How a piece of varnished Japanese paper can consistently improve the sound of a vinyl record riding atop it is beyond me. The inexplicability of this more organic effect is something else the Pi shares with Holger Stein’s doo-dads. This more organic presentation is something the Pi shares with almost all SteinMusic tweaks, including its H2Plus Boxes, Stones, Stars, and Suns room treatments. It is this realistic and sonically attractive “organicism” that the Pi Carbon Signature adds to each and every LP, no matter how it was recorded. The instruments in the separately miked sound-booth setup may seem more individuated and distinct, but the sense of organicism-of ensemble music-making in a large, shared acoustic space, (highlighted in the Blumlein or spaced-omni setups)-will be greatly reduced or nonexistant. Think of the sound of a recording on which musicians were taped in sound booths via individual mics then think of the sound of a recording on which the musicians were taped ensemble in an actual hall, studio, or club via a Blumlein pair or a trio of omnis. Perhaps it would be best to do this is by analogy. Since I started using the SteinMusic Pi, I’ve been searching for a way to explain how this sheet of paper changes sonics. The other part-the good part-is the effect this mat has on the presentation. But, with the Pi Carbon Signature, it is part of the price of doing business. Which means that, now and then, you may have to peel the Pi from the LP and resituate it on your record player before playing Side B. It’s got some substance to it, though not enough substance (unless it’s fastened down to the platter via the little tabs of tape on its rear side) to keep it from occasionally sticking to the backs of your records. Though it consists of varnished paper and some sort of carbon additive, the Pi Carbon Signature is not as thin and light as you might imagine. After being dried on wood, the tapa paper is sent to SteinMusic in Mülheim, Germany, where it is impregnated with SteinMusic Maestro Lacquer-“a varnish made out of the most precious natural resins in a unique composition, optimized for perfect resonance control.” No, this paper is hand-made in Japan from the same trees (usually mulberry and fig) that tapa cloth is made from. If it were, you could pull a page from TAS (or if you wanted something more prosciutto-like, a page from Stereophile), punch a spindle-sized hole in it, and slap it on your turntable. (I’m going to start a new paragraph now to give you time to pick up a pen and begin writing that angry letter.) However, before I get to Pi Carbon Signature sonics, let me tell you what it is: It is a $650 sheet of paper is what it is. (And neither will anything else from SteinMusic.) If you’re looking for spotlit detail, then it won’t be for you. Not only is it different it is also better-at least it is if you’re looking for a closer semblance of the absolute sound. Holger Stein’s Pi Carbon Signature record mat is an exception. As the old saw has it, different isn’t necessarily better more often than not, it’s just different. And all of them have made a sonic difference-not enough of a difference, however, to earn an enduring place in my system (or my memory). All of them have claimed to provide an improved (i.e., lower noise and jitter) interface between LP and platter. Some have been sticky some have been stiff some have been thin some have been fat some have been as springy as balls of dough and some have been as hard as unripened plums. They’ve come and gone with the regularity of seasons. I can’t tell you how many different record mats I’ve tried over the last four or five decades.
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