The albums have been remastered by a team of EMI's Abbey Road Studios in London, using original vintage analog equipment and the latest digital conversion systems. After a long time of initial testing, the digital transfer of the original analogue master tapes was done—one track at a time—using a Prism A-D converter and Pro Tools operating at 24-bit with 192kHz resolution. The tapes didn't have any defects, but they were covered with dust, which had to be carefully removed from the playback equipment after each theme was digitized.

The teams—Paul Hicks, Sean Magee with Guy Massey and Steve Rooke for the mono albums, and Guy Massey, Steve Rooke, Sam Okell with Paul Hicks and Sean Magee for the stereo ones—put extra care on keeping every single bit of detail from the original tapes intact, including electrical clicks, microphone pops, and even bad edits. The whole process was painfully long, four entire years from start to finish, with the teams obsessed with keeping the spirit and quality of the original recordings intact.

I can't wait to listen to these:

The Stereo Albums (available individually and collected in a stereo boxed set)
• Please Please Me* (CD debut in stereo)
• With The Beatles* (CD debut in stereo)
• A Hard Day's Night* (CD debut in stereo)
• Beatles For Sale* (CD debut in stereo)
• Help!*
• Rubber Soul*
• Revolver*
• Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band* (also includes 1987 notes, updated, and new intro by Paul McCartney)
• Magical Mystery Tour*
• The Beatles*
• Yellow Submarine* (also includes original US liner notes)
• Abbey Road*
• Let It Be*
• Past Masters (contains new liner notes written by Kevin Howlett)

* CD includes QuickTime mini-doc about the album

‘The Beatles in Mono' (boxed set only)

• Please Please Me
• With The Beatles
• A Hard Day's Night
• Beatles For Sale
• Help! (CD also includes original 1965 stereo mix)+
• Rubber Soul (CD also include original 1965 stereo mix)+
• Revolver+
• Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band+
• Magical Mystery Tour+
• The Beatles+
• Mono Masters

+ mono mix CD debut

All the CD packages contain the original vinyl artwork—like mini-LPs—with liner notes, historical and recording notes, plus plenty of archival photos. They will be released on September 9. You can pre-order the stero box from Amazon for $180, but no price yet for the mono collection

My card is ready. [The Beatles and Amazon (Stereo) and Amazon (Mono box, limited edition)]

I was only a little bit older than when I confused my father's records for frisbees that would shatter when they hit the fireplace's brick mantle.

Soon after, I got my own Fisher Price record player—since I was not allowed to play with daddy's anymore— with an indestructible needle that would always collect lots of dust bunnies before I had to clean it up. It had a cover with a handle on it, making it portable. For some reason, it was brown. I'd played plenty of Disney records on it, like disco duck, but Thriller was my first piece of pop chart Americana. The album cover folded out and showed MJ coddling a baby tiger, and the songs were written in a pink-red cursive on the back. Epic was the record label, if I recall.

Quincy Jones helped produce it, and Michael Jackson's concept was to make every song on the record a hit. I suppose that's why it's the best selling album of all time, at its height selling over 1m records a week. They wrote 300 songs for the album, whittling the list down to the final set, with Billie Jean only just making the cut. (MJ liked it, Quincy thought not so highly of it.)

I'd listen to it over and over again, but saved the Thriller for when my brother Jonathan was around. We'd queue up the song, and quickly dart under a blanket, to protect us from the zombies we'd seen on MTV. We were genuinely scared of that song, even more scared then when that dude would pull the heart out of that guy's chest in Temple of Doom a few years later at my first movie. When actor Vincent Price's voice came on with the monologue, it was fun to tear the blanket off my brother, tucking it under my sides as he tried to get back inside before the imaginary undead cracked his bones in his teeth and drank his marrow. I laughed in accord with Vincent Price's cackling, little brother Jonathan, squealing, making an easy sacrifice to the lords of the dark.

Billie Jean was an early education that women would sometimes claim you were their children's father. And that sidewalks could be backlit.

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.

And Beat It was the other song that was musically gripping but also fashionably inspirational.

Then, and in more recent decades.

It's just a shame the jacket's zipper pockets were totally just zippers, no pockets. Except one or two which were a mistake to put things in, because you'd lose stuff in the sea of XYZ.

[Michael Jackson's Official and Totally Not Embeddable YouTube Channel]

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

While Matt and I explained some of the mysteries of audio cables and loudspeakers, Mahoney tried to explain something far more complicated: the mind of an audiophile, following that with a taste of the craziest audiophile gear.

Speaking of gear, Herrman gave us a look at some of the prettiest ever seen (but not always heard), and then, at the other end of the cost spectrum, Adrian tested the newest iPod/iPhone docks, picking winners in different price points.

It got personal at times. Blam shared the tragic tale of his sweet boomin' bass system. Most of the guys talking about their first album, while I go off on a tangent about the packaging my first albums came in. Jesus told us all why The Beatles sound better in mono.

Meanwhile, you readers shared your own sound systems, 130 rigs we should all envy, and we all reminisced over 10 of the greatest geek rock videos of all time.

In the end, Adrian drove it home with a rant on how tech changed the way we listen to music, while Herrman provided illustration for that, in the form of a timeline of audio formats, from wax cylinders to digital downloads.

We covered a lot of ground, more even than I could recap above. Hopefully you got a kick out of it, and that you'll be ready for our next crazy theme week. [Gizmodo Listening Test]

If you saw our feature earlier in the week, you know Michael Fremer is crazy about vinyl. He's been defending its merits ever since digital formats started to surface, and has published several DVDs detailing how best to set up a number of nice audiophile turntables.

But of course, you don't have to have to have an audiophile turntable to enjoy vinyl—great used tables like the Technics SL-D202 I got in high school (pictured) can be picked up all over the internet, at garage sales or from your Dad's basement for very little dough, and will serve you well as long as they're in decent shape.

Plus, with tons of record labels including a free digital download with the purchase of an album on vinyl these days, it's a great way to give back to your favorite artists—you'll get a cool tangible object that has the potential to sound far better than your MP3s, but with a digital copy for you iPod nonetheless.

So if you have a turntable that's never received a proper tune-up, here's how to set it up to get the best possible sound from it. With Fremer's help, my table is now in tip-top shape, and yours can be too.

What you'll need:
• The manual for your turntable and cartridge (the part with the needle attached)
• A 2mm Allen/Hex wrench for the cartridge screws (most are 2mm, anyway)
• A ruler
• Magnifying glass and flashlight (not essential, but makes things easier)
• Needle-nose pliers or tweezers
• A printout of a standard cartridge alignment ruler (available at vinylengine.com for free)

First thing's first, though—if you're unsure of the progeny of your table, or if it hasn't been serviced in a long time or ever, the easiest upgrade you can make to ensure it's at its best is a new cartridge. This part is almost solely responsible for the sound generated by your table, and you can get a very good new cartridge for less than $100 (try Shure's M97XE for a good one in the $90 ballpark, but there are cheaper options as well).

After that, there are three variables you want to make sure are set, and those are the three variables we'll be covering: cartridge alignment, tracking pressure and anti-skating. While there are tons of other adjustments that can be made, with some tables having more calibration options than others, these three are fairly universal and will get you in the ballpark of calibration, which is much better than fresh-from-the-dusty-garage.

Let's get started!

Tracking Pressure
This is what the weight on the back of your tonearm is for—it controls how much pressure is put on the stylus as it tracks the record's grooves. This should be set according to what's suggested in your cartridge's manual. Google around for your cartridge make and model and you should be able to find the manual, or your turntable manual may suggest a baseline range. Again, Vinyl Engine is a great resource for manuals.

1. If you're installing a new cartridge, connect the red, blue, green and white wires to the corresponding marked terminals on the back of the cartridge. If they're too loose and fall off the pins, put a toothpick inside wire clips and tighten it with the pliers. Once it's hooked up, loosely screw the cartridge into the headshell (we'll be adjusting its alignment later) with your hex screwdriver.

2. Set the turntable's anti-skating dial to zero, then turn the weight on the back of the arm just up until the point the tonearm floats on its own. Then, by turning the part of the weight with the gauge but not the entire weight, set the gauge back to zero to "re-zero" the weight.

3. Now, turn the entire weight to the number (in grams) specified by your cartridge's manual. If it specifies a range, stick it in the middle.

4. If you're feeling like getting serious, you can buy a specialized tracking pressure gauge that will tell you the exact pressure. But for most folks, the guidelines on the tonearm's weight are fine—mine was almost exactly correct when measured with Fremer's digital gauge (as you can see in the picture).

Cartridge Alignment
Ideally, a tonearm would track across the record from the beginning to the end in a straight line across the surface, so that the stylus was perpendicular to the groove at all times, thus keeping distortion to an absolute minimum. But since the turntable arm is fixed, it traces a parabola across the surface of the record as you play it. Mathematically, the parabola arc has two points where the stylus should be sitting perfectly perpendicular to the groove. These are the points we'll use to set the alignment.

But you don't have to be Pythagoras Jr. to plot them—thankfully, there are protractor PDFs you can print out which will mark the approximate position of these points on most turntables. There are also PDFs for specific tone arms and turntables floating around—Google your model to see, but you should be served just fine by the standard approximation provide by the basic print outs at Vinyl Engine. (We're using a glass version here in the photo, but the paper ones are fine).

1. Many turntable manuals specify an ideal distance from the back of the headshell to the tip of the stylus, so consult your table's manual and screw in the cartridge into the headshell's adjustable slots so this measurement is correct.

2. Now, place your alignment protractor on the platter, and carefully drop the stylus tip onto the first alignment point. The goal is for the cantilever (the metal part that extends down from the cartridge with the stylus tip on the end) to be parallel with the guidelines on the printout. If it's not, loosen one of the screws in the headshell and move it back or forward slightly. This is where a magnifying glass and flashlight can be handy, as the clearance between the bottom of the cartridge and the platter may be slim.

3. Once it's aligned in the first point, test it on the second point. Both are mathematically determined, so it should be aligned on the second point too. If not, try to find a happy medium.

Anti-Skating
Most turntables have an anti-skating dial somewhere. This setting counteracts the vector force that naturally pulls the stylus tip toward the inner lip of the groove as the record spins, because as mentioned before, you want it to track dead-center whenever possible.

1. All you have to do is turn the anti-skating knob so that the number matches the tracking pressure you set earlier. Fremer likes to set it a quarter of a gram or so less, which he feels is more accurate than the scales provided on most turntables. So do that.

More Tips
• Keep your turntable on as sturdy a surface as possible—this will prevent it from warbling or skipping if you walk/dance around near it.

• Keep your stylus and records clean. You can get very inexpensive tools for cleaning both of these parts, and it will keep everying sounding great and will prevent your records from wearing out too quickly.

And that's it. For more info, check out Fremer's calibration DVDs, which many vinyl junkies swear by.

Hope you guys enjoyed our Listening Test audio week as much as we did. If you have any other advice or tips to share, please do so in the comments, and if you're interested, check out last week's audio-related How To on maintaining a lossless music library. Have a great weekend listening everybody!

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

The History

Admittedly, new music formats have always changed the way we listen to music. However, I don't think any have had such an effect over the last 60 years as the move to MP3 and other digital file formats. The advent of the 45 RPM single in the 50s is arguably the first big shift in the way popular music was consumed. Records went from longer-playing 78s and 33s, to the cheaper 45 format, which carried two or three songs on a disc, and became much more accessible for mass consumption. Soon, every big pop artist was releasing their big hits on 45s, and this became the main mode of consumption.

Then came cassettes, which shrank down the record onto magnetic film and brought the long-playing album back into vogue. Cassingles also remained popular among consumers, but the idea of the album as the main purchase was gaining steam again because tapes were more durable and easier to store. It also made it possible for people to record their own mixes very easily.

But the problem with all these analog formats is that they wore down and degraded over time. Vinyl lost it's sound quality the more you played it, scratched easily, and storing it in the wrong place climate would warp it's shape. Tapes would sound muffled over time, and the actual tape could easily be spooled out from the cassette.

Enter the Compact Disc. Created as a way to prevent the degradation of sound over time, the compact disc ushered in the digital era of music, but it wasn't without complaints. Audiophiles said the sound was cold and sterile, and purists worried about the idea you could skip around the album order so easily, that albums were meant to be listened to sequentially, and not on one-track repeat for hits. It also wasn't impervious, still liable to scratching and subsequent choppy playback. Still, it was the best available option to get music to consumers, until the MP3.

Too Much Music

Sometimes, I feel the rise of MP3s made music too easy to obtain. Instead of taking time to appreciate good work, we now devour as much music as we possibly can. My music collection feels increasingly impersonal, to the point that I have albums I've forgot I downloaded. Sometimes I'll listen to an album I like just once, and never touch it again. Why?

Because at any given time, I have about 10-20 other new albums I'm wanting to check out. There's just not enough time to give every album the same attention, and when you try to really get into a handful of albums, you miss out on 100 other new releases.

The MP3 era is enabling the music junkie's futile quest to stay up on all music, at all times.

But that's not to say it's all bad. Albums that used to take me months to track down in the past can be found with a few minutes of google ingenuity. I've been able to listen to artists I might have only known by name in the past, and not have to wait for corporate America to make their music accessible to the masses.

Narrowing Tastes

Despite the greatly enhanced variety of music available to the average music listener, I feel like people's tastes are actually narrowing, more than they're branching out. Sure, the hardcore music fan will go out and dig out obscure artists in 20 different genres. But for the casual indie rock fan, it's just as easy to go out and find 20 other bands who sound just like Sigur Ros.

As a result, you find people digging deeper into genres that they really like, while ignoring the access they have to so many other great genres. The rise of internet forums and communities based around certain kinds of music have only helped listeners to identify with other like-minded individuals and firmly entrench themselves.

However, the rise of unclassifiable, genre-free music this decade would seem to go against my notion of narrowing tastes. Fans have embraced musicians who pull from a variety of seemingly unrelated influences, and reassemble the parts into a whole new beast.

Artists as big as Timbaland, as small as the Avalanches, as weird as Flying Lotus, or as colorful as M.I.A have all made a name for themselves by consciously ignoring the boundaries of genre. And as a result, I've seen myself and many of my friends digging into genres, past and present, they previously had ignored. We're better music fans because of this.

The Death of the Album, The Rise of Musical A.D.D.

I blame the iPod. Before MP3s, when you wanted to listen to something, you at least had to insert a complete album, or at least take the time to piece together a mixtape. Tracklists meant more back then, because it was more difficult to rearrange the order (save for the skip/shuffle functions).

These days, you can crap out whatever you want into an unfocused playlist and take it on the go. Add or subtract songs in a matter of seconds, it's a thought-free process. There's no need to give a whole album the time of day anymore when you can just add your favorite. We all have Musical A.D.D.

But the truth is, I'm just being a paranoid purist. When CDs first came out, vinyl purists lamented how too many tracks were packed into the 74-minute capacity discs, and how easily people could just switch from track to track. Before that, the entire pop music culture was formed around 45 RPM singles in the 50s and 60s.

So while the crotchety old man in me wants to say that we need to preserve the complete album, the truth is that it's significance among music fans has always changed and evolved.

As much I want to say MP3s have ruined all our listening habits, the truth is, they've just pushed us into the next wave of music culture. Maybe it means the album tracklist really is dead. Maybe I'll only listen to a complete album once or twice from here on out. Or maybe it just means people need to start making more interesting albums worthy of such attention.

The daddy and junior pic is a winner.

[Submit your photos]

They're guilty, you can't argue that they're not. They broke the rules set by the Establishment. But the technology is based on crowdsourcing, and as surely as we download, we seed, and so we're all guilty.

I don't do it regularly. And I support movies and music I think deserve to be supported. But I can't argue that I'm not also guilty.

But I will argue that this guy is a dick:

Speaking to the BBC, the chairman of industry body the International Federation of the Phonographic Industry (IFPI) John Kennedy said the verdict sent out a clear message.

"These guys weren't making a principled stand, they were out to line their own pockets. There was nothing meritorious about their behaviour, it was reprehensible."

We stole, but I think the Pirate Bay did make a stand.

I can afford to buy my content, unlike when I was a brokeass in college. But I still steal when I don't want to spend 45 minutes going to a movie theater and waiting in line or paying 10 bucks for 10 ounces of stale popcorn, or when there's no way I'm going to pay for a movie, or when I can't find back catalog listings I desperately want. I live by our pirate code, and will always support the artists I believe in. For example, I am saving Watchmen and Wolverine for the big screen for the quality and to support the artists. But Transporter 3 is a piece of junk I decided I needed to watch one night, stoned, with no other entertainment in sight. Same for Punisher: War zone. I end up watching the first 20 minutes of a lot of shitty films, and then shutting them off—it's just something I do. And if I couldn't pirate them, I'd never see them at all. But I'm getting off point.

The crux of it is that I just don't want to be told when to watch them, how to watch them, and what to watch them on. I'd say that for a lot of people, that's the case. Sure, some people just steal because they don't want to or can't pay, but a lot of people are just waiting for the official distribution model to be just as slick as BitTorrent.

Look at how popular iTunes became. That system thrived because it provided a great mainstream experience, even while limewire/napster were free and thriving. Or look at Hulu now. I don't have to go to BitTorrent for a TV show—new or old—if it's on something as amazing and easy-to-use as Hulu. (And some studies show that people are migrating from torrent to streaming, when it's viable.) I just don't want to have to be told I have to wait to see movies on my computer/phone in some crippled way, weeks later. For me, it's about speed, and ultimately convenience and experience, above all else. I don't get that at the megaplex, no matter how much they want me to line their pockets with popcorn and gummibear money.

I know there are business oriented reasons to keep theaters running ahead of the iTunes releases. Those reasons are often synonymous with reasons for keeping the control of how we enjoy our content in the hands of those who distribute it. I mean, Lost is on public TV and it's on ABC.com, for free, in high def even, but people still download the hell out of that show, probably because their countries are a season or two behind, or the convenience still outstrips what's available to them. The Pirate Bay is closer to that solution than the establishment is. And so I disagree with International Federation of the Phonographic Industry's stance that the Pirate Bay did nothing good. They did nothing good for the winners of this court case, but they are state of the art for media distribution, and producers should learn how to work with the world as it is now, instead of trying to deny reality.

Eventually, this will work itself out. The internet is going to connect producers and viewers together without a thinner distribution middleman. Somehow. Someday.

For now, I plead guilty. So lock me up, because I'm a pirate, too.

And if you feel the same way I do, make a pirate hat, take a photo of yourself wearing it with or without an eyepatch, parrot, cardboard sword, and post it somewhere, anywhere, and declare yourself a pirate.

UPDATE: Not that this changes the issues at hand, but now I feel unbelievably guilty now that I've admitted I've stolen some media. I'm going to go through and see what I've downloaded without paying for, and pay whatever I haven't already paid for or own on another format. Promise.

[How to build a pirate hat out of newspaper]

As Prefix's Andrew Winistorfer points out, this video plays out like a giant homage to the group. The emotionless computer music making is a nod to Kraftwerk's live sets, where they meticulously assemble their songs bit by bit. Titles like Mini Van Highway are a nod to classics such as Trans Europe Express and Autobahn. Even the robotic lyrics are a spot-on facsimile of the Kraftwerk style. Plus, how can you not love the beige Windows 3.0 machines? So good. [The Walrus via Daily Swarm via Prefix]

And as a bonus bit, Kraftwerk performing "The Robots," live in 1978.

Screw it, their 1981 performance of Pocket Calculator is so rad too, I cant help but include it.

The only song my mom ever played off of Guns N' Roses Use Your Illusion I was "November Rain." And she always turned it off before what I later discovered was the good part: When the horns and strings kicked in as Slash dances on top of the piano, ripping into the solo as Axl moans like a wounded cat. This would not surprise you, given that her favorite artist was Rod Stewart.

I was actually really disappointed when I put it in my Sony boombox for the first time. Before my mom was my mom, she cared about things like her stereo system. She got it in the late 70s, I think. It's in storage now. But whenever I heard music at home, it was on this massive system through these four giant speakers that were two feet tall, with a pair stacked on either side of the entertainment center. You could only crank it up to 1, because it was so loud. Past that, the neighbors bitched.

It's probably been six years since I've heard Slash's squealing guitar on that stereo, or anything else, that still makes me giddy.

It's really too bad that, as the $1000 speakers offer a measly 10Wx2 channels of sound, I'd leave the scene with little more than a few scratches. But in that case, I'd just default to plan B—poisoning myself with a toxic intake of homogenized cheese—which is still a pretty good way to go in my book. [Akihabara News via DVICE]

It's not uncommon for companies to ask about using quotes in ads—seen any Sprint or G1 spots lately?—which is fine. But it's not cool to use them without permission, even if Dr. Dre's Beats are pretty decent cans and yes, there is some difference in audio cables.

Engadget does have an endorsement for Monster now though: "Monster Cable sucks." Way to live up to your rep, Monster, as a pretty douchey company.

Update: Monster Cable has pulled the quote, but are still douches. [Engadget]

Tesla coils have always been a popular instrument for nerdy conductors. Not surprisingly, the arrangement of choice is usually one of two songs: The Imperial March or the theme song to Super Mario Bros. [March and Mario]

Inside you burns the heart of a great musician—but you never learned how to play conventional instruments. However, as a gadget fanatic you are a natural virtuoso when it comes to office equipment. The next time you are bored at work try getting your scanner to play Fur Elise or, if you are ambitious, use multiple gadgets to perform Radiohead's Nude. [Link]

How about gathering all of the phones in the office and spending months neglecting work so that you can play Mozart's Turkish March? Haha...you are so getting fired.

Here comes Mario again—only this time somebody got a little more creative and performed the music using an R/C car and some wine bottles. [Link]

Now here is where things start getting really weird. Like a Japanese "circuit bender" turning Pikachu into a synthesizer. [Kaseo via DVICE]

How about David Byrne using an antique organ connected to hammers and air pumps to "play" the architecture of a 9,000-square-foot building? [David Byrne]

Japan's "Melody Road" utilizes precisely cut grooves in the pavement between 6 and 12mm apart to play a tune as cars drive over. Obviously, the speed at which you travel affects how the music will sound—and the optimal speed is a depressingly low 28 mph. [Oddee]

Finally, we come to the work of performance artist Tim Kaiser. I'm not even sure what the hell is going on here, but the following arrangement really runs the gamut. In some areas it sounds like soothing wind chimes, babbling brooks and church bells—and at other times it sounds like the background music to your nightmares. [Tim Kaiser]

[Image via Flickr]

For full resolution, click here.

It wasn't until the beginning of the 20th century that mass-produced recordings were available to the average person—the concept of buying music is amazingly new. (Or to some, ooooooold.) Just a century ago, the first records began to do for music what the Gutenberg press did for words. Before them, music was handed crudely from person to person; after, it could reach millions, untouched and unspoiled.

If we couldn't record music, the Beatles would have never left Liverpool. By the same token the Jonas Brothers would have never left Georgia or Disney World or the Old Testament or wherever the hell they came from. Talk about progress! There may be no accounting for taste, but you can thank these reproducible formats for the very existence of the notion of pop music.

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

Seriously, what do all of you do that allows you to afford such sick equipment? Pass along some of that cheddar to me, please. In any case, on to the winners:

First Place — Ronnie Koh
Second Place — Byron Yu
Third Place — Eric Lee Klingman

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 $350,000 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 $20,000 on speaker cables is fucking crazy. In fact, anyone who spends $200 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 $350,000 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 $4,000 and one from Wireworld, whose $1,200 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 realize 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 $200 cables from Monster (here, playing the unfamiliar role of bargain choice) and a pair from Tara Labs that costs a deeply stupid $22,000, 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 $21,800 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 $1,600 platter that, once activated, neutralizes 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-demagnetizing, 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.

Designed by a Bose intern back in 2007, these modular Bluetooth speakers offer omnidirectional sound that can be enhanced by simply adding more speaker modules. Sure, Wi-Fi connectivity might work better for networked audio (especially when it's being operated from an iPhone), and we've seen somewhat similar products from Sonos and Griffin.

But the premise of Bose lithium ion powered spheres (with and optional plugin) emanating wireless music around one's home, all controlled by a simple but sweet little iPhone app? I like it.

And it's not too late, Bose. [FilosaDesign via The Design Blog Thanks Justin!]

UPDATE: Designer Louis Filosa informs us that "I originally planned on having the speaker use Bluetooth UWB (ultra wide band). It allows for a much larger transfer rate and is supposed to be the next generation of Bluetooth."

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 fuck?" 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 favorite 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.

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

The system was a Tesco Value MC-907—16.49 British pounds—a small compact stereo that was pitted against several other models. It got a 9.3 out of ten in the Reevoo Customer Choice Awards 2009. For comparison, systems like the JVC EK-10—costing $982—scored 8 out of ten, while a similar Sony going for $1,111 got 8.6. While you won't find the Tesco in US stores, I'm sure it's just a generic chinese box that is also available here (in fact, if you can identify it, please tell us).

Clearly, a customer choice awards is not exactly a scientific listening test. However, given the scope of the survey, there's clearly a pattern here. The fact is that many of these machines—and even more expensive systems—are manufactured at the same factories in Asia. If you go to a tech fair in China, you will have two versions: One made for foreigners, with brand equipment. The other—which often is celebrated after the first—is for internal markets, and features the same exact equipment with no brand, for a fraction of the price.

Have you ever found a surprising piece of cheap electronics, beating the more expensive brand version? Tell us in the comments. [IT News Online via Daily Mail]