Musical Fidelity A1 integrated amplifier
“Have you fried an egg on it yet?” asked an industry friend upon spying the new Musical Fidelity A1 amplifier. Well you could. Mine reached just short of 73°C, more than the 70°C needed to cook an egg properly. Even for Class A that’s hot. The original A1 was based on a Tim de Paravicini design and made in 1984 did have a reputation for frying itself, its forte being sound quality rather than heat management. Hence Musical Fidelity, now owned by Pro-ject, paying considerable attention to heat dissipation in the new A1. Quite a challenge given it adheres closely to the original’s electronic design as well as its looks
I first heard the new A1, nine months before launch, at distributor Henley Audio’s Oxford showroom (MF designer Simon Quarry is based there). The electronic design was complete, the physical casework not (that heat management). But it did sound lovely driving £8k Klipsch Cornwalls, despite the apparent price mismatch. The A1’s 25 Watts were powering the admittedly efficient speakers to high levels in a large room. There was also real finesse to the sound, quality and quantity, as if the pair had been designed to work together.
A review request was made there and then. But what would the A1 sound like with more real-world speakers? Those closer in price to it, those with average sensitivity. Here’s what I found.
What you get
True to the original, the new A1 has five line and one MM/MC phono inputs (alas I couldn’t test the latter, my Garrard 401 still a work in progress). Two outputs are provided, one fixed, one variable. Plus a single set of speaker terminals. There are no digital inputs, nor a headphone output. All of which makes the A1 pretty straightforward. But then, amplifiers were in the 1980s. As noted, power is 25W into 8 Ohms, with maximum current of 25 amps. Musical Fidelity says that despite ostensibly low power the A1 can handle demanding speaker loads. I had no problem driving any of the speakers I had to hand.
Two rotary controls handle input selection and volume, bright blue LEDs indicating position. The power switch sits to the left, glowing an even brighter blue. In a departure from the original there’s also a ‘Direct’ switch that bypasses the preamp gain stage to match the A1 to different speakers. In use, gain is 10dB lower. The other departure from 1984 is remote control of volume. Small, metallic and easy to use (up, down, mute) the remote itself is a delight. In use I wasn’t sure at first, a graunching noise emitted as the motor turned the high-quality ALPS RK potentiometer (another improvement on the original). However, in a strange twist I soon found myself missing the quirk with other amplifiers.
Little of the original A1’s electronic design has changed. The layout of circuit sections on their boards is the same, component specs have been retained etc. Musical Fidelity has just executed the design better. Higher quality components (polyprop caps, metal film resistors and so on) are used. A significantly updated transformer now has dual-mono split-rail windings. And uprated power arrangements involve independent left and right power supplies driving the amplifier stages.
Looks and build
With minimal room for manoeuvre Musical Fidelity has done a good job refreshing the look. It’s still a bit hair-shirt, not least the fluted top plate complete with sharp edges that acts as a giant heatsink. It lends the A1 a home-grown air, not helped by hex bolts seemingly peppered over the top plate willy-nilly (they’re not, they aid heat management). The A1 is an enthusiast’s amplifier, not a lifestyle product. Were it a car it would be a Caterham, whose Seven 620 model does 0-60 mph in 2.8 seconds (gulp.) You don’t see footballers in them though, status symbols they are not.
So it is with the new A1 which puts function before form. Having spent several months with the amplifier I care not a jot, it delivers in spades where needed. And I trust Musical Fidelity to have tamed that heat. Speaking of which, my A1 consumed 100W at idle. The max is specified at 130W. Which means it was costing me 3-4 pence per hour to run. Less than anticipated.
For listening the A1 was bookended by Mofi Sourcepoint 8 speakers (£3,000) and a Cambridge Audio Edge NQ DAC/streamer (£5,000) in fixed output mode. A setup that worked particularly well.
Listening
Reviews often summarise a component in a punchy first paragraph. A standalone mini tome, sufficient for those not quite skipping from intro to summary (perish the thought.) I couldn’t seem to manage it with the A1 though, the music kept distracting me. Take Maria-Joao Pires’ reading of Bach’s Piano Partita No 1. I marvelled at her deft touch. The way the lead switched from right to left hand, then back again. The delicacy of her fingers, firm on the keys one minute, then light. The piece had a rhythmic pace that was beautifully judged. It’s the Desert Island DiscI’d save, the piece that will play me out of this world. And I haven’t used a single bit of audiophile jargon in any of that.
What was causing this? Detail and palpability were top of the list. On the latter, Pires’ piano was slightly elevated and set back a little in the soundstage. The feeling was intimate, more private than public performance. I felt part of the event, something that differentiates a good from a really good system.
That you could clearly discern the role of each hand indicates that the A1 was retrieving plenty of detail. Subtle information that shed light on the playing, not detail for detail’s sake. Switching to Jacob Collier’s Little Blue from Djesse 4 tested the A1’s resolving powers further. Collier’s ‘more is more, plus a bit more too’ philosophy was ever present but here it worked musically. The A1 portrayed the purity of his voice perfectly. It also captured the complexity of the mix, even small contributions were audible. All added to the music as a whole, nothing was brightly lit, laser focused or any other audiophile attribute. Nothing was competing for attention. You just heard how much was going on.
As the track built it also gained weight, first with slow electronic pulses akin to rolling thunder. Then with more sustained energy. The A1 achieved an ideal balance between control of the bass and freedom for it to breathe, hinting at good low end performance generally. Something I explored with numerous bass test tracks. Michael McDonald’s version of I Heard It On The Grapevine had really taught, rhythmic bass. The gratuitous low-end on Liz Wright’s When I Fall was tracked faithfully by the A1. Munch’s Saint Saens Symphony No.3 ‘Organ Symphony’required both depth and power from the A1, which delivered. And finally Telefon Tel Aviv’s hyper-dense I Dream Of It Often. That the A1 kept on top of this track was impressive, even if it had to work hard to separate out the competing strands of cacophony.
The A1’s treble was typically Class A, silky but not overly smooth. Like adding a knob of butter to a sauce. True it tamed coarse edges on bright tracks like Metallica’s Enter Sandman, ZZ Top’s La Grange, Telarc classical releases etc. If you like your meat raw that may not be a good thing. It was for me. And the midrange was just gorgeous. One listen to Jacintha’s Willow Weep For Me from Jacintha Is Her Name (pure ‘60s gorgeousness, actually released in 2003) had me sold.
It was the poise of the A1’s overall performance that was most impressive though. The Sourcepoint 8 speaker’s strength is its transparency, the lack of self in its delivery. That plus the credibility of the soundstage it presents, putting you in the performance not in front of it. The Musical Fidelity A1 gave the speaker free reign, drawing no attention to itself. It proved an ideal partner.
Comparisons
Was I getting dewy eyed, sold on the retro romance of the A1? Time to try some alternatives. First up, a stablemate; Musical Fidelity’s M2si amplifier. Similar functionality, sonically impressive at £699. And paired with the £3,000 Sourcepoint 8 the simple integrated worked really well. It did nothing wrong, actually a rarity with amplifiers in my experience. And lots right, indeed its bass was weightier than the A1, if not quite as controlled.
Elsewhere the A1 trumped it though, the dearer amplifier retrieving greater detail and presenting a more believable soundstage. Enough to comfortably justify the price difference. Short of funds, I’d happily live with the M2si and Sourcepoint 8. The A1 was better though, the law of diminishing returns not yet kicking in.
So in that context the A1 justified its £1,500 price. What if you spend more though? Does performance improve further, or is the A1 in a sweet spot, able to take on heavyweights with aplomb? Enter a Primaluna EVO 300H hybrid integrated, £6,500 of loveliness. It lacks a phono stage but does include a headphone amplifier. As with the A1 there are no digital inputs. So functionally the two amplifiers aren’t a million miles apart.
Any thoughts of giant-killing faded when the Primaluna started playing. Across the board the dearer amplifier sounded better. Fundamentally it was cleaner, the soundstage coming alive significantly more as a result. The level of detail retrieval bettered the A1 quite a bit. And the extra power on tap was felt down below, the Primaluna’s bass having real finesse as well as weight and depth.
Jacob Collier’s Little Blue encapsulated everything. The soundstage was bigger and more believable, impressive given the A1 does really well in this area. The mix revealed even more complexity, subtle elements that were previously unheard now apparent. And the gently sweeping bass pulses were just plain gorgeous.
None of which undermined my respect for the A1. It coaxed fantastic performance from the Sourcepoint 8 standmount; spending twice as much on the speakers as the amplifier really worked in this instance. The pairing seemed symbiotic.
Conclusions
Look up the Caterham Seven. Your daily drive might be a BMW, a Mercedes, even a Porsche. If there’s an ounce of petrolhead in you, you’ll want a Caterham as well. I spent several months in the company of the new Musical Fidelity A1. My daily drive is that wunderkind Primaluna EVO 300H. Yet I’d still like an A1 to sit alongside it. Partly as a reviewing tool, the rational reason. Partly because the A1 elicited an emotional response, as good audio does. Were I in the market for an amplifier in the £1-2k bracket it would certainly be on my shortlist.
Some retro products are a triumph of form over function. Not the A1. That a 1984 design can hold its head high 40 years later is testament to the original design. Bravo to Pro-ject’s Heinz Lichtenegger for resurrecting it.