转一段老外HIFI杂志的评论
联接在这里http://www.uhfmag.com/Issue59/Ikemi.html
The Linn Ikemi
Inside this black box lie forces you wouldn’t suspect.
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Hardly anyone resisted the digital audio revolution with more confidence than Scotland's most famous audiophile company, Linn Products, but that's hardly surprising from a company that made its reputation with a turntable. Over the years the company has kept the faith on analog (the LP-12 turntable remains a formidable contender), but it long ago turned its attention to digital. As we know, it was worth the wait.
Linn's awesome flagship CD player, the CD-12 -- which shares the legendary "Sondek" nickname with the turntable -- was on the cover of UHF No. 56. It outperformed our reference player, not on one or two discs but on recording after recording. It was as close to a flawless product as we had ever tested, and we could deplore only that its price (C$29,000) would make its acquisition a mere dream for most audiophiles.
At that time, Linn people had told us that the CD-12 was the product of a long and arduous research program which had taught the company a great deal about the flaws in existing digital players. They added that the other two new players (the Ikemi and the Genki, both reviewed here) were the product of what had been learned.
To be frank we took this with a few dram of sodium chloride. The more expensive of the two machines, the Ikemi, costs barely more than the sales tax on a CD-12, and it shares none of that player's tactile visual elegance. Indeed, its black box could be that of any of the products Linn has produced in the past eight years. And frankly the company's record in streamlining its best technology has not always been sterling.
But then we heard the Ikemi, and we understood the claim.
The architecture of the player is essentially similar to that of the CD-12. The transport is nearly centred in the box, with the converter and the analog circuitry to the left and rear and the power supply to the right. As with the CD-12 (and all other recent Linn products), the power supply is not the usual big-transformer job. It is what is known as a "switching" power supply. It manufactures very high frequency AC, which is then turned into DC for the player's circuits much more efficiently, without shoving noise back into the power line. More on this shortly.
The CD-12 and Linn's earlier flagship, the Karrik, both had the distinction of using a company-designed transport mechanism. Not everyone realizes how rare that is. A small number of manufacturers make transports for nearly all the world's players. Philips is the maker of choice for most audiophile players, though others use transports from Sony, Teac and Pioneer. But open up the Ikemi, as we did (see the picture in our print issue), and you'll see a round label with Linn's logo, marked 100%. This is an in-house product. There's not very much to it, perhaps illustrating the elegance of simplicity, but the workmanship leaps out at you.
You don't need to remove the Linn's cover to appreciate that workmanship, either. Push the "open" button on the front panel or the remote control, and listen to the silky whisper as the aluminum alloy drawer slips out. It makes other players, even expensive ones, seem clunky.
The command panel on the front left is of course familiar: you've seen it on Linn preamps, integrated amps, tuners, and even the multi-room system. Its use is not as intuitive as it could be (since the buttons tend to resemble each other), but you quickly learn where everything is. As on other components, the command panel contains a microprocessor, allowing you to program it to your taste. Do you want the display to shut off (except for two green "cat's eyes") or do you want information always present? Do you want to give priority to the track number, the time elapsed, or the time remaining? Do you want the machine to go into play mode when it is powered up, so you can add a timer and wake up to music? Do you want to disable the remote control (so that the commands go to the multi-room system instead)? All of these preferences can be programmed in...and a lithium battery keeps your preferences safe for the next decade!
We did wish that the screen provided more information -- the track number and the time, for instance. We also wish that Linn would modernize its remote control system, which works like those of the very first VCR's. Try to punch in track 13, and you'll actually get track 3...the correct procedure is to push 1 and hold it in until the screen reads "1--" and then push the 3. On the other hand, if you push the 3 because you want track 3 but you hold it in because the player doesn't seem to be responding, the Ikemi will assume you want track thirty-something.
The remote itself could use rethinking too. It has buttons for everything Linn makes except the turntable, but the organization of the buttons needs work. If it were ours, we would train a universal remote to learn its codes.
The rear panel includes the usual complement of connectors: an AES/EBU digital out, plus a TOSLINK optical output (okay if you don't use it), and the usual connectors for Linn's "Knekt" multi-room system. There are three analog outputs: two sets of RCA jacks plus XLR jacks for balanced lines. Curiously, there is a jack marked "sync," to allow two-way communication with the now discontinued Numerik converter. It's not clear to us why anyone would buy an Ikemi and use it with a Numerik. Morbid curiosity perhaps?
The Ikemi's appearance can be a little disconcerting to those used to other high end CD players, because it is so small. When we broke it in on the shelf where our reference player usually lives, it seemed lost, like a Miata parked in a space reserved for a Peterbilt. Lifting it is even more disconcerting, because it weighs like a book...and not a very big book either. No effort has been made to distinguish the Ikemi from other Linn products. For that reason, it seems totally unrelated to the elegantly-sculpted CD-12.
Actually listening to it, however, is another matter.
If you've read the other reviews in this issue, you'll be aware that the first disc in our series (Strauss's Ein Heldenleben on Reference Recordings RR-83CD) is so complex that it is nearly impossible to reproduce so it doesn't sound like hi-fi. Richard Strauss's vast orchestral forces are of course a challenge for the entire system, including the amplifier and the speakers, but most CD players muck it up too. Not so the Ikemi.
Right from the opening notes we were impressed. The cellos and double basses positively growled, just as they do in a very good concert hall. With our reference player the huge orchestra had seemed constricted, the individual instruments squeezed together into porridge, but now they had the space needed to expand. Even the strings were individually audible, no longer an undifferentiated mass. The brass instruments were much easier on the ear, even when they played in a large group. "I'm not a fan of Richard Strauss," said Reine, "but with this player the recording gives you access to the richness of his music."
Of course, getting the extreme frequencies right isn't the whole game. If all of the frequency bands are not in balance, instrumental timbres can be altered beyond recognition. Our next recording (the Rossini Cavatina from The Barber of Seville, from The Magnificent Steinway, Golden String GSCD031) is a tough test for accuracy of timbre. The Steinway piano has a sound quite distinct from that of a Baldwin or a Yamaha, and it should remain identifiable.
It did, and our in-house pianist, Reine, who is a Steinway fan, pronounced the sound impeccable. The piano seemed more distant than it had been with our reference (contrary to the Moon, which had actually brought it closer), but at no cost in detail, which was finer than ever. The rhythm was light and quick, and the notes were so well detached that at times we got the impression we were listening to two pianos rather than just one. The impact was excellent, yet the notes didn't sound excessively percussive, as they do with lesser players. "Rossini would have liked this," said Albert. "You run out of words."
Oh, and did we mention the depth? We just knew that our next recording would turn out all right. It's Antiphone Blues, not the legendary version on Proprius, but the HDCD-encoded gold disc on FIM CD003. Because the saxophone and organ were recorded in a vast church, this recording projects an uncanny feeling of space...though some CD players manage to make it sound as though it had been done in a large closet.
The Ikemi's rendition was flawless in every way. The organ was full, rich, deep and downright gorgeous. Arne Domnérus's saxophone was at once richly textured and smooth. The spaciousness was everything it should be. Would even the LP match this performance?
We wondered the same thing with Things'll Be Better, You'll See from Doug McLeod's wonderful blues recording, You Can't Take My Blues (Audioquest AQHD1041). The HDCD version of the recording (now discontinued, alas) has the sort of clarity that virtually lets you go up and touch the musicians, and now it was better than ever. The space was not only palpable, it was nearly measurable. The timbre of McLeod's guitar was so well-balanced it was completely believable. Everything was as it should be: the voice, the kick drum, the brush on the snare, even the tiny shimmer of the cymbal. Above all there was a presence that made the illusion perfect.
Would the Ikemi do as well with discs that did not include HDCD encoding? Of course. We ended the session with the Irving Berlin song I Got Lost in His Arms from Margie Gibson's Say It With Music (Sheffield CD-36. This is a revealing test for several reasons. Gibson's smooth and emotional voice can easily turn ugly, with an annoying high end and sibilants that could come from Black & Decker. The cello and the bass can dry up and even run together. Lincoln Mayorga's grand piano can metamorphose into a cheap electronic keyboard. The depth (admittedly limited -- this is not a purist stereo recording) can shrink to a silly millimeter. The result is that the highly-charged emotion of the song can drain away.
It says a lot that the three of us combined wrote only a single word (the word was "delicious" -- and never mind the author). The Ikemi had done nothing less than erase the tiny little electronic artifacts that stand between the listener and the music. There was a magical presence to Gibson and her musicians that made us hold our collective breath. The song passed in a flash.
"Oof!" said Albert, though not before the echo of the last piano note had died away from the distant walls of that recreated studio.
Before we packed in the session (reluctantly as you can imagine), we wanted to try one more test. Linn's Canadian distributor had sent us a message urging us not to use the player with any power cord other than the one supplied. It wasn't obvious why, since the cord appeared to be the usual $3 molded cable. The next day we got an e-mail message from a reader who owns an Ikemi. He had bought some Wireworld Stratus power cords from us, and discovered that they transformed the sound of his system...with the exception of the Ikemi. With the Stratus, he told us, the Linn player sounded shrill and unpleasant. What in the world was going on?
We had done our listening tests with Linn's own power cable, but we went through the last song again, this time with a Stratus power cord in place. What would happen?
Less than we thought in fact.
The player certainly didn't become shrill. Indeed, it didn't really become anything. The Margie Gibson song sounded virtually identical to the way it had been, and even after listening twice we couldn't agree on whether there really was a difference, let alone whether it was an improvement or a deterioration. That much surprised us, however, because we usually advise audiophiles to upgrade the power cord of the CD player (or the DAC in the case of a two-box player) before any other.
This is not an ordinary player, however. Remember the presence of the switching power supply, which works totally differently from the conventional transformer-rectifier-filter setup found in nearly all audio gear. We know that power cords often act as radiating antennas for digital data, which then gets where it shouldn't...and sometimes as a receiving antenna too. The Stratus, like other high end power cords, is shielded to prevent that. Linn claims that its switching supply is simply not vulnerable to the antenna effect.
Of course the Stratus has another advantage too: superior connectors (including a Hubbell hospital grade AC plug) at each end. A better contact with the power line is always a Good Thing.
After the Ikemi's stunning performance on music, we were expecting great results with test tones too...and we were mostly right, though we were in for one more surprise.
We began with 100 Hz square wave at full level, which you can see on the photo above. It was very good, well-shaped with a small amount of well-damped ringing, but some traces of unexpected noise. Where was that noise coming from? The big surprise came when we tried to read the low-level sine wave (1 kHz, 60 dB below maximum level), and we got the oscilloscope trace shown in the picture below: plenty of noise, no sine wave. The noise continued even when we stopped the player. There's something we had never seen before!
But this is strictly a technical artifact, and the noise is not in any way audible. It clearly emanates from the Linn's switching power supply, and it is above 40 kHz (each marking of the grid represents 10 mS). It is common for switching supplies to produce noise, and indeed we have seen (or rather heard) supplies that produced an all-too-audible whining sound. Linn has run its power supply at very high frequency, to keep any resulting noise from contaminating the audio band. Despite the alarming oscilloscope image, the player is subjectively dead quiet.
Jitter is very low, though we could see it increase somewhat, along with some deformation of the signal waveform, on a test band that had deliberately been sliced through by a 1 mm wide laser beam. However the Ikemi continued to give reasonable results even with far worse errors: it took a 2.5 mm slice to produce uncorrected noise bursts and intermittent muting.
It would have been interesting to do a direct comparison between the Ikemi and its big sibling (at six times the price), the CD-12. Our impression when we reviewed the CD-12 was that it outperformed any other player we had ever heard regardless of price. But our further impression with the Ikemi was that there wasn't much out there at any price that could stand up to it. Seen in that light, the "high" price of the Ikemi begins to look like a bargain.
If such a bargain is out of the question, then by all means turn the page and check out the next review, which you'll no doubt find enlightening. But the Ikemi is a unit worth saving up for.
Albert was especially happy with what he had heard. "I think," he said, "that I've found my player."
Model: Linn Ikemi
Price: C$5000, about US$3600
Dimensions: 32 x 33 x 8 cm
Warranty: 5 years, transferable
Most liked: Stupendous performance in a tiny package
Least liked: Dated control system
Verdict: What's an Ikemi? Why not the Linn CD-111/2?
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CROSSTALK
A remarkable spatial image! Perfect coherence! Supreme balance!
I've mentioned elsewhere that the first recording in this test series, the Bruckner, is highly complex. And to tell the truth I don't like it much. So many instruments playing at once...it's difficult to render properly. It's as though the notes were crowding one another, and you have to force yourself to listen intently (but it's necessary, to be fair to the equipment tested).
But with the Ikemi I liked the piece! A lot! All that had seemed confused was now orderly, and allowed me to discover the true beauty of this work. The immense depth no doubt helped, as did the extraordinarily large and spacious image, which placed some air around the huge orchestra.
The last time I had experienced this sort of miracle it was with cables, and I hadn't forgotten it.
The sound is generally limpid, without hardness. The musical microinformation that transmits voice effects, inflections and modulations is perfectly reproduced, as are those that transmit emotions, striking dynamic contrasts, accelerations and crescendos. The bottom end is full. Transients are quick but never aggressive. The impact is remarkable.
I was so charmed I had difficulty making notes. I was tempted to drop my pen and my notebook, put my head back against the chair, close my eyes and enjoy.
And I did. So what you're reading, I've written from memory.
--Reine Lessard
Today, we invited Margie Gibson and Doug McLeod to come down and sing for us during our listening tests. They were here, weren't they ?
That's how I felt after listening to music played on the Ikemi. What do you say after you attend a live concert? You don't say "Wow, did you notice all the details?" or "Hey, great depth!" No, you talk about the music and the performers. That's exactly what I wanted to do after each piece we listened to.
The Strauss appeared as a complex weave of countless, rich orchestral textures, Doug McLeod shamelessly bared his emotions and Margie Gibson fell in love right in front of us.
Actually the Ikemi didn't do any of that, of course, it merely revealed what was there in the first place. With its inherent transparency it didn't stand in the way -- and, for any audio component that is the most difficult task, and a designer's highest goal.
--Albert Simon
It's strange, looking at and listening to this player, because the image and sound seem to be strangely out of sync. The look says "good little player for the price," but the sound...
I think it isn't really as good as the CD-12, but you can't prove it by looking at our notes. Like the CD-12, it gives you the impression that finally, after so many false hopes and broken promises, you are hearing everything that has been put on the record.
There are other good, even excellent, players, but the Ikemi is one of those truly superb products that comes along only now and then.
--Gerard Rejskind
(See the review of the less expensive Linn Genki in our print edition.)
