In the world of analog accessories, there are entire catalogs of stuff you didn’t know you needed. Of course, I know there’s a distinction between want and need. We humans really only need food, water, shelter, and companionship. A turntable is a want. Heck, any form of hi-fi is a want.
But if you’re planning to purchase a turntable, there are only three categories you need to be concerned with when it comes to supporting infrastructure:
- Sanitation
- Organization
- Protection
Here’s an overview of my analog necessities. Please bear in mind that the products I describe below are my personal choices—there are many other products that do the same things, some more and some less expensive.
Sanitation
I would not be without my VPI MW1 Cyclone record-cleaning machine. The Cyclone is a wet-wash system that’s distilled down to minimalist components. It spins the record and sucks off fluid. That’s it; no automatic application of fluid, no ultrasonic emitters: a primitive, elemental machine that radiates power, simplicity, and reliability. It’s a Soviet-bloc record cleaner.
I mean that in the absolute best way.
Back in the late ’90s, I had a Jeep Grand Cherokee equipped with a screamingly high-end audio system. JL Audio subs, Morel speakers, multiple Soundstream class-A amps. The head unit was a Nakamichi MB-75. This unit was a preamplifier, a tuner, and a six-disc CD changer, all in a single-DIN chassis. When you pushed a button to change from one disc to another, it sounded like dozens of little servos began pushing and pulling all of the discs around as they opened a wormhole to another dimension within which to work. Looking at the size of it, you’d think it impossible to shuffle CDs in such a confined space. It took an especially long while for it to change from disc 6 to disc 1, with all those servos grumbling away to themselves.
But my MB-75 didn’t last very long. After just over a year, if I recall correctly, it suddenly refused to change discs. It was no longer under warranty, and Nakamichi Canada didn’t want to service it. I had to disassemble it to get my discs out. After I had retrieved my discs, I gave a college try at reassembling the unit. It was impossible, and in disgust I threw it in the garbage.
I’ve seen demonstrations of ultrasonic record cleaners that are the analog equivalent of that Nak head unit. Drop your record into a slot like a slice of bread into a toaster, and a pump will fill the cavity up with fluid, ultrasonically clean the record while rotating it, then pump the fluid back out and engage a drying fan. Plus a filter to keep the fluid clean.
So you’ve got water, moving parts, and electronics in close proximity to each other. I can’t see that going well over the long haul. I recall a Far Side cartoon—a man at a car dealership almost ready to purchase a car made of sticks, the salesman pushing a pen and a contract toward him. The caption: “Andrew is hesitant, remembering his fiasco with the car of straw.” The MB-75 was my car of straw.
Now I’m sitting here looking at the record cleaner made of bricks. There’s nothing much to go wrong with the VPI Cyclone, and it does its job with violent efficiency, possessing single-minded, mil-spec purpose. Does an ultrasonic record cleaner get deeper into the grooves? Does it do a better job? Maybe it does, but I’ll stick with the claw-hammer simplicity of the VPI Cyclone.
In a like manner, to clean my records on the Cyclone I feed the VPI with a jug o’ fluid that I make by the pint. In a squeeze bottle I mix four parts (or thereabouts; I don’t even measure anymore) of distilled water with one part isopropyl alcohol. Into that mix goes a single drop, as small as I can make it, of Kodak Photo-Flo 200 surfactant. Back when records at garage sales were still a thing, I kept a special batch for really dirty LPs into which I added a tablespoon of Windex.
Organization
I count cartridge alignment among the elements of analog organization. I don’t fuss here very much. My VPI Prime Signature came equipped with a dedicated metal alignment jig, and I use this exclusively when installing a cartridge on this ’table. Here’s the thing: the dot in the middle of the VPI’s target grid is quite coarse, about the width of a cartridge’s cantilever. That dot is definitely larger and coarser than the stylus. It’s more than good enough for me, though. I get my nose in there, with my doubled-up reading glasses and a flashlight, and try my damndest to get the stylus right on that dot. I do my best to align the cantilever with the perpendicular lines on the grid, and then that’s pretty much it.
All in all, I spend about 20 minutes aligning a cartridge. I’ll come back and give it another look after a new cartridge has had some time to settle in, but it’s not something I obsess over. My friend Rich uses a protractor that’s custom-made for his turntable and arm. Its markings are finely etched on glass, and Rich follows the instructions for its use to the letter. It takes him nearly half a day to complete that process. While I’m sure Rich’s process is more accurate than mine, I’m skeptical about the audible benefits of that level of precision.
As Peter Gabriel said in “A Wonderful Day in a One-Way World,” time is money, and money I serve. I eyeball VTA and play with it, figuring out where it sounds best, but I don’t obsess over it. Tracking force is easy: I just weigh it out with the same scale I use to measure magic-mushroom microdoses.
A photo I found on the internet and not taken at my place.
Another tool that gets a fair bit of use is my Pro-Ject Align-it protractor. It’s very flexible, and adaptable for tonearms of different lengths. I keep my hex keys in a small bag tucked in the box. It’s part of my travel kit, one I used recently when I visited my friend Marc.
The only thing I don’t have but wish I’d kept around for cartridge alignment is the Fozgometer, which I received as part of a review package with the DS Audio DS 003 optical cartridge. I found that tuning up the azimuth with the Fozgometer really, actually did make a difference to LP sound, and the device itself made the process relatively simple. I regret not buying the review sample, and I occasionally find myself browsing used ones on Canuck Audio Mart. In fact, I think I’m gonna go in halfsies with my neighbor Ron, who also has a baller analog rig.
Protection
A steady hand in concert with large doses of patience goes most of the way toward ensuring a long-running vinyl rig. I have two friends who are authorized to change records on the VPI. On those infrequent nights when we commence to drinking, I’m especially wary of their level of steadiness; when things get a bit too loose, I’ll shut the machine down, and we’ll head upstairs and listen to digital. On such occasions, it’s usually two or three couples, with the men downstairs for cognac and cigars while the womenfolk remain in the living room. So after I pull the fuel rods out of the reactor, we’ll blunder upstairs and try to take over the music on the main floor. It usually doesn’t work out. Marcia will roll her eyes and use her teacher voice (I’m sure that the Bene Gesserit’s voice from Dune is modeled after this) to make me go sort out another round of drinks.
More concretely, I rely on my Little Fwend tonearm lift to minimize excess wear on my cartridges. The Little Fwend is permanently mounted on my VPI Prime Signature, and its smooth, consistent, fuss-free action makes me look on it with affection at every interaction. Not that there’s any real need to reiterate the obvious, but lifting the tonearm at the immediate end of each album side is a good idea, one that will definitely extend the life of your cartridge.
Every new record that comes into my system gets a Vinyl Storage Solutions dual-pocket sleeve. As I wrote back in 2021, the VSS outer sleeves really stepped up my vinyl storage and display game. First off, they’re crystal clear, especially compared to the hazy polyethylene sleeves that we’ve all been using by default. Further, the two-pocket design means that the cardboard outer jackets don’t see repeated wear each time you remove and re-insert the record. They’re not cheap, but they are made here in Canada by a company that supports armed-forces veterans, and I feel that they are easily worth the money.
Since I first wrote about Vinyl Storage Solutions, I’ve ordered more sleeves, and now I use them not only on new records, but also on anything that tends to inhabit my frequent-listening pile. My Coltrane and Davis records all got VSS sleeves, as did Cowboy Junkies. I just took another look at the company’s site and noted that the 13″ sleeves, designed for oversize MoFi discs, have been reduced to 12.75″, which remedied the only criticism I had of their products. The slightly smaller size should fit around those LPs better than the old 13″ sleeves did.
I just performed a quick scan of my listening room, and there are a few other small items of note. I confiscated one of my wife’s anti-aging ointment jars after she had scraped out the last vestiges of product. A quick clean-out left it perfect for storing cartridge screws and tiny Allen keys.
My powerful single-AAA flashlight is useful for all sorts of audio activities—it’s never far from hand. And of course, everyone who’s anyone has an AudioQuest Anti-Static Record Brush.
Of all the items on this list, only the VPI Cyclone is what I’d consider expensive. If you’re just starting out in analog and don’t want to break the bank, I’d suggest swapping in the Spin Clean record washer, which is about a hundo right now, and it does a fantastic job, no excuses. The Little Fwend isn’t exactly cheap, but it’s more of a luxury, and in the short term it’s no problem running your rig without one attached.
Happy shopping. Christmas is just around the corner, and you deserve to treat yourself.
. . . Jason Thorpe
jasont@soundstagenetwork.com
