An unseen picture of Robbie Basho 💫

 

From the photographic-session which produced the greatest picture included in one of his late records.

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Toy for Krautrockers 💫

 

Studer C37 💫

 

After the recent summer heatwaves when also turning ON a CD player was too much, now with upcoming Fall, it’s a joy to turn on the mighty Studer C37 and enjoy the rich, luscious sound from my tapes collection, again.

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Alex de Grassi talks about his debut album on Windham Hill 💫

 

Alex De Grassi on Turning: Turning Back, his debut album, and the fourth album released on Windham Hill 

Hear Alex perform live and hear more insights at the Windham Hill 50th Anniversary Live event in Berkeley, California on November 1st. 

"By the time I got around to writing my first solo guitar pieces, which were probably in the mid-'70s, I had played in bands, I'd been in college for a couple of years and dropped out, and done a lot of things, and continued to play guitar all through that. I started to write some solo pieces, and that very first recording I made, Turning: Turning Back, was recorded in '77. I think it was just a strange mixture of all these things I had been interested in, which included everything from a little bit of rock and roll and blues, but also a lot of the British Isles folk guitar, and even a little bit of classical guitar in there. I like to think I kind of found a voice about that time for what I do now.

One of the other key elements in all that was I always felt like I was trying to narrate or tell a story, or describe what I was seeing around me. Not necessarily the way a songwriter would, where they're telling a story: this is who fell in love with who, and this is how this person came to an end. More just describing the elements. So a lot of my early pieces have titles of places I went, like Klamath, which is in Northern California and Southern Oregon, a Native American wilderness area, or "Causeway," which is taking a train across the Great Salt Lake Causeway. A lot of those pieces had that sense of place, and I think that became one of my trademarks: trying to describe, through my own experiences, the places I'd been and the way I perceived sound happening.

If you asked where that came from, I'd have to say John Fahey and Leo Kottke were big influences for me as well in those early years. But I remember thinking about this once, when I was about that age: what I really like is all the idioms of folk guitar, the hammer-ons, the pull-offs, the ringing open steel strings, those things you heard a lot in folk and country blues. But I also like the more adventurous possibilities you could find with jazz and classical harmony. So I was always trying to put those things together. It was the kitchen-sink approach, and hopefully I've been able to do that in a way that has a voice, or a style that has a coherence to it as well."

Disk of the day - Maria Muldaur sings the Blues 💫

 

A truly cool and pleasant disk by a superb performer whose voice matured like a great Barolo.

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An open-letter from Misho Myronov 🍀

 

After many years of building, learning, experimenting, and sharing this journey with wonderful people around the world, I feel that I have reached a moment when I need to reflect on the way I continue my work.

This is not an easy decision, because what I do has never been only about building audio equipment. It has always been about searching, discovering, learning, sharing, and creating a connection between people through the love of music and sound.

For many years, I have never been good at putting a value on my own work. My greatest satisfaction has always come from creating something that I truly believe in, rather than from calculating what it should cost. Looking back, I understand that I have often underestimated not only the time required for my work, but also the knowledge, experience, and dedication that stand behind every piece I create.

I built my first valve amplifier forty-eight years ago. Since then, audio has never been just a hobby or a profession. It has been a lifelong journey. Every success, every mistake, every experiment, and every unexpected discovery has become part of the experience that I bring into every new project.

The amplifiers and preamplifiers I create are not assembled from standard solutions or ready-made components chosen from a catalogue. Every part of the design has a purpose. Every decision is the result of many years of research, experimentation, measurement, and, most importantly, listening.

I deliberately follow one of the most demanding paths in tube audio. I believe in pure Single-Ended Triode circuits without negative feedback, with transformer coupling wherever it serves the music. This approach leaves very little possibility to hide imperfections. Every element becomes part of the final musical expression, and every choice matters.

Each amplifier is built individually, without shortcuts and without the mindset of a production line. There are no identical units waiting on a shelf. Every project receives my personal attention from the first idea to the final listening session. The finished amplifier carries not only components, but also the experience and decisions of the person who created it.

During almost five decades, I have developed many ideas and solutions that are entirely my own. They were not created by following ready-made recipes. They came through years of work, prototypes, failures, improvements, discussions, and an endless desire to understand music reproduction more deeply.

A significant part of this knowledge exists not in books or published designs, but in personal experience gained through many years of experimenting, listening, discussing, and learning.

My journey with transformers actually started when I was still a child. When I was around ten or twelve years old, my father was already explaining to me the fascinating and sometimes controversial nature of audio transformers—their compromises, their limitations, and the difficult balance between theory, construction, and the final musical result.

Those early conversations left a deep impression on me and planted a curiosity that has remained with me throughout my whole life.

Later, this journey continued through communication and work with talented transformer makers, as well as through countless discussions and exchanges of ideas with dear friends who are also dedicated audio builders. Every conversation, every experiment, and every shared experience has contributed something valuable.

I have been learning all my life, and I am still learning today. For me, this is one of the most beautiful parts of audio: there is always something new to discover.

This is especially true for my approach to transformer design. For me, the transformer is not simply a component placed inside an amplifier. It is one of the essential voices of the instrument itself.

Every transformer I create is developed with a specific purpose in mind. The materials, the construction, the winding approach, and the final behaviour are the result of many years of exploration and refinement. Much of this understanding comes not from theory alone, but from practical experience—building, measuring, listening, questioning, and discovering new possibilities.

During this journey, I have often found myself exploring ideas and approaches that are outside the usual paths of conventional audio design. My motivation has never been simply to be different. It has always been to understand more deeply and to find solutions that bring me closer to the musical result I am searching for.

Interestingly, I have never been strongly motivated by protecting my ideas through patents. I did patent one of my developments in the past—the crossover design—but over time my view changed.

Today, I see less value in keeping every idea locked away. My motivation has always been understanding, creating, and improving rather than building barriers around knowledge.

This is why I am still willing to openly discuss some of my recent developments, including ideas such as coreless output transformers and my line-level output transformer work. These developments represent many years of exploration, but I believe that communication and exchange of ideas are an important part of progress.

The true value is not only in a particular schematic, a winding arrangement, or a construction method. It is in the accumulated experience of understanding why something works, when it should be used, and how all the individual elements must come together to create a complete musical instrument.

For a long time, I looked mainly at the cost of materials and the hours spent building. Today, I understand that this is only a small part of the whole picture. What a person receives when choosing my work is not only an amplifier, but also forty-eight years of experience, original thinking, individually developed solutions, and the personal attention of the person who created it.

Over recent years, I have gradually reached a point where the way I work has become difficult to sustain. I find myself in a kind of bottleneck.

New ideas and new projects are constantly waiting for the time and attention they deserve, but that time is consumed by existing work. At the same time, the possibility of accepting new projects depends on developments that I have less and less time to complete.

My present work limits the time available for future development, while future development is necessary to continue improving my present work. The income from my current projects allows me to continue creating, but it does not always provide enough space for deeper research, experimentation, and exploration.

I believe this balance needs to change if I want to continue moving forward.

There is also a more personal reason. I can feel that the current pace carries a real risk of exhaustion. Perhaps I am already approaching a point where the joy, curiosity, and excitement that have always been the foundation of my work could slowly be replaced by pressure and obligation.

This is something I want to avoid.

Creating something meaningful requires not only time, but also mental space, patience, and the freedom to think, experiment, and listen.

I do not want to turn my workshop into an automatic conveyor of products. Increasing the number of amplifiers simply for the sake of producing more would inevitably mean giving less attention to each individual creation. That would go against the very reason why I chose this path.

I would rather build fewer amplifiers and make each one better.

I want to remain personally involved in every design decision, every transformer winding, every assembly detail, every listening session, and every final adjustment. I also want to preserve the time needed for new ideas, because without exploration and development there is no progress.

Equally important to me is maintaining my complete independence. I have always followed my own path, guided by my own understanding of what is right and what is wrong in audio engineering.

I have never wanted to create according to fashion, marketing expectations, or external pressure. The freedom to question accepted solutions, to experiment, and to follow my own convictions is one of the foundations of my work. I want to protect that freedom.

At the same time, I want to express my deep appreciation and respect for every person who has become part of this journey.

I deeply value everyone who has chosen my work, who is currently waiting for a project, or who is simply interested in what I do. I do not see these people only as customers. I see them as friends, at least, connected by the same curiosity and love for music.

I am always happy to communicate, discuss ideas, plan future projects, or simply share thoughts about sound and music.

Recently, I have had to refuse many requests—not because I do not appreciate the interest, but because I do not have enough time to give every person and every project the attention they deserve.

However, I remain open to communication. A conversation does not always have to become a project. Sometimes the most valuable things begin simply with two people sharing the same passion and curiosity.

The purpose of my work has never been only to build amplifiers.

My deepest wish is that these creations bring joy, emotion, and happiness into people’s lives. In my own small way, this is the most realistic contribution I can make toward making the world a little better.

Because of all these reasons, I feel that I have reached the moment when I need to rethink the way I continue my work.

This is not about creating distance, becoming exclusive, or changing the relationship with people who appreciate what I do.

It is about creating the conditions necessary to continue working in the way I believe is right: with full attention, complete independence, honesty, and the time required to create something truly meaningful.

Every amplifier I build is unique. There will never be many of them.

My time is limited, but my commitment remains unchanged.

If you feel connected to this philosophy, to this way of approaching music and craftsmanship, please do not hesitate to contact me. I am always happy to communicate, exchange ideas, discuss possibilities, or simply share our common passion for sound and music.

Not every conversation has to lead to a project. Sometimes the most valuable things begin simply with a conversation between people who share the same appreciation for music.

Let’s take care of our twogoodears 💫

 

Ear wax may not look attractive, it's your body's natural defence mechanism to lubricate and protect your ear canal and to keep harmful debris and bacteria out of the ear.

Usually, this isn't a problem as ear wax should fall out on its own, but sometimes it needs a helping hand.

If you experience any earache, difficulty hearing or a feeling of fullness in your ear, you may have a buildup of wax in the ear canal!

...and this was my very case: driving my motorbike wearing soft earplugs to mitigate wind noise, using earpods for lengthy phone calls, playing electric guitar and listening to music almost daily, all these activities augmented ear wax build-up as the body detected potentially harmful noises, and - again - ear wax protects inner ear.

As a musician and an audiophile, after every time I have a routine-ears irrigation, it's like an epiphany: all the noises are well here, BUT... as I'm doing right now, after a couple of hours since my ears treatment, I'm listening to some quiet music - actually Ralph Towner solo guitar - at home and IT'S UNBELIEVABLE WHAT AND HOW I HEAR and EVERYTHING IS SO BRAND-NEW and hyper-detailed and PERFECT!

I truly suggest every serious music lover to pay attention to their most precious musical instrument: your twogoodears!

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The origin of music 💫

 

Wood can be amazing, isn’t it?

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The Big Dummy 💫

 

Fast’n’bulbous, too!

I love Capt. Beefheart.

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Disk of the day - Andrew Cyrille Quartet on ECM (2016)

 

A truly fantastic record… a must have for Bill Frisell’s fans, as Bill is in truly impressive form on this album.

Something to be noted: the disk isn’t produced by Manfred Eicher.

The recording is first class, dynamically and spatially, and greatly supports the atmospheric and extremely nuanced music.

A joy for the 👂 👂.

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George Winston’s Autumn 💫

 

I’m listening to this marvelous disc right now: it’s not a Keith Jarrett’s clone, but a sincere, unique artist playing his gorgeous music, a music I gladly return at every Autumn comeback… and so I did for the last fifty years! 

Autumn is here. Nothing quite starts the season like the opening notes of the album that would give Windham Hill its first platinum record. 

What few people know is that "Colors/Dance," the piece that opens the album, wasn't played as the long, unbroken journey we hear.

In an interview with Will Ackerman for the upcoming anniversary concert program, he said he'd been deep into Keith Jarrett's Köln Concert at the time and loved the idea that a solo piano record could hold one long arc. So he sent George out of the room, and he and engineer Harn Soper spent a couple of hours assembling what became "Colors/Dance." While Will stepped away, Harn took it even further. When Will came back, his first reaction was surprise because it went beyond what he had imagined. Then it sank in.

Will is refreshingly honest about it. He's not sure how much of the idea was his and how much was Harn's. 

George was not happy at all at first. His piece had been reshaped. Will sat with him, talked about Jarrett, and at one point George asked, "You really like this?" Will said yes, he really did. George trusted him, listened again, and let it stand.

Nearly twenty-four minutes later, Side One of Autumn became one of the most beloved in the Windham Hill catalog, and for a lot of us, the sound of this season.

So put it on today. Where were you the first time you heard Autumn?

For more stories like this, join us at the Windham Hill 50th Anniversary Live event - a day of concerts and conversations with Will Ackerman, Liz Story, Alex de Grassi, Michael Manring, Barbara Higbie, Darol Anger, Scott Cossu, Fred Simon, and Ira Stein - November 1 at the Freight in Berkeley, CA.

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Claude Debussy meets Erik Satie 💫

 

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐊 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄 — 𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐂. 𝟏𝟗𝟏𝟎

This remarkable photograph shows 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 (𝟏𝟖𝟔𝟐–𝟏𝟗𝟏𝟖) on the left and 𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐤 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞 (𝟏𝟖𝟔𝟔–𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟓) on the right, inside Debussy’s Paris home on the 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐝𝐮 𝐁𝐨𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐞. Photographic catalogues usually date the image to around 𝟏𝟗𝟏𝟎, although some sources give 𝟏𝟗𝟏𝟏.

Its fascination lies partly in its informality. This is not a conventional studio portrait but an intimate glimpse of two composers surrounded by the furniture, books and artworks of Debussy’s home. Between them stands a conspicuous 𝐁𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐡𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 in front of the large mirror, while the reflections multiply the figures and give the room an almost theatrical depth. The object is consistent with Debussy’s well-documented interest in Asian art and culture, although the photograph itself should not be taken as evidence of any particular religious practice.

𝐃𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞 had met around 𝟏𝟖𝟗𝟏 in the bohemian world of Montmartre, probably through the 𝐀𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐝𝐮 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐮 or the circles surrounding the 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐍𝐨𝐢𝐫. Their friendship, combining admiration, humour and occasional tension, continued for more than two decades.

One of the most important episodes in their relationship occurred in 𝟏𝟖𝟗𝟔, when 𝐃𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 orchestrated two of Satie’s 𝐆𝐲𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐞́𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, Nos. 𝟏 and 𝟑. The orchestration manuscript dates from February 𝟏𝟖𝟗𝟔, and the orchestral versions were publicly performed in Paris on 𝟐𝟎 𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟖𝟗𝟕. Debussy’s intervention played an important role in bringing Satie’s music to wider attention.

By around 𝟏𝟗𝟏𝟎 the two men occupied very different positions in French musical life. Debussy was already internationally celebrated for works such as Pelléas et Mélisande and La mer, while Satie was beginning to be rediscovered by a younger generation that regarded his deceptively simple early music as remarkably prophetic.

There is also a delightful photographic connection. Another famous photograph, showing 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 with 𝐈𝐠𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐲 in Debussy’s home, was actually taken by 𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐤 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞. In that photograph one can also see evidence of Debussy’s fascination with Japanese art, including an image related to 𝐇𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐢’s Great Wave, famously associated with La mer.

The photograph therefore preserves far more than the meeting of two famous musicians. It offers a rare glimpse into the private world in which some of the most influential ideas of early twentieth-century European music were exchanged.

Thanks to Alex Rosas Navarro 

Why kids aren’t allowed into music room!

 

… at least until I won’t be passed away!

☺️

Bert Jansch’s Moonshine 💫

 

It’s a personal fave of mine and a disc which I spent some time to find, catching it for years in the Seventies…

It was a cut-off copy, same as the one showed…

I guess sales on this marvelous disc were - sadly - quite poor in the hey days.

In the next decades, I found other copies at record fairs and at second-hand shops and ALL were cut-off corner like my copy.

Genius and beauty are never big sellers.

Brian Eno’s Ambient Music

 

One afternoon in 1975, the frenetic pace of Brian Eno’s life came to an abrupt halt on the wet asphalt of a London street.

While crossing the road just after an exhausting studio recording session, he was struck by a taxi.

The impact was violent and caused severe injuries, forcing him into total immobility and a long, painful period of bed rest.

Accustomed to a mind constantly in motion and to maintaining constant control over his creativity, the musician suddenly found himself vulnerable—confined to a room and unable to perform even the simplest actions.

During his slow recovery, a friend visited him, bringing a gift: an old vinyl record of 18th-century harp music.

After she said goodbye and left the room, Brian put the record on his stereo system.

He realized almost immediately that one channel of the amplifier wasn't working and that the volume was set extremely low, making the notes barely audible.

His instinct was to get up and adjust the sound, but his physical condition made that strictly impossible.

The pain prevented him from moving out of bed to reach the stereo's controls.

He was forced to remain motionless, relinquishing control of the situation and letting the music continue to play at that barely perceptible volume.

In that enforced silence, something unexpected happened.

The faint, delicate harp notes began to blend naturally with the sounds of the outside world—the steady patter of rain against the windowpanes and the hum of the city.

The music ceased to be an isolated element demanding focused listening and became an integral part of the space—a color within the room, an atmosphere capable of enveloping the environment without imposing itself. That state of profound fragility and physical helplessness gave rise to the revolutionary concept of Ambient Music—a new way of perceiving sound not as a protagonist, but as a discreet companion in our daily lives.

Thus was born a genre destined to change the history of modern musical perception, transforming a physical limitation into a new art form.

Sometimes, it is precisely when we lose the ability to act and are forced to come to a halt that we learn to truly listen to the world around us.

Accepting our temporary limitations can become the starting point for discovering entirely unexpected perspectives, capable of transforming our weakness into a valuable asset.

Gibson J-50 (1947)

 

Here is a 1947 Gibson J-50.

This one has had a rough life, but it never gave up. There are some questionable old repairs keeping it going, yet underneath all of that is one of the most inspiring J-series Gibsons I’ve ever played.

And if it looks familiar, there’s a reason...  Bob Dylan played a ’47 J-50 just like this one.

Another neat detail: 1947 was the only year the J-50 wore this banner-less script logo, which gives these their own little spot in Gibson history.

Colorless transparency 💫

 

In response to my friend Ogawa's post about "colorless transparency," I spoke with audio enthusiasts in Hong Kong, and it seems they are also seeking "colorless transparency sound" or "original sound" in their audio systems. So, I explained why most of the people sitting here prefer wine, beer, tea, coffee, or soft drinks over water. It's because these drinks have a good taste, even if they're not healthy (laughs).

Professional audio engineers choose various types of mics and angles/distances to capture the sound of instruments. For recording, they use a wide range of preamps, equalizers, filters, compressors, and reverbs. They want to create sounds that deliver the true flavor of the "original sound" to the human ear, rather than just playing back the recorded "original sound."

Rudy Van Gelder, one of the herald of sound transparency 

As a vintage audio enthusiast, I can say that the most important value of amplifiers and speakers is not simply to reproduce sound, but that the color of the sound is always included in the audio equipment, creating sounds that are different from other devices. While many people focus on reproducing sound, I place emphasis on reproducing the music itself, and on the sound I prefer.

Thanks to Alan Leung.

Remembering Lol Coxhill 💫

 

George Lowen Coxhill (19 September 1932 – 10 July 2012) known professionally as Lol Coxhill, was an English free improvising saxophonist. He played soprano and sopranino saxophone.

Coxhill was born to George Compton Coxhill and Mabel Margaret Coxhill (née Motton) at Portsmouth, Hampshire, UK. He grew up in Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire, and bought his first saxophone in 1947. After national service he became a busy semi-professional musician, touring US airbases with Denzil Bailey's Afro-Cubists and the Graham Fleming Combo. In the 1960s he played with visiting American blues, soul and jazz musicians including Rufus Thomas, Mose Allison, Otis Spann, and Champion Jack Dupree. He also developed his practice of playing unaccompanied solo saxophone, often busking in informal performance situations. Other than his solo playing, he performed mostly as a sideman or as an equal collaborator, rather than a conventional leader – there was no regular Lol Coxhill Trio or Quartet as would normally be expected of a saxophonist. Instead he had many intermittent but long-lasting collaborations with like-minded musicians.

In the late 1960s and early 1970s, he was a member of Canterbury scene bands Carol Grimes and Delivery and then Kevin Ayers and the Whole World.

He became known for his solo playing and for work in duets with pianist Steve Miller and guitarist G. F. Fitzgerald.

He was thought to have largely inspired Joni Mitchell's song "For Free", while busking solo on the old footbridge which formed part of the Hungerford Bridge between Waterloo and Charing Cross.

Coxhill collaborated with other musicians including Mike Oldfield, Morgan Fisher (of Mott the Hoople), Chris McGregor's Brotherhood of Breath and its musical descendant The Dedication Orchestra, Django Bates, the Damned, Hugh Metcalfe, Derek Bailey, Fred Frith and performance art group Welfare State.

He lived for a while in the Digswell Arts Trust in Welwyn Garden City and was a much liked member of the commune.

He often worked in small collaborative groups with semi-humorous names such as the Johnny Rondo Duo or Trio (with pianist Dave Holland – not the bassist of the same name), the Melody Four (characteristically a trio, with Tony Coe and Steve Beresford), and The Recedents (with guitarist Mike Cooper and percussionist Roger Turner), known as such because the members were (in Coxhill's words) "all bald", though the name may additionally be a play on the American band the Residents. Typically these bands performed a mix of free improvisation interspersed with ballroom dance tunes and popular songs. There was humour throughout his music but he sometimes felt it necessary to tell audiences that the free playing was not intended as a joke.

Coxhill was compere and occasional performer at the Bracknell Jazz Festival, and a raconteur as well as a musician; he often would introduce his music by saying the words, "what I am about to play you may not understand". It was following a performance at Bracknell that he recorded the melodramatic monologue Murder in the Air.

His son Simon is a punk drummer who played with Acme Sewage Co. his daughter Claire is a vocalist and his daughter Maddie sings and plays in a ukulele band. All three children appear with their father on "I am the Walrus", one of the tracks on Ear of Beholder and later featured on The Exotic Beatles part 2.

On 26 July 2007, Coxhill married Ulrike Gertrud Scholz. They had been together since 1991.

Source: Wikipedia, photo by Andy Newcombe

A Neumann DST Heaven 💫

 

Cool turntable… BUT, the SME 3012 and Haufe BV-33 and Beyer’s SUTs are FAR from ideal match for any DST’s cartridge!

Try WE618B or TdP’s The Head TX-4, instead!

🥇

Over the years I've had close to twenty DSTs about a third were the 62 version, sonically all were incredibly consistent with almost no or very negligible sample to sample variation, irrespective of age. 

The DSTs have been my treasured and favorite cartridges for decades, had them in various tonearms on EMT 927s, Micro Seiki SX-8000 & SZ-1, Thorens Reference and finally on our own American Sound turntables like the AS2000 in the photo where they sound even more distinguished from any other cartridge I've sampled. I know their sound and character very well and unfortunately none of the tributes including the DST Heritage sounds anything remotely like a DST or DST62. 

I had the TZAR courtesy of Robin Wyatt, I was the original Lumiere distributor for US the initial samples I heard sounded excellent, not Neumann DST excellent but still very nice until production samples came out they were crap and broke after a few tracks. 

The DST Heritage sounds quite similar to the early Lumieres; pretty. The tribute cartridges have plenty of resolution, very nice tonality, color, range and depth but they're not anywhere near a real Neumann DST. The DSTs are very neutral, natural and honest, their sound also also has mass and solidity like real instruments no other cartridge even comes close. The DST 62 shares the gravitas of the DST but with slight softness and tonal character closer to that of a modern MC cartridge. That's what I hear from the DST Heritage, it's high end modern cartridge with a pretty tonality like most but more natural than some of the recent Asian offerings but aside from the packaging it has nothing in common with a Neumann DST or even the DST62.

Thanks to David Karmeli for above pictures and text 🙏💫🙏

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Leon Redbone and his Gibson CF-100 💫

 

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