Sit the two side by side and the VTL delivers better spatial separation and focus, coupled to greater depth and more finely etched instrumental lines. Listen to ‘Somewhere, Somebody’ (Jennifer Warnes, The Hunter Impex IMP8303) and the VTL delivers more distance and a more defined sense of separation between the voices, the Trilogies a fruitier, more motive bass. Likewise, the VTL sketches the extended lines of Lisa Batiashvili’s solo (the Passacaglia from the Shostakovich Violin Concerto No.1 – DGG UCCG-52086) with more precision and intensity, mapping the steps in pitch and level – but while the Trilogies offer a more rounded passage, they also capture the sheer energy in the playing, especially once it transits into the torrid fourth movement finale. Thrusting, powerful and full of urgency, the orchestra does well to keep pace with Batiashvili’s flashing bow and match her intensity. It’s scintillating stuff! But perhaps the most telling comparison is when re-visiting those close harmonies on ‘Sweet Is The Anchor’: the VTL does a better job of separating them in space, but the Trilogy succeeds in offering even greater separation – tonally. When it comes to instrumental tonality, the S-400 is no slouch, but the 995Rs are remarkable…
Listening to the Trilogies, it’s almost as if their sonic and musical strengths were tailored for CD and other digital sources – but they weren’t. Playing vinyl leaves you in absolutely no doubt of that. Whether it’s the driving riffs of ‘Pump It Up’ or the cannonade that halts and then re-launches ‘Little Triggers’ (Elvis Costello – This Year’s Model – Radar Records RAD3), the ominous, overbearing, almost ponderous power and sheer substance of Shostakovich’s ‘Babi Yar’ (Symphony 13 – Previn, Petkov and the LSO/LCO – Alto/EMI ASD 3911) or the inspired blowing of Lee Morgan as he lets rip on ‘Moanin’’ (Art Blakey and The Jazz Messengers – Blue Note 84003) the 995Rs project the music into your room with shape purpose and (dare I say it and, where appropriate) passion. The combination of vinyl and the amplifier’s way with colour, shape and substance makes for some compelling performances – and from some surprising sources. Suzanne Vega’s ‘The Queen And The Soldier’ (A&M SP-5072) can often sound folksy and trite, but here it takes on an almost Dylan-esque weight and pathos. She sings it like she means it and, these days, with these amps, it hits home. Nirvana’s Unplugged In New York (ORG 034) has always had a raw, edgy power, but the Trilogies add a real sense of purpose and attack to the proceedings, more of an event, more of a statement. When Kurt Cobain sings “Jesus don’t want me for a sunbeam…” there’s no humour or shock value intended: instead it comes across as a simple statement of fact. It’s almost as if the amps inject substance into the music’s message the way they inject presence into the performance. You hear it in the emotional intensity of Du Pré’s seminal Elgar. You hear it in the barren expanses of RVW’s Sinfonia Antarctica (Boult with the LPO/LPC – EMI ASD 2631). Play a record with the Trilogies and you’ll likely hear that record with more musical and physical presence than you’ve heard from it before. There are faster amps; amps with greater focus and clarity; amps with more dynamic range and amps with greater headroom. But you are going to do well to find any amp, especially any amp at this price, that brings greater physicality and intent to your records, or the instruments, performers and music captured in their grooves.
