Flemming Erik Rasmussen — Out Of The Darkness

The rain poured down. The night, the rain, and the billions of neon lights were like a scene from one of my all-time favorite movies, Blade Runner. One could almost expect police cruisers hovering in the air, scanning for runaway replicants on the crowded streets. I loved it!

But I was on a different mission. I was in Hong Kong to introduce Gryphon’s first preamplifier, the conceptual precursor to all our preamplifiers that would follow. After a very successful introduction at a dealer showroom the next day, the word was out.

Hong Kong is a small place with a lot of people, and the high-end audio community is strong and passionate; news travels fast. I was invited to visit the legendary local reviewer and hi-fi guru Leo Fung in his famous black room in Kowloon. He was the head figure of a small group of obsessed audiophiles, known as the Night Owls.

The name made sense, as I was invited around midnight to conduct an intimate demonstration for eight Night Owls—a session that would change the future of my new company forever.

Sometimes you meet a person whom you immediately know is a kindred spirit, a soulmate. Leo was one of those individuals. He had a background in fashion design and export manufacturing, was a great photographer, an art aficionado, a music recorder, and a master audiophile, as well as having an addiction for interesting timepieces. Definitely my kind of guy—and over the years, we would become good friends.

The room was quite small, with a sloping ceiling and angled side walls. There was a good amount of diffusion and minimal absorption, just as I prefer. Everything was black; only a violin on the wall, lit by a pinspot, cut through the darkness like a lightsaber.

This took place over 35 years ago, so I am not totally certain about the system components. The speakers were a tall pair of Australian Duntech Queens, which I had previously been impressed by in Las Vegas. I believe the turntable was a Goldmund Studio (like my own), and the amp may have been an FM Acoustics, which I was also familiar with. And then, the Gryphon Preamplifier—no other name but that. Its design, with four cabinets joined only by two nonconductive faceplates, the obvious dual-mono concept, external power supply, and battleship build, made an impression. And it was black.

We set the system up by torchlight, making no changes except for the preamp, so the audience—extremely familiar with the system—had only one unknown factor to evaluate. I was sitting in the dark, presenting the products, my intentions, and the values important to me. It was strange, sitting in the dark and not seeing anyone, but I was comfortable, as I had always struggled with addressing crowds. In the safety of the dark, I believe I made a good personal presentation.

It soon became clear that I was one of their own kind of audiophile, not just another professional sales rep from a large audio corporation, like the many who had been in the black room before me.

Listening in total darkness is a special experience—not everyone has the opportunity, and not everyone even likes it. I am a strong believer in listening in the dark. We are trying to create the illusion of the presence of something that is not actually there. We must fool the brain. The ears hear something that supports the illusion, but the eyes—and everything you see—work against it.

We try to create the impression of a room or soundstage that is deeper and wider than the walls your eyes can perceive, especially if something eye-catching hangs on the back wall, or there’s a window. I had experimented extensively with this phenomenon and drew on my artistic background to find solutions.

Closing your eyes is the obvious answer, but closing your eyes while awake is an unnatural condition—your body immediately wants to fall asleep. Listening in the dark with eyes wide open is entirely different and supports the illusion your system is trying to conjure.

Another option, based on my artistic training, is to create a background you cannot focus on—an illusion of a deep hole painted on a flat canvas. Pure black does not work, but a very dark Parisian blue creates a much deeper effect. Vantablack, the scientific name of a recently invented ultra-black with essentially zero reflection, will be a fantastic choice once it becomes available as a wall paint.

Obviously, the master Owl, Leo, was aware of this.

The first sound from the system came as a shock, instantly commanding 110% of your attention. The stage unfolded before us. It was a Puccini opera—La Bohème, I believe—and the placement of the singers on the stage was so authentic that it sent our hair standing on end.

There was no projection of musicians into your face, no singers pushed unnaturally close. There was a line, and from that line everything unfolded in depth, extending far beyond the walls we knew—but could no longer see—were there. The depth was not the common cone-shaped, truncated form, with everything deep in the center and moving forward toward the sides. All singers and the orchestra remained clearly positioned, even during large dynamic passages.

In systems with amplification that relies on shared, under-dimensioned power supplies, the soundstage often deforms because the balance of power distribution is compromised. This is one of the many reasons we value dual-mono designs with very large power supplies so highly. The left channel truly does not care what the right channel is doing, and never has to share its resources.

This has been a cornerstone of Gryphon topology, as important today as it was then.

We listened for hours in silence, but the atmosphere spoke for itself. People kept requesting old familiar recordings—the classic audiophile urge to rediscover everything and hear it as if for the first time.

I sold five Gryphon preamps that night, and the adventure began.

Years later, Leo Fung closed a review with words that, to this day, remain the greatest compliment ever:

“I stopped testing and listened to music. Perhaps that was the real magic of the Gryphon.” — Leo Fung, Hong Kong

Flemming E Rasmussen

For the past four years, Flemming Erik Rasmussen has been with Audio Group Denmark as a design advisor and has played a role in the design of the 880 amplifier, together with Michael Borresen.