Two months ago, I recounted my experience opening a box overflowing with enough Siltech Royal Single Crown cables to wire my system. While my impulse was stronger than you can imagine—to simply tear open each box and shove the entire set of cables into the system—I opted for a more cautious approach. Since the review article and that column went live on the same day, it seemed more logical to audition the speaker cables first, so they were connected to the system. After the review, I found myself staring intently at those unopened, incredibly high-end cable boxes.

This enjoyment was briefly interrupted by a small accident I caused myself. In the fall of 2024, I forgot to properly turn off the outdoor water tap in my backyard. The correct procedure is: turn off the water in the equipment room, go outside, disconnect the hose, and turn on the tap. Then return inside and open the vent valve connected to the shut-off valve. This allows air to enter, letting the water trapped in the pipes drain through the tap.

I forgot to turn on the outdoor tap.

Canadian winters are cold, and the water left in the pipes froze, expanded, and cracked the copper pipes. This spring, when I went outside to turn off the tap so I could turn the water back on, I realized I was in deep trouble—the tap was still off! “Oh no!” Sure enough, when I turned on the indoor valve, I heard water gushing out from the crack in the pipe.

I admit my stupidity. I’ve lived in this house for 26 years, and I’ve done this twice before. So this is the third time I’ve screwed myself over.

The water pipe ran through the wall directly behind my right-hand speaker. Repairs required cutting through the drywall and removing the soaked insulation. I’ve cut and welded pipes myself before, but at this age, I felt I was mature enough to call a plumber. He rushed over and fixed the pipe for $200. I replaced the insulation and then cut and installed new drywall. My neighbor Rob heard my agonizing cries through an online audiophile group and came running over with a bucket of plaster putty. It took him a few days to apply the tape and smooth out the patch, while I sanded and applied two coats of paint.

The whole process took almost two weeks, partly because Rob was too busy, but more so because I didn’t even want to look at the mess I’d made. A good “journalist” might have taken photos of the process and shared them in this post, but he did that last time I messed up, so let him do it this time.

Anyway, the two-week hiatus gave me enough time to plan my “attack” strategy for this Siltech project. I’ll be using a two-stage pincer movement. Since we’ve already started with the speaker cables, it seems more convenient to run new cables from the “tail end” of the system (amplifier) ​​towards the source. This means “attacking” my Hegel Music Systems H30A amplifier first. The first step is a pair of 2-meter (6.6-foot) balanced cables ($17,560, €15,360) long, connected to my Simaudio Moon Evolution 740P preamplifier. The thick plugs made threading the cables under the equipment rack a little tricky, but overall not too bad. A cloth pouch covering the plugs protected them and my floor, but also collected years’ worth of accumulated dust. Once aligned, the Oyaide Focus XLR plugs slid smoothly into the socket, their robust build and finely knurled texture making the task easy. Notably, the XLR plugs use a locking system, replacing the traditional raised button with a push-pull knurled ring.

Next, I unpacked and unfolded a 2-meter power cord (US$9,985 each, €8,760). My first impression was one of uncompromising sturdiness. Thicker than speaker wire in the middle, with sturdy plugs at both ends, I could almost imagine swinging it like a morning star hammer in a battle. Peeling back the cloth pouch was like peeling back a giant foreskin, revealing the custom plugs, their size perfectly matching the power strip housing. The plugs are made of solid tellurium copper, gold-plated and polished to a high gloss. Having gone this far, I unloaded another power cord and tucked it behind the Simaudio amplifier. This meant my entire amplification chain was now using Royal Single Crown cables.

After putting everything back in its place and arranging the empty boxes, I turned on my Meitner Audio MA3 streaming player and played Talk Talk’s “Laughing Stock” (16-bit/44.1kHz FLAC, Polydor/Tidal) on my Roon.

Everything went smoothly, but the cables were brand new and hadn’t been broken in, so I decided to leave the system alone for now. It sounded excellent, without a doubt, but my system has always sounded great since the Bowers & Wilkins 805 D4 Signature bookshelf speakers arrived. However, I noticed a sense of cohesion across the entire frequency range, something I described when reviewing the Siltech speaker cables. This is perfectly reasonable, since the speaker cables are still in use in the system.

Yes, I was a bit rushed here, but adding Royal Single Crown cables upstream of the amplifier definitely improved the sense of space and imaging around the instruments. I heard the ending of *Runeii* and was immediately captivated by Mark Hollis’s sorrowful, lonely guitar sound. For most of the song, it was the only instrument sharing Hollis’s equally melancholic voice occupying the front of my room. With the Siltech cables, the sound of his fingers sliding across the strings, and the onset of the plucked notes, were significantly enhanced.

I didn’t expect Roon to play me the next song: *Humdrum* (16/44.1 FLAC, Real World Productions / Tidal) from Peter Gabriel’s self-titled debut album (one of four). It’s undeniably a remaster, although Roon didn’t provide much information; but I honestly don’t remember this song sounding like this before. Like with *Runeii*, I was captivated by the guitar sound. It stood out so clearly in the space, almost visible, each plucked string a distinct entity, vividly and realistically presented within the space.

At that moment, my system sounded slightly more lively than ideal, so I turned off the lights, left the room, and let Roon play a whole bunch of 80s progressive rock on its own.

The next day, things were a bit calmer. The system still maintained that newly discovered transient processing, exhibiting a kind of dynamism that it had always had a bit of before, but was now fully unleashing. I really enjoyed what Roon’s Roon Radio function was doing. When I came back into the room, one of my favorites was playing: Japan’s “Ghosts” from the album *Tin Drum* (16/44.1 FLAC, Virgin Records / Tidal). I was immediately captivated by David Sylvian’s rich tenor voice, flowing like chocolate from the speaker’s mid-bass units. I also found myself starting to focus on the background details of the song. The subtle chirps, creaks, and vibratos that once punctuated “Ghosts” are now much more clearly defined in space.

For me, the climax of “Ghosts” is that dynamic beat in the chorus. I think it’s a blend of fretless bass and synthesizer, percussively embellishing Sylvian’s vocals and giving the song a life beyond its actual playing time. Like a sip of fine wine, with a long, lingering finish. I’ve always been drawn to this song, but with the addition of Siltech cables, I feel closer to it, closer to being able to reach out and touch the music.

Over time, the Royal Single Crown cables have stabilized, and the system has developed a sensory refinement. I’d like to call it texture, but I don’t think that’s exactly the word I’m looking for. The word can carry some negative connotations, and I’m definitely not going in that direction. Texture is something only tube equipment can achieve, which can be an advantage or a disadvantage, depending on your perspective. For me, it’s an absolutely exhilarating, hand-raising advantage. Harmonic integrity, texture, and sensuality are all part of the nuances of well-made music.

I keep a playlist of 80s songs generated by Roon Radio and play it frequently. Another classic that reminds me of my late teens smoking marijuana is “All Tomorrows Parties,” also a Japanese song, this time from the album *Quiet Life* (16/44.1 FLAC, Sony Music/Tidal). The interplay of old-fashioned saxophone-like keyboards and crackling electric guitars creates the atmosphere of a prefectural market amusement park at dusk. Switching to Royal Single Crown cables brings the texture of these instruments to the forefront, making them an integral part of the music.

Goodbye to those effeminate, squeaky progressive rock tracks. Without a doubt, the most substantial recording in my collection is Vladimir Ashkenazy’s rendition of Franz Schubert’s Sonata in G major, Op. 78 (LP, London CS6820). The first movement, “Fantasie,” dominates the entire A-side, its structure vast. It’s not complex music, entirely composed of deep, resonant left-hand notes, but what makes it so powerful is the emotion and energy Ashkenazy pours into it. I’ve heard other versions of this sonata, but I always return to this devastating recording.

With the Siltech cables in the amplification chain, both the beginning and end of each note are enhanced. The onset gains a faster, more impactful rise, and the tails of each keystroke feel longer, fading into infinity. These are significant and substantial improvements.

After plugging in the Royal Single Crown power and signal cables, I paid close attention to the overall tonal balance of the system but found no noteworthy changes. After the cables were broken in, the slight extra harshness and hiss in the high frequencies disappeared; the remaining changes—the depth of the soundstage, the refinement of the midrange, and the dynamic transients—dominated my perception, as expected. Cables often play the role of tone control: boosting bass, raising or suppressing treble—I don’t want that. My system, equipped with Bowers & Wilkins 805 D4 Signatures, already sounds near perfect. If I were only using Royal Single Crown speaker cables, I’d say I wouldn’t want to change anything. But what I hear now is less of a change and more of a refinement, a major overhaul, an enhancement of everything beautiful about music.

The story doesn’t end there. I still have a power cable, an XLR signal cable, and an RCA tonearm cable to test, but I’ll save those for the next installment of the *For the Record* column. I’m really looking forward to seeing how these cables perform as upgrades to my vinyl system.