Phiatons

Low-level resolution was also greater with the Phiatons. Valet's "Rainbow" opens with a whispered vocal from Honey Owens that the Phiatons zoomed in on and embraced; in fact, Owens' voice throughout the track was clearer, more human, more present—unambiguous pluses.
Looking back . . .
. . . at the listening habits I fell into with the Beats, I clearly gravitated toward music that offered aggressive imaging, an area in which the Monsters excelled. I therefore decided to do a few more listening tests, using songs in different genres of music.
I began this time with the Phiatons. "Shhh/Peaceful," from Miles Davis's transcendent In a Silent Way (lossless file; CD, Columbia/Legacy 712765), sounded just about as intoxicating and comforting as ever. I could hear the vibrant guitar, the brassy hi-hat, the locked-in bass, the gentle washes of organ, and rising above it all Davis's breathy, painfully gorgeous trumpet. I could easily follow the bass line, and no part of the musical presentation was confused or obscured. The Phiatons' right earcup was uncomfortable, however, requiring constant adjustment, which obviously detracted from my enjoyment of the music.
Through the Beats, Davis's horn was a little less brass, and a little more spitty. I was more aware of Dave Holland's trilling runs, but his acoustic bass didn't seem quite as tight, and instruments weren't as clearly delineated as through the Phiatons. There was more sizzle to the hi-hat, less clean bite. Imaging was slightly more forceful, sounds showing up suddenly and startlingly.
Paul Galbraith's performance of his arrangement of the Adagio of Bach's Sonata for Solo Violin No.1 in G Minor, from The Six Sonatas and Partitas (lossless file; CD, Delos DE 3232), opens with a bang—the solo-guitar equivalent of pounding a piano's keys. Through the Phiatons it was an awakening experience, Galbraith's breaths easily audible and in sync with the music as he wrings passionate, heavy music from his classical guitar. I had no complaints. I found myself pulled into a tranquil state, my head swaying with the music. My reverie was slightly interrupted by the pressure of the headphones around my head.
Everything sounded slightly cleaner and clearer through the Phiatons, and with that clarity came a relaxation that enveloped me as I listened, and let me revel in the music. I just wish the Phiatons were as comfortable on my head as the Beats were.
Because, through the Beats, Paul Galbraith didn't arrive with as much impact. There was a different sort of weight here, a weight that lacked the Phiatons' clarity; Galbraith's rapid hammer-ons and pull-offs weren't as easily discerned or followed, some of the notes becoming lost in the fire. His breaths sounded less like breaths—they could have been tape hiss, or sheets of paper blown in the wind—and because of this they distracted me more from the music-making. However, the music was still beautiful. The imaging, as with other recordings, was more intense than that of the Phiatons, but also less precise, which detracted from rather than added to my overall experience. Moving on to the Fuga of Sonata 1, the Beats' lack of clarity resulted in sloppier-sounding technique, and lacks of impact and momentum. By comparison, the Phiatons' sound was tighter, resulting in what seemed a more dramatic and enticing performance.
Final thoughts
Many years ago, when I was just beginning work on this review, I had both sets of headphones here in the office. Several of my colleagues gave them a listen. Everyone—everyone—liked both, and came to pretty much the conclusions I've come to. With minor differences in perspective, of course. Some preferred the Beats' generous bass over the Phiatons' solid bottom-end grip. Some felt that the Phiatons were extremely comfortable, while the Beats were too bulky.
While I was greatly impressed by the Beats' design, packaging, and aggressive imaging, I ultimately preferred the Phiatons' more musical performance. What I couldn't get over was how tightly they gripped my head. Had the Phiatons been as comfortable as the Beats, I might have purchased them.
I'm not convinced that noise cancellation is the way to go. For one thing, there's the battery requirement. I don't want to deal with batteries. And for all the Beats' invulnerability to outside noise, the Phiatons, without noise cancellation, proved just as impervious. Perhaps the money invested in the noise-cancellation technology could be better spent elsewhere.
The arrival of Jim Austin's review text of Grado's updated SR60, the SR60i ($79), overlapped with my audition of the Beats and Phiaton headphones, so I had the opportunity to compare those two premium sets with an entry-level classic. While I don't want to preempt Jim's findings—his review will appear in our May issue—I will say that the Grados' overall sound has more in common with the Beats' than with the Phiatons'. Not a bad thing. I tossed a check in the mail for the Grados.
In other news, our digital sales rep, Jon Banner, walked into the office this morning with a bigger-than-usual bounce in his step. As he stopped at my door, he looked especially chuffed. "Look what I've got!" he hollered.

On his head was a brand-new set of Phiaton Moderna MS 400s. I was a little envious. Ow!
Charley-horsed again.

Packaging

Finally, I played a lossless file of Espers' "That Which Darkly Thrives," from last year's III (CD, Drag City DC416). Here, interestingly, voices were rendered appropriately: They sounded lovely and ethereal, and seemed to float above everything in a way that even my stereo can't manage. In my review of this album, I highlighted the "groaning bass and cello runs that lift the listener from the ground." Compared to my memory of that sensation as conveyed through my hi-fi, the Beats came up short, however, sounding slightly diffuse and not nearly as impactful. Bass, overall, had a distinctly loose and fat quality that hindered the music's momentum and impact. Guitar leads, on the other hand, were bright and strong, and imaging was, again, stellar.

Familial interlude
At my mom's house, I showed the headphones to my younger sisters. One is 15 years old, the other 27. Both very much liked the style of the Beats and found them comfortable. Neither thought them too bulky or awkward.
We ate lots of good food, teased each other, and sat around on the couch for hours. Then I went home.

Against the Phiatons
On the train ride back to Jersey City, I briefly reacquainted myself with the sound of the Beats headphones before comparing them with the Phiaton Moderna MS 400 ($249), reviewed by Wes Phillips in our January 2009 issue. In this price range, a difference of $100 is significant, but I'd had some experience with the Phiatons and, with Wes's review handy, figured those familiar 'phones would make a fine reference. Plus, the Beats and Phiatons have a similar fashion sense—both sets are red, black, and sleek—though the Beats bob to Raekwan, while the Phiatons slack along Bedford Avenue. It's the ever-blurring difference between hip-hop and hipster.

I can't help but think that some of the difference in price is due to the difference in packaging. While the Beats' packaging is superb—admirable, even—the Modernas' is nothing special. You probably won't want to display your Phiaton box—it'll be going in the trash or a closet—but it does the job. My review sample was packed neatly and safely, and looked fine. Whereas opening a set of Beats was like rejoicing over a new pair of sneakers, opening a set of Phiatons was like struggling with a new G.I. Joe action figure: There were all these little pieces of tape and tricky bits of wire looping through the cardboard. After a while, I just wanted to tear the damn thing open. I didn't, though. I was very careful.

In Wes's review of the Phiatons, he mentions that they "don't sit as lightly on the head" as some other headphones, and that their earcup pads and closed back form a particularly "tight seal." Wes nonetheless found the Moderna MS 400s very comfortable. I had a tougher time with them. It was never something that made itself immediately noticeable, but often enough I found myself having to adjust and readjust the 'phones' placement on my head due to discomfort, especially around my right ear. I have a large head, large ears, and I wear glasses—all factors that may have added to the problem. Will the Phiatons fit comfortably on your head? I'm willing to bet they will, but that will be a matter for you and your head to decide.

As for the Phiatons' sound, Wes felt they lacked "a touch of sparkle," but that they offered a "superbly tight low end" and were "extremely musical" overall. I had no problem with the tonal quality of the Phiatons' top octaves, feeling instead that they conveyed a satisfying sense of truth and air and detail—but I lack Wes's experience of headphones, and he was comparing the Phiatons to the more expensive AKG K701 ($499). Where Wes and I completely agree is in regard to the Phiaton's bass performance. A "superbly tight low end" is right. In this respect, the Phiatons were at the opposite end of the spectrum from Monster's Beats. While the Beats' bass could sound loose and overripe, detracting from the music's overall impact and momentum, the Phiatons kept the low end very much under control, resulting in greater drama and drive. Which you prefer may very well come down to how you like your bottom end.

For instance, listening to Espers' "That Which Darkly Thrives" through the Phiatons was surprisingly instructive. Though their imaging wasn't quite as impressive or as thrilling as the Beats', the Phiatons' tighter low end meant that this song's deep bass and cello lines were more cleanly delineated and had greater impact. In addition, there were instrumental textures throughout the song that I hadn't appreciated through the Beats—electric guitars sounded more powerful and therefore appropriately triumphant, while acoustic guitars rang percussively in the background. This distinction is very similar to that between a band with a good rhythm section and one without: Get the foundation right, and everything else falls into place.

The Sounds

Everything is designed to be pleasing to the touch. Even the case's zipper handle is smooth and soft. To the left of the headphones, a second compartment contains the quick-start guide, warranty, and an effective antimicrobial cleaning cloth. The Beats' high-gloss finish smudges easily—you will get fingerprints on these headphones. However, the new, hot-looking white version may be less prone to smudging. Also included is a 1/8"-to-1/4" adapter and Monster iSoniTalk cable, compatible with iPhones, Blackberries, and other music-enabled cell phones. I didn't use the iSoniTalk, but I can see how it would be handy. The retail price for the Beats by Dr. Dre Studio headphones is $349.95, but you can probably find them for a lot less online. Listening
All of the listening I did on vacation in Puerto Rico was extremely casual. I listened while lying in bed, while lying on a hammock, while sitting by the pool drinking Medalla and rum. The Beats were portable, comfortable, and fairly musical, with a robust bottom end and impressive imaging.


A few weeks later, back in the States, I took the Beats with me on a New Jersey Transit train, headed for my mom's house. Again, the Beats' noise canceling worked fine. Train sounds were barely audible. Listening at moderate levels, I could only just discern the sound of the conductor's voice through the train's noisy PA system. Instead, my music became a soundtrack for what I could see through the train's dirty windows.
All listening was done using my 8GB iPod Nano; I began with a 320kbps MP3 of Pens' "Freddie." (I know: No matter the bit rate, low-quality MP3s sacrifice music for convenience, thus unambiguously contradicting the Stereophile ethos. But I wanted to try a range of material of varying quality, because that's what most users will probably do. Even John Atkinson admits that 320kbps is good enough—or sneaky enough—to fool some of the listeners some of the time.) "Freddie" sounded as it should: relentlessly driving and menacing, with an enormous amount of raw, head-banging, fist-pumping energy. An all-girl British trio of overdriven guitar, cheap synth, and broken drum kit, Pens creates a sort of punk rock that is at once ferocious and adorable—sort of like a puppy pit bull who obviously just wants to play, but scares the shit out of you as you make your way down a dark, winding road to the beach. Or something. For most of the song's 125 seconds, all I could do was stare out the window, the sun in my face, watching as the suburbs blurred by. Things were going well.
Next I turned to Valet's "Rainbow," from last year's intoxicating False Face Society (192kbps MP3; LP, Mexican Summer MEX011). This track includes whispered voices, electronic washes, wah guitar, bongos, percussive rolls and trills, the sound of skin against skin. Here, the Beats' overripe bass and thrilling imaging worked to heighten the song's intensity and allure. Honey Owens has always been seductive and mysterious, but never quite like this—not even when I listen through my hi-fi. The Beats' slightly slow, softened transients worked to tame the overcompressed electric guitar, while imparting to the bongos a wet, feline quality that I found captivating. Through the Beats, Honey Owens is everywhere. I like it when Honey Owens is everywhere.

Valet led me to the Psychic Ills' "I Take You As My Wife Again," from the New York City band's early 2009 release, Mirror Eye (320kbps MP3; LP, The Social Registry TSR066). The Psychic Ills try to hypnotize you, to transport you; this song does it with warbling electronics and percussive elements that sizzle and sway across the soundstage, from left to right and back again. Heard through the Beats, these effects were startling and tangible. I could feel the sounds sweep across the stage with a physicality that was almost unnerving, as if someone were blowing into my ears as the music played. Soundstage depth was also conveyed with a strange sort of hyperrealism: Sounds seemed to emerge from outside of my head; tinkling noises emerged from the distance with compelling detail. Midway through this 10-minute journey, the song transitions from a series of ambient gulps to a trancelike rhythm with Balinese-sounding strings. The Beats portrayed this tonal and thematic shift with a good sense of momentum and fine musicality, allowing the melody to emerge nicely while preserving the song's rhythmic thrust.


Now thoroughly hypnotized, I found myself turning, almost involuntarily, to I.U.D.'s "Glow Balls," from their penetrating (ha) 2009 release, The Proper Sex (192kbps MP3; LP, The Social Registry TSR069). At times frightening and at times absurd, I.U.D. finds Lizzi Bougatsos (Gang Gang Dance) teaming with Sadie Laska (Growing, Extreme Violence) for a heavy, dubbed-out, playful concoction of industrial sound and sexual energy. With maniacal screams, a military beat, the sounds of scraping metal, and relentless electronic clamor, "Glow Balls" could easily serve as the soundtrack to a slasher flick. And while the Beats' knack for imaging again proved useful, their hefty bass made this track sound too slow. My feeling is that the Beats were struggling to sort through the ragged textures of this densely layered track, with voices, especially, lacking their usual ferocity.

The Beats

The Beats
The Beats by Dr. Dre (9.2oz) have a chunky, padded, shiny black headband that slopes down and expands almost seamlessly into circular earcup supports. The large, oblong earcups are extremely comfortable and can swivel gently, back and forth and from side to side. Thin accents of silver and red wrap round each earpiece—a subtle, handsome touch. On the outside of each earcup is a metallic disc that curves into a graceful red b, the now-familiar logo of the popular Beats brand. Moving back up the shiny headband, four tiny hex-head screws reveal the seam at which the headphones can be expanded along their internal metal bracing. This is followed by a small Monster Cable logo and, finally, at the very apex of the band, four words: beats by dr. dre.

All this, but no sign of a battery compartment. Defeated and desperate, I consulted the quick-start guide. First sentence: "Battery compartment is located in the left earcup." Oh. Second sentence: "Press down and turn earcup cover counterclockwise." I did so, et voilà. Clever. I installed the batteries.
The right earcup has a small power switch. With the batteries installed, moving the switch to the far left activates the headphones and ignites a red LED located below the b. When the batteries run low, the LED goes amber.
Batteries. I sort of hate them. I kept forgetting to turn off the headphones. I kept draining my batteries. If you buy a set of Beats headphones, remember to turn them off at the end of your listening session, or be prepared to buy lots of batteries.
To mute your music, press and hold the metallic disc on the Beats' right earcup. Release to resume listening. Clever. Learn the deft use of this, to avoid punches in the leg.
Earlier, I mentioned the Beats' impressive packaging. Opening a set of Beats headphones reminded me of unboxing a brand-new pair of sneakers. As a kid, I'd sit there in my bedroom, staring at my new sneakers, intoxicated by that scent of leather and rubber and thick cardboard. I wonder if Dr. Dre had this in mind. At the press conference for Lady Gaga's Heartbeats, Dre had mentioned that his lawyers had originally asked him to market sneakers. "Fuck sneakers," Interscope Records chairman Jimmy Iovine told Dre. "Let's sell speakers."
Anyway, the packaging is outstanding. Do you want pride of ownership? Image? Style? Convenience? The packaging and design of Monster Cable's Beats by Dr. Dre provide all of that. You'll want to display the hefty red box in your recording studio or your bedroom, as the case may be. Pull on the silky tabs and the box unfolds like a case of an expensive set of knives, revealing the padded carrying case, already containing the Beats headphones.

Monster Beats

I was looking out the window. I was waiting for the plane to take off. I was wearing Monster Cable's Beats by Dr. Dre Studio headphones ($349.95). I was listening to Pens' burning, fuzzed-out, 27-minute onslaught, Hey Friend, What You Doing? (320kbps MP3; LP, De Stijl IND071). I was shouting with sudden shock and pain.
"Ow! What?"
My brother-in-law had reached across the aisle and punched me in the leg. He'd been trying to get my attention for a while.
"How do the headphones sound?"
"They sound good, jerk. I couldn't hear a thing you were saying." Apparently, the Beats' noise-canceling feature was working as advertised.
I had just discovered it. Moments earlier, I'd settled into my seat and plugged the Beats' seductive red cable into my iPod Nano's mini-jack. I'd selected an album and pressed Play. Nothing.
Included in the Beats' impressive packaging are two Duracell AAA batteries. I hadn't installed them. I removed the headphones and searched all over for a battery compartment. Again: Nothing. I was perplexed. And charley-horsed.