In my August 1 editorial, I talked about the recent arrivals and departures in my review system. It’s been uncharacteristically variable lately, which has made reviewing a challenge. To make this variability work, I’ve been listening pretty much non-stop, and it’s been hard work. Oh boo-hoo, you might be thinking. Poor Jason—he’s got to listen to music all day. World’s smallest violin, etc.
Be careful what you wish for. About 15 years ago, I was at a motorcycle press launch, in Berlin, Germany, if I remember correctly. I had been considering taking a full-time position as editor of the magazine I was writing for at that time. There were about eight other journalists there, including two editors of competing magazines. I mentioned to the collective that I was thinking about making the career jump—from mainframe programmer to editor of a motorcycle magazine—and asked for their opinions.
One of them, the most professional and respected of the lot, responded, “Do you like motorcycles?”
“Why yes, I do,” I replied.
“Would you want to continue liking motorcycles?” he countered.
I could see where this was going, but I answered with due consideration. “Yes, I would.”
“Then don’t take the job,” he said, with a tone of world-weary fatalism.
So, I took his advice, and I’ve been listening and writing, writing and listening, for many hours a day, and I’m still enjoying this gig. However, I need to take breaks, I need to plan a lunch. I’ve had to put together a schedule. It’s becoming more like work.
On a mid-July weekend, I scheduled some time with my two audiophile neighbors, Ron and Rob. I needed some help setting up the recently delivered European Audio Team Fortissimo S turntable. This sucker, which retails for $13,799 (in USD), clocks in at 203 pounds in its crate, and 104 pounds when decanted. Could I manage it on my own? Maybe, but last thing I need is to attempt the heavy lifting and drop a nut. No thanks—work smarter, not harder.
Before Ron and Rob arrived, I started the unpacking process. The EAT’s crate is by far the sturdiest, best-constructed piece of packaging I’ve ever received. It’s made from tidily cut 5/8″ plywood, with no rough edges. Edges that require handling are smoothly rounded off. Some of the edges are even finished with Formica. It’s not furniture grade, but some serious thought and effort has gone into this box.
A polystyrene layer held the parts and accessories. Here were belts, the power supply, assorted screws and wrenches, and two record weights, one of which is double-plus cool, with grippy O-rings around the perimeter.
I yanked this layer off and arrayed the little boxes and bags on my coffee table in preparation for the main event. This done, I pulled back the white shroud covering the Fortissimo S’s plinth, revealing the beautiful, gloss-ebony veneer of my review sample. Up to this point, I wasn’t sure whether I would be receiving the ebony or piano-black finish. But I was hoping for the ebony one. Also peeking out the side was the polished chrome of the F-Note tonearm.
Rob’s the heavy lifter. He’s worked in construction for years, including stints as a stonemason, so he can hoick heavy speakers up a flight of stairs without breaking a sweat. He’s also got a great ear, so I appreciate his input when we listen to gear I’m reviewing. Ron was the brains of the operation. He’s patient and considered in his movements, which is everything I’m not. So while his role in this procedure didn’t involve schlepping, he’s good to have around when I’m setting up a ’table.
Rob was delayed due to work, so I decided to take a stab at decanting the plinth. Giving it a test lift, I estimated that it was just over half the weight of the assembled ’table. I’m guessing about 60 pounds. So it wasn’t that much of a strain to deadlift it out of the box and penguin-shuffle it into the living room and onto my rack.
I removed the protective wrapper and whistled through my teeth. This is a lot of turntable. The bearing itself is extremely stout, the Macassar ebony veneer was flawless, and the tonearm has all sorts of knobs and dials on it. I took this opportunity to give the plinth a quick dust and polish with a tiny squirt of Pledge. I pulled the little condom off and examined the bearing—it seemed like it could use a dab of grease, which I squeezed onto the tip from the little tube included in the accessories.
Since I was already involved with the lifting, I engaged my core and yanked the platter out of the crate. This massive chunk was nestled in a separate wooden tray fitted with easy-to-grab handles, so it wasn’t that hard to maneuver. That said, once I’d gotten the platter into my living room and onto the coffee table, I realized there was no way for one person to safely lift it to chest height and lower it onto the bearing.
Unless that person was Rob, of course. And then in he came, all covered in drywall mud. I am somewhat in awe of Rob. He’s not that much younger than me, but he’s insanely strong and very resilient. There’s no way I could do what he does—even in my youth, I couldn’t have handled his line of work. There are sturdy, strong people in this world, and there are people like me. I’ve tried over the years to do things that require you to be sturdy—full-contact martial arts, off-road endurance motorcycle racing—and just found myself getting injured. And here I am with two steel hips, a wonky wrist, and a malfunctioning shoulder.
Rob grabbed that heavy, awkward chunk of precision-tooled metal and lifted it up to chin height like it was nothing. “Over here? How do you want to do this?” he said, without any sense of strain. I got down low, located the bearing well, and guided the platter down over the shaft. The platter slid down, all sexy-like, slowing as it reached the bottom. That slowdown was probably due to a combination of increasing air pressure and magnetic repulsion from the opposing magnets in the plinth and platter (which is a cool thing by itself).
Rob, Ron, and I geezered for a bit, but Rob had to take off to go back to work. Ron hung around to help me with the rest of the setup. It was an interesting contrast—from Rob straight-arming a 50-pound chunk of metal to Ron and me trying to figure out how to remove the small piece of foam that protected the antiskate mechanism.
At this point, I had to decide which cartridge I was going to install. While the DS Audio DS 003 optical cartridge would have to get a turn in this arm, installing my EAT Jo N°8 first was a no-brainer. The Jo N°8 is the top cartridge from European Audio Team—I’m going to assume it was voiced with an EAT turntable, and that the performance of the Fortissimo S was verified with one of the company’s cartridges.
In the end, Ron and I had the cartridge mounted but not set up. It was enough audio stuff for one day—I still had to yank out the Voodoo Labs Witchcraft speaker cables so that SoundStage! founder and publisher Doug Schneider could pick them up to get photos done for my recent review on this site.
The next morning, I spun up a cappuccino and nipped downstairs to get the new ’table up and running. There was a high-quality phono cable in the accessory pack, but I still had a Furutech Ag-16 tonearm cable on hand that matched up with the Fortissimo S’s mini-DIN socket. I made the executive decision to use the Furutech because it was terminated with XLRs, which snapped straight into my Aqvox Phono 2 CI phono stage.
I aligned the cartridge with my Pro-Ject Align it protractor, and I set the tracking weight to EAT’s recommended 2.3gm using my Amazon-sourced digital scale. The Fortissimo S features a very handy two-stage counterweight. Move the weight’s sled back and forth until it’s in the general vicinity, tighten down the locking screw, and then rotate the weight itself to dial it right in. Very slick.
There’s a two-stage VTA adjustment also. To get the VTA in the right neighborhood, loosen two hex screws at the back of the arm base and then raise or lower the pillar as needed. Again, once it’s mostly right, you can fine-tune the height using the large knob at the top of the arm pillar. And you can make these fine VTA adjustments on the fly, which is really cool.
So, VTA and VTF set, rough alignment complete, I sat down for a listen. By this time, I hadn’t checked azimuth, verified the speed, or given the alignment a thorough setup. There’s also an actual laser on the arm pillar that verifies VTA and azimuth, and I hadn’t fiddled with that yet. On a whim, I threw Sleep’s The Sciences (Third Man Records TMR-547) onto the EAT and let it rip.
I don’t know why I chose this record. Probably something to do with these massive Børresen X6 speakers that are currently staring me down like ED-209 Enforcement Droids from Robocop. Play some metal. You have 20 seconds to comply. Huge amounts of bass coiled around me with an insane spread of power and soundstage depth, accompanied by an appropriate sense of doom, as I descended to the bottom of a lake of fire. Transfixed, I sat through all four sides.
If it sounds this good now, I can’t wait to hear what this thing is like once I get it dialed in.
Back to work now.
. . . Jason Thorpe
jasont@soundstagenetwork.com
