Note: for the full suite of measurements from the SoundStage! Audio-Electronics Lab, click here.
Hi-fi as physical art—that’s a concept manufacturers (and consumers) have wrestled with since sound reproduction became a thing. To deliver music into a living space, you need speakers, an amplifier, and a source component. There are many ways to accomplish this. One way is to build the speakers into the wall and sequester the electronics in another room. This works reasonably well, but it would take a monumental effort to achieve the same sound quality as that delivered by a pair of freestanding speakers and some performance-driven electronics.
If you’re reading this, odds are that you either own or are considering acquiring some standalone electronic components and a pair of dedicated speakers. Here’s an honest question: do you like the appearance of your system? When you walk into the room, do you make puppy-dog eyes at your amplifier and speakers? I don’t do that, for the most part. I do feel warm and mushy about my turntable, a VPI Prime Signature, but that’s a different story. A high-end turntable is almost a family member, the one thing I’d save in the event of a fire.
I feel differently about my electronics. The Hegel H30A amplifier is too big to hide, but even so I rarely see it, rarely consider it. Oh, it sounds fantastic; same with the matching P30A preamplifier. They’re both sonically invisible, but they’re also invisible to the eye: matte black, with no lights except one for power status on each component. They’re Scandinavian to their cores—functionality combined with a somber utilitarian appearance. And that’s fine. As I said, they sound amazing, beyond reproach. But you wouldn’t see these wonderful components in an Architectural Digest spread—the interior designer responsible for the photo shoot would have kittens.
My hands felt just like two balloons
But this component I’m looking at right now, the Marantz Model 10 integrated amplifier (US$15,000, CA$20,000, £11,999, €14,499), would fit right in. While I’m no pro photographer, I took one look at it on Marantz’s product page and instantly imagined it in my neighbor Rob’s house, sitting elegantly in his brightly sunlit living room.
So when the Model 10 arrived here in Toronto, we broke it in at Rob’s house before installing it in my system. And as I sit here writing this, I keep glancing over at the Model 10, the top of Marantz’s line. It’s stunning in a manner that manages to be understated and totally over the top at the same time. It’s a fever dream made real. Let’s explore how this is possible.
The Model 10 is the only amplifier in Marantz’s new top-line 10 Series of products. While speaking with Phil Jones, Marantz’s technical trainer, I discovered that the Model 10 was designed and is manufactured at the company’s Shirakawa facility in Japan. The 10 Series was conceived as a blank-page, cost-no-object line, to represent the best products Marantz could possibly make, with the final price points determined only after the fact.
Measuring 7.6″H × 17.3″W × 18.6″D and weighing 74 pounds, the Model 10 is fairly large and commensurately dense. Ostensibly it’s a well-finished black rectangular box, but Marantz has surreptitiously bedazzled the Model 10 by adding illumination around the perimeter of the front panel and also inside the amplifier. The top of the Model 10 is inset with a large sheet of copper mesh, and the internal illumination highlights the interior.
Before I relate to you the effects of that internal illumination, I believe it’s expedient to discuss the construction of this amplifier. The front and rear panels are machined aluminum, and the top and side panels are also thick aluminum. All interior chassis panels are copper-plated; the bottom panel is plated with three layers of copper. A copper-plated shell covers the chunky toroidal transformer. Here’s where the Marantz really shows its design chops—the interior illumination reflects off all that copper, resulting in a rich, deep well. The interior that’s visible through the appropriately copper-colored grille is divided into two sections. The front contains the toroidal transformer that’s used for the preamp section, and the rear houses the neatly appointed circuit board. Adding a touch of contrast, a row of green LEDs are attached to the circuit board.
The perimeter and interior illumination are dimmable at a fairly granular level. The front-panel display dims at a simultaneous rate; that is, the three light sources can’t be adjusted separately. Speaking of that front-panel display, it’s elegant, beautiful in its functionality, quite small, and serves many functions. It can display volume in two different scales (−99.5dB through 0dB or 0 through 100), source information, and setup menus. There’s also an option to display rudimentary VU-type meters.
Marantz’s literature suggests that the best sound quality is achieved by turning off the illumination. I left it on most of the time, only turning it off to see if it helped any. I found no noticeable difference with the illumination on or off, so I left it on because it’s just so cool.
Inputs and outputs are comprehensive. There are two sets each of balanced (XLR) and single-ended (RCA) inputs, tape monitor inputs and outputs, and both preamp outputs and power amp inputs. The Model 10 is a fully balanced design, from input to output. Signals received from the single-ended inputs are converted to balanced. Also included are all sorts of facilities to attach automation devices and remote triggers. The Model 10 has a built-in phono stage that accommodates both moving-magnet and moving-coil cartridges. The moving-coil stage provides the choice of three different impedance settings—33 ohms, 100 ohms, and 390 ohms. Running the Goldring Ethos SE cartridge on my VPI, I found the 100-ohm setting sounded best.
Perhaps I can stereotype here and state that the Marantz obviously includes bass and treble controls. They’re accessed via the remote, but since the Model 10 includes a “direct” setting that bypasses the tone controls, I did not investigate this feature.
The Model 10’s binding posts are chunky little guys, and there are two sets to accommodate biwiring. The posts are nannified though, covered in clear plastic with only small slots through which to slide spade connectors. Since the spades on the Siltech Royal Single Crown speaker cables are on the thicker side, I had to futz with them for quite a while before I managed to insert tab A into slot B. Even then, I could only fit them underneath if I slid the Model 10 flush to the rear of the stand. In all, I think your blood pressure will thank you if you stick to banana plugs with this amp.
The Model 10 is built around Purifi Audio’s Eigentakt amplifier technology, which Doug Schneider wrote about in detail back in 2020. Its Eigentakt modules are manufactured by Marantz under license from Purifi. That means the Model 10 is effectively a class-D amplifier, but (obviously) a well-built, purebred example of the breed that’s capable of cranking out 250Wpc into 8 ohms and 500Wpc into 4 ohms.
I am not a fan of busy remotes. I understand that DACs, CD players, and audio-video receivers require a whole bunch of buttons, but I don’t have to like using those types of controls. Same with the Model 10, which ships with a busy, unhelpful remote. Why include a number pad? Because Marantz bundles the same remote with the matching SACD 10 disc player–DAC and Link 10n streaming preamplifier, so one remote can be used to operate all three components.
Using it with the Model 10 amplifier is not a pleasant experience. After I’d set up the display, phono section, and tone bypass—which required only five or six of the approximately 45 buttons on the remote—I only used the volume and input buttons. And each time I picked up the remote I had to visually hunt for those buttons, as the remote isn’t illuminated, the writing is faint, and they’re indistinguishable by feel. For an amplifier this impressive, this expensive, there should be two remotes—the one that’s included, and a simpler one that controls only the volume and input selector. Volume up and down, inputs left and right, and, since we’re in the neighborhood, a mute button. Five in total, please.
One operational oddity: the Model 10’s gain seemed low via all sources I fed into it. At my usual listening level, which isn’t that loud, I generally kept the level at 70/100, and spirited sessions necessitated bumping that up to 75. That’s three-quarters of the gauge’s travel. Decreasing the setting to 50 resulted in a volume level far too low to be of any use. The volume settings seem to be somewhat logarithmic, as 75 was dramatically louder than 70. Now, please realize that this behavior isn’t an issue in any way—I adjusted to it almost immediately. It’s just a bit strange.
Although I used the remote control almost exclusively, I must give a shout-out to the Marantz engineers in regard to the Model 10’s volume and input-select dials. These controls simply nail the balance between resistance, precision, and tactile feedback. They’re just stiff enough to let you know you’re attending to an important task. A deep dive into Marantz’s documentation suggests that the knobs ride on bearings, which might help explain this tactile satisfaction.
I used the Model 10 to drive a pair of Bowers & Wilkins 805 D4 Signature standmount speakers via Siltech Royal Single Crown speaker cables. Source-wise, I started out with my VPI Prime Signature tipped with my own DS Audio DS 003 optical cartridge running through the EMM Labs DS-EQ1 phono stage. The VPI also saw action with either the Ortofon MC X40 or Goldring Ethos SE moving coils, juiced up by the Mola Mola Lupe phono stage (review pending) or by the Model 10’s own phono stage. The European Audio Team Fortissimo S turntable later went into the mix, with the matching Jo N°8 cartridge also running through the Mola Mola.
Over the last while I’ve been running the B&W 805s with a pair of the company’s DB2D subwoofers, but for the duration of this review I unplugged the subs and listened to the 805s without low-end reinforcement.
That space-cadet glow
When I first unhooked my Simaudio Moon Evolution 740P preamp and Hegel Music Systems H30A amplifier and plugged in the Model 10, I struggled for a while to hear any change. This was an auspicious start, given that I was replacing close to $30,000 worth of separates with an integrated amplifier that retails for around half that price.
I spun through a few dozen LPs; slowly, steadily, the Model 10 began to reveal itself. Slightly more forward than the Simaudio/Hegel combo, with superb retrieval of detail along with killer bass that felt like it went down an additional octave, the Model 10 immediately impressed me. This was going to be fun.
Running the Bowers & Wilkins 805 D4 Signatures with the Model 10 barking orders was a pleasure. The Model 10 felt like it had unlimited power driving these smallish bookshelves. Of course, the 805s aren’t exactly a difficult load, but you run what you brung, I guess. Still, the Model 10 sounded very much like the powerful amplifier that it is. With that, let’s get going.
I’ve been working through my yearly re-listen to Pink Floyd’s The Wall (LP, CBS Records / Sony 40AP 1750-1). I am convinced that this brilliant album will be considered one of the greatest pieces of music to come out of the 20th century. The Wall was one of the first albums I played through the Model 10, and I returned to it several times over the review period. From side 1 right through the end of side 4 of my Japanese pressing, the Model 10 kept my attention focused on the little details, the small flourishes that knit one song into the next.
The Model 10 is a detail monster. While still serving the performance as a whole, the Marantz lifted from the background those little conversational interludes that make The Wall so engrossing. “This is the United States calling—are we reaching?” The sense of flat confusion in the operator’s voice at the tail end of “Young Lust” resonated with me, drawing me into Pink’s descent into madness.
Another detail, the slamming door at the beginning of “One of My Turns,” had huge depth and excellent dynamic shock value. The ominous low notes that populate the first part of this track gained a feeling of menace that enhanced the already-mournful tenor of this album side. Deep, yes, but also well controlled. As Pink explodes and the track erupts into thrashing rock, the Model 10’s feeling of power accentuated the dynamic impacts of Nick Mason’s drums, while also shining a crisp spotlight on David Gilmour’s tasteful guitar solos. So yes, a complete performance.
Through the midrange the Model 10 presented a clear, unobstructed view of the musical event. It felt like there was a single wire taking the input signal at one end and spitting out a louder version at the other. That’s one of the main reasons I didn’t monkey with the tone controls—the Model 10 sounded like it was amplifying the music in a completely unedited manner, and the idea of doing stuff to change things felt completely unnecessary.
It was down in the bass where the Model 10 made me do a second take. The Marantz first surprised me early in the review period when I threw Talk Talk’s Laughing Stock (Polydor B0024137-01) on the Fortissimo S. There’s some seriously low bass lurking on this LP, and as “After the Flood” ramped up, the 805s launched out low notes that you wouldn’t think possible coming from such small speakers.
The Model 10’s bass is also quick. Start-stop transitions felt like they were running in real time. Keith Moon’s loose-limbed, snap-and-pop style stood out in sharp relief on “Bargain” from Who’s Next (LP, Polydor ARHSLP019). I felt Moon’s kick drum in my gut, the Model 10 projecting it outward with almost tactile force.
The only attribute where the Model 10 couldn’t quite keep up with my Simaudio/Hegel combo was in harmonic depth. As I said earlier, the Model 10 highlights the details that often fly just above the cloud cover, and this points to a slight emphasis in the upper midrange and lower treble. Every once in a while, I’d look up from whatever I was doing and note that some instruments weren’t as harmonically rich as I’ve heard them sound through my reference setup.
An example: Sonny Rollins’s breath-filled tenor sax on Original Music from the Score “Alfie” (LP, Impulse! IMP-224) wasn’t quite receiving the spit that I know it deserves. This is a rich chocolate cake of a record, jam-packed with marmalade overtones. I found my attention mostly captured by Frankie Dunlop’s ride cymbal, which is a constant throughout most of the album. That ride was beautifully presented—crisp and free of grain, full of delicacy and shimmer. But despite the cleanliness of that ride cymbal—or perhaps because of it—I wasn’t as drawn to the other stars in this recording. Rollins’s sax seemed a touch reticent, a bit further back in the mix than I’m used to. Same with Kenny Burrell’s guitar, which was missing just the smallest amount of the sparkle that I know it has.
Surprise, surprise, surprise!
The Model 10’s phono stage is good, but not quite up to the quality of the rest of the amp. I fed the Model 10 with the European Audio Team Fortissimo S turntable fronted by the matching Jo N°8 cartridge. Admittedly, this analog-front-end-and-amplifier combination isn’t likely to see daylight in any other system, given that the EAT rig is roughly the same price as the Model 10.
And, admittedly, I’m holding the Model 10’s phono stage to a very high standard, having just unplugged the Fortissimo S from the Mola Mola Lupe, which is perhaps the finest standalone phono stage I’ve yet had in my system.
Look at me working backwards to conclude that the Model 10’s phono stage is actually quite good, considering it’s built into an integrated amplifier. Still, this is SoundStage! Ultra, and I’m expected, I guess, to really hammer stuff downward rather than forgive small slights. Innate snobbery and high standards aside, I found myself easily able to enjoy listening to LPs once the aural memory of the Mola Mola had receded.
After finding out that my copy of the Cure’s Galore – The Singles 1987-1997 (Elektra 62117-1) is worth north of CA$350, I pulled it out for a quick listen to see if it’s worth $300 more than Standing on a Beach – The Singles (Elektra 96 04771), the other Cure compilation in my collection. Well, yeah, I guess there is a reason for its valuation. The Model 10’s phono stage had more than enough resolution to show me that Galore’s mastering is far superior, despite each compilation having its own distinct track listing. Through the Model 10, I could hear how much additional depth circled around Robert Smith’s voice on Galore, and how there was a thick glaze around the entire production on Standing on a Beach. There’s dynamic range on Galore, while Standing on a Beach sounds compressed to hell and back. This resolution of detail and reproduction of dynamics via the Model 10 point to a well-designed phono stage.
Perhaps the most endearing aspect of the Model 10’s phono stage was its somewhat laid-back highs, which were very slightly sweet and not the least bit grainy.
Listening through to the rest of Galore showed an impressive conveyance of rhythm, with “Just Like Heaven” especially making me smile and tap my foot along with the music. Standing on a Beach is a domestic pressing, and it was thin and cheap when I bought it new, so it’s no surprise that the highs are somewhat tizzy and out of control. The Model 10’s phono stage didn’t highlight the poor reproduction of cymbals, nor did it gloss over them.
Where the Model 10’s phono stage is lacking is in that ethereal sense of depth and layering that only the best phono stages can deliver. A case in point is the 2018 remixed version of Pink Floyd’s Animals (Pink Floyd Records PFRLP28), which just drips with ambience and hallucinogenic fever. While the Model 10’s phono stage still projected the barking dogs midway through with a good sense of wraparound, it couldn’t keep up with the Mola Mola’s miles-deep-yet-still-behind-you presentation. Still, pulling the trigger on the volume and sitting back while “Dogs” washed over me was a luxurious pleasure via the Marantz. The very slightly laid-back character of the Model 10’s phono stage meshed extremely well with the amp’s incisive, detailed nature.
Bass through the Model 10’s phono stage was quite impressive—tight and well rounded. Of course, this meshes with the Model 10 itself, which is a bass champion, so I’m not sure it’s fair to single out the phono stage as the star here.
Isn’t this where we came in?
You could build a magnificent system around the Model 10. I think that’s where the appeal lies for this amplifier. Starting with a blank slate, I can easily envision the delivery of a Model 10 into a sparsely furnished, high-ceilinged, modernist room, with a white-gloved concierge dramatically unpackaging the amp. It should then be placed upon an expensive walnut sideboard. Next would be an elegant turntable—I suggest a Thales TTT-Compact II.
Then speakers. Hunting through my aural memory for a speaker that’s equal parts excellent sound and overwhelming elegance, an obvious choice would be the Bowers & Wilkins 805 D4 Signatures that I used to evaluate the Model 10. Too easy, though, despite the obvious affinity between the two brands, given that they’re both part of Sound United, which was recently gobbled up by Harman International. An equally involving but slightly more exotic choice would be a pair of Vivid Audio Kaya 45s, speakers that still resonate in my mind six years after I reviewed them.
Cables? Crystal Cable—no doubt. Thin, elegant, dramatic in a subdued way, the Art Series Monet speaker cables would suit this system configuration far better than any thick, garden-hose monstrosities.
There you have it—an elegant modernist system, built from scratch in my mind’s eye. The fact that I went through this exercise should give you an idea of the high regard I have for this amplifier. The Model 10 is physically beautiful, for sure, but beyond that, its sound quality is commensurate with its price—fantastic bass, wonderful retrieval of detail, and a clear, grain-free top end.
Marantz has a winner on its hands. Highly recommended.
. . . Jason Thorpe
jasont@soundstagenetwork.com
Associated Equipment
- Turntables: VPI Prime Signature, European Audio Team Fortissimo S
- Cartridges: European Audio Team Jo N°8, DS Audio DS 003, Goldring Ethos SE, Ortofon MC X40
- Phono preamplifiers: Aqvox Phono 2 CI, Hegel Music Systems V10, EMM Labs DS-EQ1, Meitner Audio DS-EQ2, Mola Mola Lupe
- Preamplifiers: Hegel Music Systems P30A, Meitner Audio Pre, Simaudio Moon Evolution 740P
- Power amplifier: Hegel Music Systems H30A
- Integrated amplifiers: Hegel Music Systems H120, Eico HF-81
- Digital sources: Logitech Squeezebox Touch, Meitner Audio MA3
- Speakers: Focus Audio FP60 BE, Aurelia XO Cerica XL, Totem Acoustic Sky Tower, Bowers & Wilkins 805 D4 Signature
- Subwoofers: Bowers & Wilkins DB2D (2)
- Speaker cables: Siltech Royal Single Crown, Audience Au24 SX, Nordost Tyr 2, Crystal Cable Art Series Monet
- Interconnects: Siltech Royal Single Crown, Audience Au24 SX, Furutech Ag-16, Nordost Tyr 2, Crystal Cable Diamond Series 2
- Power cords: Siltech Royal Single Crown, Audience FrontRow, Nordost Vishnu
- Power conditioner: Quantum QBase QB8 Mk II
- Accessories: Little Fwend tonearm lift, VPI Cyclone record-cleaning machine
Marantz Model 10 integrated amplifier
Price: US$15,000, CA$20,000, £11,999, €14,449
Warranty: Five years, parts and labor
Marantz USA
5541 Fermi Court
Carlsbad, CA
92008 USA
Phone: 1-800-654-6633
Website: www.marantz.com
