I try not to become too emotionally invested in my SoundStage! goings-on. Speakers come and go, as do amps and turntables. Some I like. Some I love, and I am sad when they leave. Some products don’t resonate with me, so I’m happy to ship them off and free up the space. There’s always something else incoming, so the (small amount of) pain from a departure gets mitigated by the excitement of a new arrival.
Occasionally I get sideswiped by a component and am (a) thrilled to pieces when it arrives and (b) close to devastated when it departs. The Bowers & Wilkins 801 D4 Signature was one such product. I’ve never enjoyed a pair of speakers so much. Actually, I’ve never enjoyed a component that much, and maybe I never will again.
However, that’s totally the exception to the rule. Reviewing has become my job, and while I love this gig, familiarity has bred not contempt, but something more like detachment.
But now. Now! I just received a batch of Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab’s records, the opening salvo in their Rush reissue saga. If you’ve read many of my columns or some of my reviews, you’re likely aware that I am a huge Rush fan. Since my mid-teens, for almost 50 years now, Rush has been the soundtrack to my life, an anchor to my formative years.
Some context on the analog front end that I’ve used for this evaluation: for the last while, I’ve been exclusively using the European Audio Team Fortissimo S turntable. I had to move the VPI Prime Signature off to the side in order to accommodate several different review components that needed the vertical space. Normally I’d evaluate records using the VPI tipped with the DS Audio DS 003 cartridge feeding into the EMM Labs DS‑EQ1 optical phono stage. I’d run this front end not because it’s necessarily better sounding than the EAT and the Mola Mola Lupe phono stage I pair it with, but because it’s extremely resolving, cleaner, without any moving-coil hangover (which I like, but it doesn’t help to excavate minute details in a pressing). The VPI running the DS 003 is quick.
That said, I still had the Ortofon MC 90X affixed to the EAT (it’s going back to Ortofon USA shortly, though, so I’ve been listening to it day and night), and that’s a firecracker of a cartridge on a killer turntable, so I wasn’t hurting for a high-quality front end on which to play these records.
Let’s get going, shall we? It’s been many years since I’ve listened right through Rush’s debut album. It’s an oddity that I feel conflicted about. Obviously it was where the band got its start, so it’s loaded down with historical importance to this Rush fan. But. Neil Peart wasn’t part of the band back then. The original drummer, John Rutsey, bowed out due to health problems after this album was laid down. He was a competent, rock-solid drummer. But he was not Neil Peart, and that means this is not really the Rush that I grew to love. Still, getting this new MoFi 45‑rpm pressing meant there was no time like the present.
I’d forgotten just how tight this record is. It’s straight-ahead rock that, on the surface, isn’t groundbreaking. The elements of their greatness are here, though, if you know where to look. Geddy Lee’s bass is quick and lyrical, up-front with its growling Fender P‑bass tone, foreshadowing where his Rickenbacker would take him on later albums. Alex Lifeson’s wall-of-sound guitar has rich, textural depth that carries through 2112 and later evolves into an even more three-dimensional, multilayered assault weapon. And Rutsey is, as I said, solid.
There’s a bunch of great songs here. Of course, “Working Man” is the best-known track from this album, and the one that got Rush noticed. I recently changed the ringtone on my phone from Led Zep’s “Heartbreaker” (I’m no longer a free agent, so it’s well overdue) to “Working Man.” But there are other bangers on Rush. “What You’re Doing” just snaps off the ’table. It’s a bit derivative, far from groundbreaking, but who really cares? “Three chords, three minutes, and the truth”—that’s how a friend of mine once defined rock’n’roll. “It’s all you need,” he argued. “What You’re Doing” goes over by a full minute, and there are certainly more than three chords, but who’s counting? The center holds.
“In the Mood” has ample cowbell, and it’s a fun song—a touch trite, but heck, this is their first album, and they’re young lads. So I have no problem humoring them in their first shot at being rock stars. Every song on Rush is like that. It’s a fun listen, but you get the real juice by squinting a little and imagining what’s to come.
Here’s what’s really interesting. The new MoFi pressing smokes my 40th-anniversary direct-metal-mastering (DMM) box-set version of Rush (Universal B0020138‑01). I mean, they don’t even sound like the same record. Hark back to my review of the first Van Halen record that MoFi reissued as a One-Step box set. That demonstration-quality record set me alight, blew up my listening room, and almost caught fire on the turntable. I wasn’t sure if MoFi could deliver that level of improvement with the Rush reissues, but kick me in the balls, they pulled it off. At least they did with this record.
I’ll sum up the difference by telling you that every single parameter we use to judge pressings is better on the 45‑rpm MoFi record. Not just a little bit, not just an audiophile cable-change type of difference. The DMM version sounds flat, congested, constipated—no highs, thin bass, and muddy imaging—whereas the MoFi version is crisp and energizing. The highs crackle, the midrange is lush and defined, and the bass is quick, tight, and lithe.
The 40th-anniversary DMM version could be a particularly bad mastering or pressing, but prior to purchasing I had heard only good things about it. I’m not sure what’s going on with that record, but I can say the MoFi version is a revelation. It was an auspicious start to my evaluation of this reissue cycle.
On to Fly by Night. I was a touch apprehensive about evaluating this one, given that I only have the 2015 remastered version (Mercury B0022340‑01) on hand. I don’t remember what happened to my older pressing, but I do recall being pleased with the quality of the recent remasters, so who knows—misfiled maybe? Anyway, I would be comparing a recent high-end version against this here MoFi, so the differences would be negligible, right?
I need not have worried. While the 2015 remaster of FBN isn’t as wretched as the DMM Rush, it sounds muted in the highs and congested in the midrange. I had listened to the MoFi version a couple of times, so I was working backward this time—I knew something was wrong when I played the 2015 disc. Flipping to the MoFi, I got that same feeling of extended highs combined with almost limitless dynamics. “Anthem” is by far my favorite track on FBN, with its slashing guitar, crazy tempo changes, and Peart sounding like he’s got something to prove. It’s a complete song, a fist-to-the-sky yell announcing the arrival of this power trio. Again, as with Rush, the music just leaps off the disc, alive, engaging, transported in real time from 50 years ago.
These two discs, Rush and Fly by Night, are part of Mobile Fidelity’s regular numbered-edition 180g 45-rpm two-LP series—they’re not their top-line One-Step box-set pressings. Still, these records are transferred from the original ¼″ / 15-IPS Dolby-A analog master tapes directly to DSD256 format. From there, the files go to a custom analog console, then to the lathe. The discs were mastered by Krieg Wunderlich on equipment that was custom-made by Tim de Paravicini of Esoteric Audio Research (now known simply as EAR). MoFi’s sister company, Fidelity Record Pressing, pressed the records.
The covers are quality Stoughton tip-on jackets, and, of course, the records are protected by archetypal MoFi rice-paper sleeves. These records exude high quality, and the sound of the first two is reflected in the care in packaging.
While I was excited about the first two records, I kept eyeing A Farewell to Kings, the first release in MoFi’s UltraDisc One-Step Rush series. The One-Step process eliminates two steps in the creation of a stamper—with the One-Step process, the original lacquer is electroplated just once to create a single fragile stamper called a “convert.” This convert is used to directly press the vinyl records. So it’s a more direct but less rugged stamper, which means it can produce fewer records before there’s a need to re-cut the original lacquer from the DSD files.
A more direct process, combined with the additional resolution gained from cutting at 45 rpm, means that this version of A Farewell to Kings should easily be the best-sounding edition ever available. With the success of Rush and FBN, I had high hopes for this one.
I started with the new MoFi version of AFtK, because I just couldn’t wait. I sank back, ripped the volume up on the Electrocompaniet EC 5 preamp (review forthcoming), and just wallowed in the first track. With the two-LP set, there’s a fair bit of dead space on the first record, as it’s devoted to “A Farewell to Kings” on side 1 and “Xanadu” on side 2. But it makes sense—MoFi could spread out the grooves as far as they needed. I’m intimately familiar with this album, and listening to it (loud) is like putting on a comfortable sweater. This is busy, complicated music, but it’s utterly listenable—so long as you’re okay with Lee’s voice. (My wife, Marcia, definitely is not.)
Loping and tuneful, the One-Step version sounds fantastic, beyond reproach. Working backward and swapping over to the 2015 reissue was fascinating. The highs aren’t muffled as they are on Fly by Night. But while the high frequencies are extended, they also have a glassy, etched quality that makes my teeth ache at these admittedly extreme volumes. This effect was particularly noticeable on Lee’s voice, with certain peaks—not just sibilants—resonating in my fillings. To zoom in, the second guitar solo in “Xanadu” on the 2015 reissue is particularly bitey.
By contrast, the highs on the MoFi version are silky smooth, without that annoying peak on the top end of Lee’s already-peaky voice. But more than that, the bass in particular has a solidity and clarity that are totally lacking in the 2015 version.
Look. I’m not here to sell you on Rush, because they’re very much a polarizing band, and you either love them or hate them. But if you were so inclined to even try out a record by this long-running Canadian band, you could do much worse than A Farewell to Kings. It’s a clever, well-thought-out record. And man, does it sound great in this format.
Next up, in 2027 MoFi will release Caress of Steel and 2112, both of which I’m—obviously—very much looking forward to. CoS will be pressed in the regular two-LP 45‑rpm format, while 2112 will be a One-Step release.
. . . Jason Thorpe
jasont@soundstagenetwork.com
