micro-dynamic and textural resolution or startling macro-dynamics that you get from Odin 2. But that’s hardly surprising, given that you can cable a complete system with Blue Heaven for less than the cost of a single O2 power cord. But what the Blue Heaven’s do share with the flagship cables is their sense of organisation (temporal and spatial) and their uncanny grasp of perspective and proportion. During initial system set-up, they absolutely nailed both the call and response nature and intimate rhythmic relationship between the bass and piano on ‘Do Nothin’ Till You Hear From Me’ (Duke Ellington and Ray Brown, This One’s For Blanton, Analogue Productions CAPJ 015) as well as scaling and locating the two instruments with an uncanny ease. Natural pace and rhythmic integrity have always been Nordost strengths, but the Blue Heavens build on that foundation with their musical and acoustic coherence.
Play the Babayan/Trifonov Rachmaninoff For Two (Deutsche Grammophon 4864805) and the Blue Heavens deliver the two pianos, solidly rendered and explicitly placed within the recording’s expansive acoustic. Overall dynamics are beautifully scaled, while the music’s pace, `each player’s attack and the relationship between them are bound into a single, convincing performance (unlike the Yuja Wang/Víkingur Ólafsson debacle I witnessed recently in London). What I wasn’t expecting was the almost throwaway ease with which the cables allowed the system to separate the two pianos (Babayan’s Steinway, Trifonov’s Bösendorfer), not just spatially but tonally too. The clarity with which the interlocking parts were identified yet combined adds a whole new dimension to the music, a dimension that’s rarely heard. This is one of the recordings I generally carry with me, precisely because it offers such a clear view of any system’s musical insight and access. While the parts of this system might be individually impressive, there’s no doubting the degree to which the Blue Heavens are binding them into a coherent whole: a whole that’s greater than the sum of the parts. It’s a salutary lesson in system building.
