Two months ago, I related my experience as I dug into a carton filled with sufficient Siltech Royal Single Crown cables to wire up the core of my system. Although I was tempted—more than you can imagine—to simply rip open each box and stuff the full set into my system, I took a measured approach. With the review going live on the same day as that column, it made more sense to check out the speaker cables first, so into the system they went. After I’d finished the review, I found myself eyeing those unopened boxes of screamingly high-end cables.
That treat was derailed for a short spell by a self-inflicted domestic crisis. In the fall of 2024, I had neglected to follow the correct procedure for shutting off the backyard outside faucet. The right way to do it is to turn off the water in the utility room, head outside, disconnect the hose, and open the faucet. Then, back inside, open up the vent nipple attached to the shutoff valve. This allows air to enter, which enables the water still in the pipe to drain out through the faucet.
I forgot to open the outside faucet.
Winters get cold here in Canada, and the water still in the pipe froze, expanded, and split the copper. I realized I was in trouble when I went outside this spring to close the faucet so that I could turn on the water. It was still closed, which was an “Oh, no” moment. Sure enough, when I opened the valve inside, I heard water gushing out from the split in the line.
Here’s where I admit to my own stupidity. I’ve lived in this house for 26 years, and in that time I’ve done this twice already. So this was the third time I’ve screwed myself.
The faucet supply line runs through the wall directly behind my right speaker. The fix necessitated cutting out the drywall and pulling out the wet insulation. I have, in the past, cut and soldered in new pipe, but at this point in my life I decided I’m mature enough to call in a plumber. He came posthaste, and $200 later the pipe was fixed. I replaced the insulation, then cut and installed new drywall. My neighbor Rob heard my anguished cry through the audiophile ether and came a-running with a pail of drywall compound. Over a couple of days, he taped and skimmed the patch, which I sanded and finished with two coats of paint.
This whole process took nearly two weeks, partly due to Rob’s busy schedule, but more from my unwillingness to even look in the direction of the problem that I had caused. A better journalist might have taken photos of the process to share in this article, but I did that the last time this happened, so screw that action.
Anyway, that two-week break gave me sufficient time to figure out a plan of attack for this Siltech project. I would approach it in a two-phase, pincer movement. Since I had started with the speaker cables, it seemed expedient to run fresh cables from the business end of the system back toward the source. This meant initially attacking my Hegel Music Systems H30A amplifier. First up was a pair of 2m (6.6′) balanced interconnects (US$17,560, €15,360) running back to my Simaudio Moon Evolution 740P preamp. The chunky termination blocks made it a touch tricky to feed the cable underneath my equipment rack, but not too bad overall. The cloth pouches fitted over the blocks protected them and my floor, but they also picked up some dust bunnies that had collected over the years. Once aligned, the Oyaide Focus XLRs slid smoothly into the sockets, their solid heft combined with well-machined knurling making this an easy task. Notably, the XLR connector features a locking system that consists of a push-pull knurled ring in place of the traditional protruding button.
Next, I unboxed and uncoiled one of the 2m power cords (US$9985, €8760 each). My first impression was of uncompromising solidity. Thicker through the middle than the speaker cables, with stout connectors at both ends, I could almost see myself swinging this thing over my head in battle like a morningstar. Peeling back the cloth pouch—like a giant foreskin—exposed the custom connectors, which are scaled to match the termination blocks. The connectors are made from solid tellurium copper, gold-plated and polished to a high gloss. Since I’d gone this far, I decanted one more power cable and stuffed it up the Simaudio’s backside. This meant that my entire amplification chain was now wired up with Royal Single Crown cables.
After I pushed everything back where it belonged and piled up the empty boxes, I fired up my Meitner Audio MA3 streamer and cued up Talk Talk’s Laughing Stock (16-bit/44.1kHz FLAC, Polydor / Tidal) on Roon.
All well and good right there, but the cables were brand new, not burned in, so I decided to pay the system no mind. It sounded excellent, that’s for sure, but my system has sounded that way since the arrival of the Bowers & Wilkins 805 D4 Signature standmounts. Still, I was immediately aware of the sense of coherence throughout the frequency range that I’d described in my review of the Siltech speaker cables. Totally reasonable, given that the speaker cables were still in the system.
Yes, I rushed it here, but the addition of the Royal Single Crown cables upstream of the amplifier added instant gains in space around instruments, and in the solidity of images. I caught the tail end of “Runeii” and found myself captured by Mark Hollis’s sad, lonesome guitar, which, for much of the track, is the only instrument sharing the front of my room with Hollis’s equally mournful voice. The changeover to the Siltech cables dramatically enhanced the sound of his fingers sliding up and down the strings, and the attack of the plucked notes.
I wasn’t prepared for the next song that Roon threw out at me: “Humdrum,” from Peter Gabriel’s first of four eponymous solo albums (16/44.1 FLAC, Real World Productions / Tidal). Admittedly, this was a remastered version, although Roon didn’t provide me with much information; still, I can’t recall the track ever sounding like this. As with “Runeii,” I was transfixed by the guitar, which stood out in space so clearly that I could almost see it. Each strummed string existed as its own separate entity, alive and present in space.
At this point, my system was a touch livelier than might be considered ideal, so I turned off the lights, vacated the room, and left Roon to grumble away to itself with a whole bunch of ’80s progressive rock.
The next day, things had calmed down a touch. The system still had that newfound way with transients, showing a quickness that it always kinda, sorta had, but was now in full flourish. I really liked what Roon had been doing with its Roon Radio feature. I walked in on a favorite of mine—Japan’s “Ghosts,” from Tin Drum (16/44.1 FLAC, Virgin Records / Tidal), and was immediately captured by David Sylvian’s rich tenor, which squirted out of the speakers’ midrange–woofers like chocolate. I also found myself focusing on the background happenings in this track. There are all sorts of little chirps, squeaks, and trills sprinkled through “Ghosts,” and now they were much more clearly placed in space.
For me, the highlight of “Ghosts” is the dynamic beat that comes in on the chorus. I think it’s a mix of fretless bass and synth, and it punctuates Sylvian’s voice in a percussive manner that gives this song a life that extends beyond its actual playing time. It’s like the taste of a high-quality red wine that lingers long after it’s swallowed. I’m always captivated by this track, but I found myself closer to it with the addition of the Siltech cables—more inclined to reach out and touch the music.
As time went by and the Royal Single Crown cables settled in, the system developed a feeling of sensual delicacy. I’d like to call this quality texture, but I don’t think that’s quite what I’m looking for. That word can have some negative connotations, and that’s definitely not where I’m heading. Tube electronics do texture, and that can be a positive or a negative, depending on your standpoint. To me, it’s a raging, fist-in-the-air positive. Harmonic completeness, texture, sensuality—they’re all a part of the granularity of well-produced music.
I saved the ’80s playlist that Roon Radio had conjured up, and I’ve been coming back to it with some regularity. Another blast from my hash-smoking late-teenage years was “All Tomorrows Parties”—also a Japan track, this time from Quiet Life (16/44.1 FLAC, Sony Music / Tidal). The backing keyboards that evoke old-timey saxophones interplay with the crackling electric guitar, combining to generate a county-fair amusement park at twilight. The swap-over to the Royal Single Crowns brought the texture of those instruments to the forefront, making it an integral part of the music.
Enough lame-ass, squeaky progressive rock. Without a doubt, the weightiest record in my collection is Vladimir Ashkenazy’s performance of Franz Schubert’s Sonata in G Major, Op. 78 (LP, London CS6820). The first movement, “Fantasie,” which takes up the entire first side, is structurally massive. This isn’t complicated music, being all low, sonorous left-hand notes, but it’s the emotion, the power that Ashkenazy pours into this piece that makes it so insanely powerful. I’ve listened to other versions of this sonata, and I keep coming back to this planet-smasher.
With the Siltechs in the amplification chain, both ends of each note were juiced up. The leading edge gained a quicker sense of ramping up to full impact, while the tails of each key strike continued on just a little further in perception as they trailed off into infinity. These were notable, substantial gains.
After inserting the Royal Single Crown power cords and interconnects, I paid a fair bit of attention to the system’s tonal balance, but didn’t notice any overt changes worth mentioning. Once the cables had broken in, the small amount of additional bite and sizzle up top vaporized, and I was left with the changes to soundstage depth, midrange delicacy, and dynamic snap consuming my awareness. And this is as it should be. Cables often act as tone controls: boosting bass, increasing or subduing treble. I don’t want that. My system, with the Bowers & Wilkins 805 D4 Signatures, sounds as close to perfect as it ever has. With just the Royal Single Crown speaker cables in place, I’d have said I don’t want to change anything. But what I’m hearing now isn’t so much a change as it is a refinement, a housecleaning, an enhancement of everything that’s good about music.
The story doesn’t end here. I still have one power cable, one XLR interconnect, and one RCA phono cable left to evaluate, but I’m saving those for an upcoming installment of For the Record. I really want to see how these cables perform as an upgrade to my vinyl rig.
. . . Jason Thorpe
jasont@soundstagenetwork.com
