Each of the box sets aren’t cheap – you’re looking at $300-$350 for the stereo set or $400 for the mono collection. The Beatles: Rock Band will set you back $90 or so for just the game, making it a very expensive day for the rabid Beatles fan.

So my question to you: Did you pony up the cash for some Beatlemania today? If so, what did you get? And is it worth it?

Back in April, I got great vinyl rips of the major original mono albums, as mixed by the fab four and George Martin. The difference from my stereo CDs—which come from copies mixed in no time by audio engineers to eager to play with stereo panning effects—was beyond belief:

Beatles’ record producer and arranger George Martin—the Fifth Beatle—once said: “You’ve never really heard Sgt Pepper until you’ve heard it in mono.” As it turned out after hours of listening tests, it’s completely true.

The first article I ever got published was an opinion piece on Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. I was 16 at the time and, needless to say, quite naive. I wasn’t very much into non-Beatles music at that age, mainly because I didn’t have much access to it. It wasn’t until the next year that I was able to buy music regularly, having at last my own stereo system. But back then, my music world was all about the Beatles—and crap 90s radio pop. My dad had Sgt Pepper along with the rest of the Beatles’ records and some compilations of classic rock, from Chuck Berry to bloody Kansas, so that was my music world.

I couldn’t stop listening to Sgt Pepper. Non stop, I played it and played it until my ears bleed and then I played it some more. It was the stereo version, not the mono mix, and it has lived with me ever since. Then, a few months ago I read in The Word—a very good British music magazine—that the Beatles in mono are—like George Martin implied—better than the Beatles in stereo. Apparently, the Beatles didn’t give a damn about the stereo mix, only about the mono. In fact, they cared so little that they passed on the stereo mixing sessions: Once the mono was done, they left the building.

So I started looking for them. Finding the actual mono mix in the market was impossible. Not to talk about the fact that I don’t have a turntable anymore. For some reason, the Beatles company didn’t have the mono mixes of the Beatles’ albums available either—they are going to re-release them now, it seems, remastered—so I got into Torrent to hunt them down. I couldn’t find them in the first try. I found a couple of MP3 rips, but I wanted to have FLAC rips of the original vinyls. After some time I gave up, forgetting about the mono Beatles until the Gizmodo’s audio week.

I thought trying it would be interesting for a feature, so I started looking for them again and got 192kbps MP3s, which I compared to the stereo version at the same bit rate. Since Sgt Pepper was my album, I started to listen to its songs in pairs, with my earmuff headphones on.

I was blown away. George Martin was oh so right: The songs do sound different. I was so surprised, that at the beginning I freaked out. “What? What? How? What the f–k?” was in my mind all the time.

When Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band came up, my first impression was that the sound had more thump than the stereo mix. A lot more thump, for a lack of a better word. It was like someone was beating me with a hammer. It was kind of noisy, but it filled my head and pushed me in a way the stereo version didn’t.

Then good old Ringo—my favourite Beatle—came up singing With A Little Help From My Friends. Same effect. It felt weird, but so much better. I kept coming back to the stereo versions for comparison and, before I noticed, I was thinking: “These sounds a lot weaker. These sound artificial.” Gone was the separation of instruments in the right and left channel too, which now feels so artificial. It was artificial, since stereo was a novelty back then: Most people still listened to music in mono and stereo was the “new thing.” As a result, producers overused it, just for the sake of it, like when 3D cinema came out and everything was an excuse to fire arrows and rocks and monsters at the public.

I definitely liked the way the mono version sounded—a lot more, even while I knew the stereo version till the last beat and note. LSD came up: same result. The sound is crisper and nearer. The bass a lot better. Again that special thump, even while this is such a delicate song. Getting Better gets better, and so does the rest, Fixing a Hole, She’s Leaving Home, Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite… I just couldn’t have enough.

But that wasn’t all. In the mono version you can hear stuff that is not in the stereo version. And not just bits, but quite a lot of things. Instruments, notes, even lyrics. Take the reprise version of Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band: It is full of shouting—Lennon going bananas at the end, and other bits at the beginning—that is not in the stereo mix.

Maybe it’s the novelty of listening to a “new” take on something that I know by heart, but I doubt it. As an experience, I like it a lot better. So much that I’m dying to get FLAC versions of good vinyl rips—or the remastered mono versions, as soon as they come out. And while your taste may be different, from now on this is the version I’m keeping in my iPod.

So yes, I’m excited about tomorrow. To hear how the new mixes are. I’m sure the clean mono set will be fantastic, but I’m really curious about how they managed the stereo remixes. Hopefully, they have added a new dimension, overriding the artificial panning effects, and creating a stereo mix that could live up to the original Beatles’ sound. [Gizmodo]

My objective in experiencing a full-bore audiophile’s listening room was not to try to call him on whether or not he or I could hear the difference in speaker cables composed of wire hangers or braided unicorn mane—no, it was to listen to music on a $US350,000 stereo. But while I was there, how could I not try to experience a few before-and-after tests to see if I could spot the harmonic differences that are the audiophile’s raison d’etre?

The differences we are talking about here are, of course, of the most incredible subtlety. But to many critics of audiophiles, a subtle change is quickly reduced to and equated with zero change, whereupon the screams of hysterics and rage against the immense stupidity and utter inanity of the audiophile life begins.

I didn’t think I had to say this, but I guess I do: Anyone who spends $US20,000 on speaker cables is fucking crazy. In fact, anyone who spends $US200 on cable is crazy, in my opinion. But that’s just not the point.

If I was drinking wine with a sommelier or wine critic, I wouldn’t find it irrational to taste subtleties that I might have glossed over when drinking in the presence of normals. In these cases, it’s not about the power of suggestion, it’s about the power of context, and like it or not, there’s context at the heart of all the world’s manias, anything to which we attach the suffix “phile.”

With audiophiles, I am an agnostic rather than an atheist. I believe that these differences, however miniscule, are, to those who have spent their life studying them, based on something real, not invented. Can I hear them? Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I write them off completely. My belief here is based not on decades of listening on high-end gear, but on a day I spent listening to a $US350,000 system with someone who’s been doing this for forty-some years.

It’s a fact: I was led into hearing things I might not have without guidance. While some look to this possibility as evidence that the whole thing is a sham, I don’t. I would need a lot more time to build up the necessary context to even be near a place where I could pretend to listen critically for such minutiae, but I heard something different than I would hear listening to my own sound system, and that’s also a fact.

With that out of the way, here are three wholly unscientific but incredibly interesting listening tests we did in Fremer’s audiocave. They were a blast.

Power Cable Swap
Test Song: “Avalon” by Roxy Music
Surprisingly not the fishiest test we ran, at play here is the purity and frequency range of the raw AC power that gets fed to the speaker amps. Fremer had two cables laying around that he was reviewing—one from Power Snakes Shunyata Research at a cost of $US4,000 and one from Wireworld, whose $US1,200 cable’s selling point is that it filters out all but the 60Hz frequency of pure, unadulterated US alternating current.

Here’s Wireworld’s filtering claim, from their website:

An ideal audio or video cable would pass the entire frequency range without alteration. However, an ideal power cord would pass only the 50Hz or 60Hz AC power, while blocking all other frequencies, to prevent power line noise and harmonics from degrading the sound and imaging quality of the system.

Not entirely sure how those two are related, but a claim is a claim.

The result: I heard a difference here, but whether or not it was a direct result of AC filtering, who knows. The filtering cables (the cheaper ones) seemed to sound a bit more reserved, but in some ways clearer. There might have been a little less harshness in the high frequencies of cymbals, or when Bryan Ferry sang an “S” sound. The more expensive AC cable was different, but it was hard to quantify how or why. Maybe a fuller sound, but not necessary a better one.

With this one, if there’s any audible change at all from one to the other, one is still not better than the other. That’s an important point to make here—spending more money in the audiophile realm often just means getting something different, not better.

Speaker Cable Swap
Test Song: “Whole Lotta Love” by Led Zeppelin
Let me say now that listening to “Whole Lotta Love” on this system at high volume was transcendent each and every time, no matter what gear was involved. You may want to put a knife in any audiophile you see, but if you heard that song like I did once, and realise that these guys get to listen to it that way every time, you’d be doing it out of jealousy, not contempt.

That said, speaker cable is the most sensitive area to prod on both audiophiles and audiophile reactionaries alike, because it is home to some of the most dramatic swings in price for things that, fundamentally, are doing the exact same thing: carrying an electrical current from amp to speakers. That said, as Wilson explained on Tuesday, it’s the one thing in these tests that may have the most merit. Genuine differences in electrical properties (wire thickness, manufacturing process, and the materials of the wire and its coatings all contribute to differences in capacitance, inductance and resistance) mean that cables are liable to sound different, given speakers with enough resolution to show those differences.

At play in our test was a set of $US200 cables from Monster (here, playing the unfamiliar role of bargain choice) and a pair from Tara Labs that costs a deeply stupid $US22,000, which Fremer had for review purposes.

The result: I strained to hear a difference, but did. Like I said, I was pretty busy trying to keep from shitting myself during both playbacks, but I did identify a change. And again, it was detectable most for me in the high-frequency zone: With the high-end cables, cymbals, tambourines, the high frequency bits of that crazy swirling tape-effects breakdown, all sounded perfectly isolated in the 3D space of the song and came through with crazy clarity. On the Monsters, anything in the high-end tended to blend together into a single entity that was slightly less pleasing perhaps, but still amazing.

Was the difference worth $US21,800 to me—or even Fremer? Of course not. But it’s there.

De-Magnetizer
Test Song: “Oh! Darling” by The Beatles, and others
And if you thought the other stuff was ridiculous, maybe turn away your gaze now. This is a $US1,600 platter that, once activated, neutralises the magnetism that allegedly develops over time in the metallic impurities found in vinyl’s black dye. Since the record cartridge operates with magnets, this allegedly translates to less unintended futzing with the cartridge and therefore purer sound. I say allegedly because there’s nothing in the way of firm scientific evidence that such magnetic impurities are enough to tamper with the cartridge’s signal in a meaningful way. (It should also be noted that the Furutech product in testing here is no longer to be found on Furutech’s website.)

The result: I swear to Lucifer, when listening to “Oh! Darling,” I thought I heard Paul’s voice move back a good foot or two in the soundscape once that record was de-juju’d. “Back” in a way that added clarity. Beyond that, I can’t say I heard much else.

We tried the trick on several other records, and I got nothing. Fremer claims he and his audio buddies can usually tell a difference, which is sometimes drastic, sometimes not.

You can even try for yourself if you want to. Here are two
AIFF files of Tom Waits’ “Step Right Up” (download: File 1, File 2)—both encoded directly from vinyl by Fremer on his system. (Yeah, that process alone seems enough to dispel this myth all by itself, but again, it’s a shaky claim to begin with.) One is pre-demagnetising, another is post. Can you hear a difference? I can’t. But if you have crazy gear at home, give it a try.

So as you can see, there was no hosanna moment in any of these tests, whereupon I drank any snake oil or took receipt of any ear honey. Far from it. My particular experience did not convince me to go out and spend tens of thousands of dollars chasing the minute gains that can be made in an audio system with ridiculously expensive gear. But I did hear something. By experiencing those differences first hand, I acknowledge their existence, and thus, acknowledge that people who have been listening to music at the highest possible level of quality for decades may know more than I do about the comparative sonics involved.

And the point remains, as clear as ever: Those who are listening to music at the highest level of fidelity and can discern the tiny differences at play here are doing a service—in both music production and music reproduction—to everyone who loves music everywhere.

Listening Test: It’s music tech week at Gizmodo.

Preloaded with a worldwide database of genre-sorted channels, the R227 can also be programmed with any stations it may be missing. And if you find that internet radio isn’t your thing, the R227 is still equipped with a digital FM tuner for OTA music and a line-in for your MP3 player of choice. The system will go on sale this January for $US170, otherwise you can make the trek up to Canada to score one now. [Electronista]

The satellite speakers are gesture-controlled too… which inescapably brings to mind a passage from the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy about motion-control, which saves “a lot of muscular expenditure of course, but meant that you had to sit infuriatingly still if you wanted to keep listening to the same” thing.

There is a full-function RF-remote control as an alternative though. Plus there’s a wireless dongle to let you stream music from a Mac or PC. Here’s designer Michael Young demonstrating the unit:It’s due on the shelves in early 2009, but with all that 2.4GHz wirelessness and sleek design, don’t expect the price to be cheap. [EOpstech via Core77]

By the time Blumlein’s patents were put to use–nearly twenty five years later— the prolific inventor had already passed away. In 1942, while testing radar technology, Blumein’s plane crashed in Wales and killed everyone on board. He left behind a legacy of 128 different patents, one for every six weeks of his working life.

The person in charge of restoring Blumlein’s recordings, sound engineer Roger Beardsley, called the transfers “incredibly historic.” He used digital remastering to remove crackles and hisses from 78 original pressings, allowing the recordings to sound the way they were originally meant to. Check out the BBC for a fun little video of Blumlein and colleagues walking through a room counting to demonstrate the technology. [BBC]