Miyajima Premium Mono BE Monophonic Cartridge (TAS 213)

Mono Makes a Comeback

If the definition of a classic is something that has stood the test of time, then the LP has handily achieved that status. Written off in the late 1980s as a relic, discarded by numerous libraries and audiophiles, and sneered at in the popular press, it has now made a comeback. The compact disc, not the LP, seems headed for the dustbin of history. Greg Beron of United Home Audio, who is well-versed in all things analog, including the restored and upgraded reel-to-reel machines he purveys, even observed at the 2010 Rocky Mountain Audio Fest that vinyl has almost singlehandedly revived the entire high end by prompting audiophiles to purchase turntables, tonearms, and other accessories that, more often than not, require the assistance of a capable dealer to install properly.

Part of the allure of the LP is its tactility—the ministrations that can, or should, be performed to extract ultimate performance, ranging from the laborious process of cleaning the black disc to, at the most extreme end, demagnetizing it. There is something almost hypnotic about seeing a needle carefully lowered onto a record, the moment of suspense as you hear a split-second of silence, then a burst of music. Playing a CD is a much more anonymous enterprise, the spinning transport being hidden inside a black or silver box. Another not insignificant aspect of turntable superiority is the sheer joy of hearing the lustrous sound produced by an LP. Finally, there is the nostalgia factor. Turntables were both a literal and mental piece of furniture in the past century, making cameo appearances in novels such as Kingsley Amis’ Girl 20, Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain, and Anthony Powell’s A Dance to the Music of Time.

Turntables may never reassume the easy and assured prominence they once enjoyed, but as the LP stakes its claim to permanency, no development is more exciting and momentous than the return of the mono cartridge. Surely but not so slowly, the idea of listening in mono is acquiring a new vogue among audiophiles, a development that can only be devoutly welcomed. Indeed, the number of mono cartridges that have appeared in recent years is not inconsiderable—AirTight, Dynavector, Grado, and Lyra makes up the first rank of companies. It’s a seductive place, mono is. Upon entering it, you may never go back. You may find yourself hunting down monos to a degree that might previously have seemed peculiar, if not downright bonkers—Roland Celette, the cultural attaché of the French embassy, and an avid collector, told me that a few years ago he even dived into a dumpster filled with precious 78s to rescue as many as he could.

The truth is that the heart of recorded music is, in many ways, contained in mono, at least if you’re a fan of jazz, classical, or early rock music. Much of The Beatles’ oeuvre, for example, was recorded in mono, then mixed to stereo. When it comes to jazz, the great masterworks and labels—Riverside, Prestige, Contemporary, and Columbia—were recorded in mono through the 1960s (some controversy now swirls around the Blue Note recordings, though I recollect Rudy Van Gelder stating in an interview years ago in Stereophile that he was recording, at least mentally, in mono even when using stereo—my own preference is for mono sound when it comes to the Blue Notes). Monos also command top dollar in the used record market, at least when it comes to jazz. Again and again, these albums are simply magnificent, often markedly superior to recordings made today. Listen to a Lester Koenig recording of Sonny Rollins or Shelly Manne and I guarantee you’ll be floored by the sound quality. Part of it was that they were using tubes and only a few microphones. The engineers of yesteryear really knew their stuff and didn’t overcomplicate the recording process. Something has been lost.

Monos also happen to be the LPs that I gravitated to as a child. Louis Armstrong and Jelly Roll Morton were staples of my musical diet, listened to on, if I recall correctly, my old man’s Advent loudspeakers, which sounded pretty good in their day. Of course, I wasn’t a “critical” listener, just a tyke smearing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and enjoying the music. But it’s that sound that I instinctively gravitate to—solid, big, animated. (I’m convinced that listening to music as a child on a good stereo is, in many ways, the first ceremonial step to becoming an audiophile, the exposure invaluable and incurable, but that’s a topic for another day.) When you’re listening to mono, the accursed audiophile itches don’t need to be scratched. Your mind tends not to obsess about the details but to luxuriate in the overall presentation. To put it plainly, I’ve become a true monomaniac.