Logitech Squeezebox

By Matthew Masters

December 2007

Logitech Squeezebox wireless network music player. $599

Logitech Squeezebox

Rear of the Squeezebox

The cable debate, that old chestnut. Do they or don’t they make a difference? There’s a near-religious fervour to cable bores, believers and non-believers alike.

Every time a cable discussion breaks out, I’m half expecting the suicide bombers to appear. Or at least a decent sized squad of jackbooted enforcers ready to drag the heretics off for re-education.

Pre-burned, oxygen-free silver with symmetrical crystalline cores and beryllium connectors versus a piece of damp string fished from the bargain bin at Dick Smith. Quantum normalisation and the unknowable mysteries of music on one side, psychoacoustics and blind testing on the other.

Now I have to admit that I am a little bit of a cable sceptic. In a gentle, not completely convinced sort of way. So imagine my surprise when a wireless network music player actually convinced me that cables do matter.

WiFi goes hi-fi

The advent of wireless music sharing has seemed something of a blessed relief to me. The chance to get on with listening to computer-served music on my main system (or anywhere in the house), without beating myself up about long cable runs.

That, at least in part, seems to be the point of the Logitech (neé Slim Devices) Squeezebox, wireless network music player that I’ve been tinkering with these last few weeks.

The Squeezebox is, essentially, a 24 bit Burr-Brown DAC with WiFi and Ethernet networking capability. The whole thing is packed into a remarkably neat little box measuring just 192mm x 93mm x 80mm with a sizable display on the front that shows the current track title and helps navigate the various functions.

Opening Pandora’s box – my cable epiphany

Obviously, the Squeezebox’s main input mode is via the built-in 802.11g wireless networking capability. But still there are wires to be considered.

Despite following Logitech’s instructions to the letter I could not persuade it to communicate with my Mac network wirelessly. Every time it would recognise the network and log on, but completely fail to establish any meaningful connection.

Several very frustrating attempts later, I tried an Ethernet cable and while it wasn’t the plug-and-play experience I had expected, it did at least work. It was a cable that made the difference. I’m a believer.

Wireless, schmireless

Once connected – with or without wires – using the Squeezebox requires software to be downloaded from Logitech’s website. Slim Server is available for Mac OSX, Windows, Unix and Linux, and allows the Squeezebox to pluck any music tracks it finds from your computer. iTunes and Windows Media libraries are plundered automatically, but you can specify other directories and disks to be searched. What the application won’t let you do is rip your CDs, so you’ll have to find some other utility for that.

The Squeezebox doesn’t seem fussy about codecs, dealing happily with MP3, AAC, WMA or the various lossless file formats quite happily.

Another epiphany (or maybe the second coming)

The frustrations of installation didn’t endear me to the Squeezebox, and by the time I actually played some music through the ‘box, I was quite ready to dislike it intensely.

Except that as soon as the first simple guitar chords and gently hollow vocals of Feist’s 1234 slipped from my speakers, I knew there was something rather good going on.

Actually, it was better than a bit good, it was very good indeed. I even went back to the file to make sure that it really was an MP3. There was detail and atmosphere and subtlety aplenty. All the things that usually get lost with low-rate rips.

The ‘box was even better with lossless encoding, and I began to see why it has such a loyal following.

Details, details

The massive over-production of Frankie Goes To Hollywood’s Welcome to the Pleasure Dome becomes layer after layer of exquisitely pointless detail. Each one takes its place in a soundstage that’s as expansive as the track is long.

Although the presentation definitely seems focused around high-frequency performance, the Squeezebox never seemed fatiguing or bright. It has, perhaps, been voiced to flatter MP3s, and although it surely does that there doesn’t seem to be any awful trade-off elsewhere.

Even large-scale choral music seems to work well. The Monteverdi Choir’s 1986 performance of Mozart’s Requiem (Philips 420 197-2) is gutsy and as moving as one should expect from the piece. Each section of the choir is perfectly placed, with a proper sense of individual voices. The Squeezebox also manages to bring the foundations of the orchestra to bear, giving real weight to a recording my Rega Planet presents as somewhat thin.

Cables good – Squeezebox very good

A couple of metres of cheap CAT5 were all it took to change my mind about cables. Yes, they certainly are essential. Or seemed so for the Squeezebox. But despite the obvious disappointment of not getting the wireless bit working, I still think that it’s an astonishing bargain.

Perhaps the Squeezebox’s user interface is a bit clunky (it is, believe me), but its audio performance is exemplary. It would be a decent buy at $1500. For $600 it’s a steal, and if I had to replace my Rega Planet tomorrow, the Squeezebox would be right at the top of my list. Is that the sound of someone opening a can of worms?

Have your say!

Tell us what you think about this article. Email your comments.

Talk about this article on the AudioEnz Forums.