Cambridge Audio 840A

By Matthew Masters

December 2006

Cambridge Audio Azur 840a amplifier. $2499

The Cambridge Audio 840a is available in both silver and black (click for larger image)

Busy rear panel (click for larger image)

The 840a's remote control (click for larger image)

In 1968 students across the world were revolting. Rioting, that is, not being revolting, which has never been restricted to a specific academic year.

It was a defining moment for student politics and the events of ’68 are still raised by misty-eyed academics trying to put some fire in the bellies of today’s somewhat earnest undergraduates.

But while Paris, Berlin, London and New York were alight with protest on an unprecedented scale, Cambridge University produced a very different kind of proletarian uprising. Somebody started an amplifier company.

True to the spirit of ’68, Cambridge Audio has always been part of the workers’ struggle, dedicated to providing quality audio for the masses. But success has brought with it aspirations that are just a little higher. And so we welcome the positively bourgeois Azur 840A amplifier.

Controlling the means of production

At first glance, the Azur 840A seems fairly typical for Cambridge Audio. It’s a product of engineering rather than styling, and in the black finish I tested is definitely not pretty.

The big display and a set of buttons arranged around its border provide distinctly undemocratic control over the seven line inputs. Individual level trimming and naming for each input, access to multi-room configuration and a decadent choice of personal preferences are all supported. Alas there’s no phono input, perhaps another betrayal of those 60s roots.

The front panel also provides controls for speaker selection (two pairs can be driven), and even some subtle tone controls. There’s also a nicely weighted volume control that produces a crescendo of clicking (as it switches relays) every time it’s turned.

Overall the Azur 840 is a bit of a capitalist pig, weighing in at over 15kg. This is due to a vast toroidal transformer inside, although the overall build quality is as solid as the weight suggests.

The back panel carries all the usual socketry plus a balanced input too. Whether that’s a sign of social climbing, or gesture of solidarity with the workers of the music industry, is up to you to judge.

Rally the workers

Like most student politicians, Cambridge Audio amplifiers have always been about enthusiasm. They weren’t always very powerful, but there was always a sense of purpose and a disturbing grasp of what really matters.

The Azur 840, however, shows a new maturity, a remarkably grown-up performance that’s backed up by a very confident 120 watts of power (into 8 ohms).

Starting with Leftfield (where else?) and their 1993 debut album Leftism, the Cambridge gives a fast, vast and confident account of some demanding basslines. The real test here is Open Up, where John Lydon’s vocals achieve a disturbing edge of cynicism that exists on a wholly different plane from the underlying bass track. The arch revolutionary is there, but unusually he isn’t the most important part of the song.

More Lenin than McCartney

Simon Jeffes’ deceptively sparse arrangements with the Penguin Café Orchestra on the group’s eponymous album (Virgin EEGCD11) show the Azur 840’s deft handling of complex rhythms in a different style. The infectious, bouncy charm of the Ecstasy of Dancing Fleas is just plain fun, but it’s quiet fun, without the need for ear-bleeding bass.

With Bernard Haitink and the Berlin Philharmonic’s Mahler 2 (Philips 475 6222), the Azur 840 had a slightly tougher time. Although the dynamic swings and general pace of the scherzo worked well, the mid range seemed a little congested. There was a slight flatness to the woodwind sections that contradicted the gorgeous depth given to brass and strings. To be completely fair though, that mid-range muddle barely ever shows itself, except with the busiest arrangements.

Overall, there’s plenty of headroom for getting loud, but there’s also a deftness that brings smaller pieces to life. Not just detail, but every subtlety of timbre and atmosphere. Solo voices and acoustic performances in small venues seem particularly intimate, with an almost disturbing disconnect between the room you are sitting in and the room you are hearing.

How much power do the people really want?

So has the Cambridge abandoned its plebeian roots? In one sense, it certainly has. The Azur 840 range is the most sophisticated and – yes – expensive equipment Cambridge Audio has ever built. But at $2,499 it’s both reasonably accessible and truly excellent value.

Just as those student revolutionaries of ’68 have grown up to become successful pillars of the establishment, so Cambridge Audio has come of age. Or perhaps middle-age. The Azur 840A amplifier stands as a shining example of Champagne socialism. Power to the people.

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