TESTED: TW Acustic Raven One turntable

The ultimate in no-fuss high-performance analog performance

“The ’tables are almost totally interchangeable,” according to U.S. importer Jeffrey Catalano of New York’s High Water Sound, “except for the base and plinth. We also offer the Raven Two, which is a two-arm version of the One with a stand-alone motor.”

Catalano also told me how easy the Raven was to set up. Oh, yeah, I thought, having heard such assurances plenty of times before only to find patience wearing thin and profanities flying thick. But in this case, Catalano wasn’t blowing smoke. The Raven One is, in fact, unusually easy to set up. Sure, the cartridge and arm adjustments require the usual meticulous care, but the turntable itself requires little more than fifteen minutes of attention: Remove it from the box, screw in the three feet, affix the bearing/platter assembly/belt, hook up the outboard supply, level, and set speeds. And because of the Raven’s high-precision build and superb motor/power-supply design—you set each speed with a strobe and then “lock” it into a solid-state memory—the speed remains accurate, without drift. For those who love to play records but who lack the skills and/or desire to fuss with the hardware, TW Acustic turntables may represent the ultimate in no-fuss high-performance analog performance.

And just what is that performance like?

As JV pointed out in his review of the AC-3, Woschnick’s goal was to marry the speed accuracy and dynamic range associated with the best direct-drive designs with the low noise, harmonic complexity, and transient speed of belt drives. The man has met his goals.

One of the first things I repeatedly noticed with the Raven One actually occurred before a single note had been played—this is an exceptionally “silent” turntable. Meaning that the electro-mechanical noise we normally hear as a stylus hits the lead-in grooves is unusually low in level here. At first this is almost disconcerting, especially if you were playing the previous LP at a fairly high volume level. But once you’re used to it, what you appreciate is something that JV hailed in his review, which is that the TW Acustic turntables seemingly allow for notes to linger longer than most other designs do. (I haven’t heard the AC-3, but I’m willing to bet that it does this to degrees greater than the Raven One. I’d also bet that as you add motors and mass this quality ramps up incrementally.) You’ll hear this with all kinds of music. Take Jeff Beck’s brilliant rendition of Charles Mingus’ “Goodbye Pork Pie Hat,” from Wired [Epic], where, as the song’s slow intro unfolds against a very large acoustic space, the Raven One unfurls ribbons of complex tone colors from Beck’s electric guitar, along with the splashy liquidity of a Fender Rhodes electric piano, and brightly shimmering cymbals.

The Raven One’s ability to allow notes to fully and completely blossom and slowly fade, with ghost trails lingering like shooting stars, was fully evident with Luigi Nono’s hauntingly beautiful A Carlo Scarpia [Edition RZ], which was composed around the lengthy decay of sounds punctuated by abrupt dynamic outbursts. Scored for a large orchestra (10 winds, 11 brass, 24 strings, harp, celeste, bells, triangle, and timpani), A Carlo Scarpia displayed another Raven One hallmark—its sheer beauty of sound. (If you go back, and you should, and re-read Jonathan’s review, you’ll note that he and I come to essentially the same conclusions on Woschnick’s designs, although we made a point of not discussing details of our opinions until I had lived with the Raven One for awhile.) Whatever music you play on the Raven One sounds simply and utterly gorgeous. But not in the way a highly colored tube component does, but in a way that sounds musically natural and always “right.” In a way that brings you that much closer to the musical event.

And it’s not because the Raven One is fattening things up, rounding edges, or softening transients. Check out the Horace Parlan Quintet’s Speakin’ My Piece [Music Matters/Blue Note 45rpm], and note the almost violent transient attack of Tommy Turrentine’s piercing trumpet, which is also very extended and airy up top, or the rich, woody percussiveness of Parlan’s piano, the complex harmonics of the Turrentine brothers unison playing of the theme (with Stanley on tenor sax), and the rich pluck of George Tucker’s upright bass. All are reproduced with a spot-on pitch accuracy and a rhythmic stability I’ve never quite experienced in this way before.