tarting with the digital inputs, I concentrated on disc replay as the most stable and highest-quality option. Using a CEC TL-2N transport, the first order of business was to establish a preferred input, and here the choice is straightforward. Running S/PDIF via either BNC or RCA connections, the sound was sprightly and, once you have the level set (of which more later), brilliantly quick, but it also had a subtle hollowness and lack of body, presence and tonal differentiation. Swapping to the AES/EBU input required a half decibel or so of extra gain to match the apparent dynamics of the S/PDIF connections, but it delivered a much richer and far more stable, fluid and controlled performance. With Jan Lisiecki’s recent recording of Beethoven Piano Concerto No.1 (Beethoven Complete Piano Concertos, directing the ASMF [Deutsche Grammophon Gesellschaft 483 7637]), the balanced connection offered a far more convincing perspective, with a more coherent sense of acoustic space and orchestral location. Whereas the S/PDIF focused on and highlighted Lisiecki’s incredible speed, exuberance and dexterity in the opening of the third movement, the balanced connection showed a far more mature reading, less splashy with more definite phrasing and a far clearer relationship between left and right hands, soloist and orchestra. The accompaniment was more planted and substantial, the musical conversation and contrasts more effective. There was no missing the greater musical sophistication of the AES/EBU’s presentation and its greater musical insight, at least in this combination.

The Daemon’s DAC is a model of clarity and smooth, musical control, long on phrase and shape at the cost of some immediacy and note-to-note detail. It’s a character that plays to the overall musical structure rather than the hesitations and hanging notes, accents and emphasis that bring out a player’s individuality and input. It’s a quality that, not surprisingly, it shares with the company’s Aeris DAC, one of my favorite standalone converters and a benchmark product at its price point. Including that performance in the Daemon at a starting price of $38,800 alters the landscape -- but should it? There are better-sounding DACs out there than the Aeris, but I’ve yet to discover one that costs less than the Daemon, or that comes in a single box. Even a unit like Total DAC’s Direct-DAC costs more than half of the Daemon’s asking price, which doesn’t leave a lot of room for amplification.

Compare the Daemon to a stack of separates and you can better its DAC, but only if you ignore the price and complexity of the system that’s doing it. Instead, the Daemon’s real competition comes from the similarly priced and even more complex CH Precision I1. The Swiss unit offers a warmer and less obviously demonstrative performance, in many ways both the perfect foil for the Daemon and the perfect illustration of its strengths. The Rowland’s DAC offers an unusual combination of cultured delivery and unbridled power, a midhall balance both in terms of its perspective and slightly rounded, slightly distant presentation. This isn’t a reach-out-and-touch musical experience, but that doesn’t mean it lacks presence and vitality -- just that you are seated further back in the hall (where the tickets are most expensive). Playing the Kleiber Fledermaus (from the Complete Recordings box [Deutsche Grammophon Gesellschaft 477 8826 GB12]) it added significantly to the sense of staging, positing the singers above and behind the orchestra in a pleasing facsimile of performance that escapes too many opera recordings. It also reflected the yearning quality in Walton’s Cello Concerto and its stark contrast with the elegiac tones of the Elgar (Steven Isserlis with Jarvi/Philharmonia [Hyperion CDA68077]), the sense of space adding to the deeply romantic sweep and atmosphere of the piece.

The flipside is that the sort of sudden dynamic shifts that can inform rock and pop, as well as classical music and jazz, were somewhat muted, the DAC sliding smoothly over the abrupt steps in level. On the one hand, such slight reticence robbed those recordings, be it Elvis Costello or Amandine Beyer, of the snap and immediacy that underpins their dramatic contrasts but, on the other, the broader orchestral sweep of a Sibelius symphony or the dense power of The Cure or a Hans Zimmer soundtrack had an awesome intensity when required.

Which brings us to the second facet of the Daemon’s character, its analog inputs and amplifier. As I’ve already noted, the Daemon is both monstrously powerful and a cool-running class-D design -- an aspect of amplification in which Rowland has been leading the way in performance terms for some years now. I’ve not had the 825 amplifier that impressed Marc Mickelson so much in my own system, but that aside, the Daemon is the most convincing class-D amp I’ve used -- although that statement comes with an important caveat: it is also one of the most level-sensitive amps that I’ve used. Play the Daemon quietly and it can sound flat, congealed and colorless. But advance the volume control -- and this is one volume control that just begs to be advanced -- and you reach an audibly obvious threshold at which the music suddenly blossoms, gaining life, texture, color and presence. That threshold can be crossed by a level increase of as little as one graduation on the digital display, but you can’t miss the transformation in the presentation and apparent energy levels. It fleshes out instruments and expands the acoustic space, it adds body and impact to dynamic shifts and a sense of purpose to the playing, quicker and more definite leading edges adding pace and verve to performances. The point at which this transition occurs varies with different recordings and different speakers, but it does help explain the Daemon’s preference for a load that it can get its teeth into. This amp is never happier than when driving wide-bandwidth speakers, preferably ones that aren’t too sensitive.

In real-world, practical terms, what does this actually mean? Let’s take Wilson Audio's Sasha DAW as a sensible partner. It could be considered a little on the sensitive side, but then it counters that with its sub-3-ohm minimum impedance. With the Vadim Repin/Martha Argerich performance of the Kreutzer Sonata [Deutsche Grammophon Gesellschaft 477 6596] via the Wadax Pre 1 DAC and the Daemon’s balanced inputs, the tipping point occurred around 49.5 on the volume control. At 49, Repin’s fiddle sounded muted and sedate, with Argerich providing a positively funereal accompaniment. But roll the wheel to the right until the display reads 50 and suddenly the violin stepped forward and grew a pair, the pauses in the playing were pregnant with effect, and what was reticence quickly became poise. Argerich’s legendary right hand woke from its slumber, and Repin’s powerful lines started to unfurl, driven by the assurance in his bowing. Faster passages were anchored by the partnering instrument, and the close musical and personal relationship between the players became not just more obvious but absolutely central to the piece.

This tells us two things, and the first is that you might well end up playing the Daemon louder than you expect, at least if you want to get the best out of it. In terms of numbers, the Kreutzer (a piece for violin and piano accompaniment, remember) registers output peaks at a shade over 89dB. In the case of the Isserlis Elgar, the volume level required was 56 and the peak outputs hit 97dB in the fourth-movement finale. That’s not the loudest the Daemon will play; it’s how loud it needs to play to really deliver on a musical level. The second and perhaps more interesting point is that the smoothness that characterizes the digital inputs is definitely a DAC artifact. Okay, so the Wadax Pre 1 Ultimate is both a stellar DAC and one of those units that costs more than the Daemon complete, but it does demonstrate just what the Rowland amplifier is capable of.

Thinking back to at least one set of potential customers -- the downsizing baby-boomers -- these are conclusions that might just conflict with a buyer’s assumptions. On the one hand, downsizing involves more than just the audio system, but generally its accommodation too. I’m not sure just how the Daemon’s musical enthusiasm will go over in the average apartment complex or condo development. On the other hand is the conflict with that leap of faith, which suggests that henceforth the entire music library will be virtual or captured on a hard drive or server. Mind you, looking on the bright side, the performance available on analog sources might just come as a shock to upgrading personal-audio users and jaded audiophiles alike. The review model arrived with HP phono cards installed, and the obvious next step was to give them a whirl.

Previous experience with the standard phono boards (used in both the Capri preamp and Continuum S2 integrated) suggests that their diminutive dimensions and apparent simplicity are deceptive. The HP board is only a little bigger, meaning that the DIP switches used to set loading are truly tiny. Even so, the positioning of the boards right at the top of the chassis rear means that, although adjustments require removal of the lid, changing settings is surprisingly easy -- a good thing given that I got to try the Daemon with the Clearaudio Goldfinger Statement, Lyra Skala and a modified Denon DL-103, cartridges that demand distinctly different loads. In keeping with the spirit of simplicity embodied in the one-box approach, the turntable selected was the VPI Classic 4, whose bluff, four-square chassis matches the Daemon’s aesthetic rather well. It also sports the JMW 12" tonearm, which allowed the quick-and-simple cartridge swaps so critical when it comes to assessing phono stages.

The first thing to note is the absence of a ground post on the Daemon (I finally found something Rowland overlooked), meaning that I had to ground the tonearm via an unused input. With that minor inconvenience sorted, the HP boards delivered a nearly silent background, even at high volume levels. More importantly, they exhibited exactly the sort of easy musical expression and flow that you should expect from a good record player. Differences between cartridges were clear, with the benefits of the big Clearaudio particularly apparent. But what really intrigued me was just how comfortably the Denon DL-103 generator, rehoused in a milled-aluminum body, dovetailed with the Daemon amplifier’s sonic characteristics. Big and bold, rich and rounded, the '103 has never been a high-res cartridge, but its body, presence and broad tonal palette gave the Daemon just what it needed to make the most of an otherwise modest front-end. Sure, the added dynamic range, impact, separation and detail of the Goldfinger were sonically spectacular, delivered via the Daemon’s willing power delivery, but the Denon delivered spectacular value in purely musical terms.

With Vampire Weekend’s winsomely eclectic country rock (Father Of The Bride [Columbia 19075930141], so reminiscent of Paul Simon’s Graceland, just without the overtly African influence), the sound was full of the intimacy and delicacy that make the band so engaging, while Julia Fischer’s Bach Sonatas and Partitas (on PentaTone, no catalogue number) was presented with a beautifully balanced sense of instrumental focus and presence, neither etched nor overblown, just effortlessly fluid and articulate, giving shape and purpose not just to the familiar, individual phrases but the pieces as a whole, something it’s easy to lose when a cartridge or phono stage digs too deep. Larger-scale works were just as deftly handled, Argerich’s seminal, dramatic and explosive Prokofieff 3rd Piano Concerto (in this case the recent reissue [Deutsche Grammophon Gesellschaft 0289 479 4548]) full of power, purpose and contrast, yet presented without a hint of strain or glare. The clashing piano chords never became strident and the pace never slurred or stumbled, irrespective of the orchestral complexity or density. The overall impression created was one of calm, easy and unflustered control, the amplifier so safely within its comfort zone that it never had to grip too tightly, instead allowing the performance an unfettered, full rein. The resulting musical insight and communication were as impressive as they were unforced, allowing the listener to really relax and forget the system entirely, reveling instead in this remarkable musical tour de force.

While the caveat over precise volume levels still applies, given the difficulty of delivering first-rate phono performance (and make no mistake, this was truly first-rate) the $1100 asking price for the HP boards -- albeit as an add on to a $38,000 integrated amp -- is such ridiculously good value it's almost laughable. Well, I was laughing anyway. Just remember that that performance isn’t limited to the phono input, the other line-level analog inputs being similarly impressive. One thing is for sure: audiophiles who buy the Daemon and ignore the analog inputs are selling their amplifier -- and their listening pleasure -- seriously short.

Not so long ago, the notion of an integrated amplifier at this price level was so alien that the rare few that existed, such as the Audio Note (Japan) Ongaku, were seen as aberrations or mere curiosities. Of course, the rise of the do-it-all, single-box digital integrated has changed the way in which singe-box solutions are viewed -- and changes in the market have done the rest. Where systems at this price point were once the de facto domain of separates, an increasing number of expensive integrated units are offering a challenge. The Daemon isn’t the most expensive integrated out there -- leaving aside the really eclectic and exotic, there’s the D’Agostino Momentum integrated, which weighs in at $45,000 -- but alongside the aforementioned and identically priced CH Precision I1, it does set the standard against which all others will be judged, a situation which makes close comparison between the two almost inevitable.

On paper, at least. the Swiss unit has the edge: more compact, it boasts bigger numbers on its digital inputs (including the ability to decode native SACD from the matching D1 transport -- albeit at a price) greater versatility and configurability and a conventional class-AB output stage to please the purists. However, in practice, those benefits are largely illusory: the Rowland's DAC might lack big numbers, but then as a whole legion of audiophiles are learning all over again, bigger numbers alone don’t guarantee better sound. Likewise, most class-D amplifiers flatter to deceive, but Jeff Rowland’s class-D designs are not the norm, and the Daemon’s amplification stage is sonically and musically superb. Throw in a comprehensive array of inputs covering pretty much all the necessary options and the requirement for the CH Precision’s card-cage versatility is also rendered moot.

So what we actually have are two extremely capable, apparently equivalent but distinctly different solutions to the same set of problems. The CH Precision I1 offers a warmer overall balance, long on stability and a natural sense of musical proportion, irrespective of level. Despite a healthy rated output, it favors livelier and more efficient speakers. In contrast, the Daemon likes nothing better than a wide-bandwidth speaker that really needs to be driven -- and a listener who is not afraid to depress the accelerator. Its digital inputs major on presenting the musical whole rather than the constituent elements, but that is no bad thing when it comes to long-term listening pleasure and it is a welcome alternative to the sonic deconstruction that typifies so many of the big-number/high-res DACs on the market these days.

f the Daemon’s digital inputs might be described as putting tradition ahead of technology -- a viewpoint that could be positive or negative, depending on your own perspective and system biases -- the jewel in its crown is the remarkable performance of its analog inputs and the high-value phono option, a replay chain that genuinely challenges the performance of equivalently priced separates. It is this that really cements and characterizes the Daemon’s appeal. Where the CH Precision I1 might be described as compact, competent, understated and innately male, at least in terms of appearance, the Daemon is big (but not too big), bold (but not gauche), beautifully intuitive (and tactile) and fully in touch with its female side -- altogether more Oswald Boateng than the I1’s Saville Row. Of course, there are customers for both, but if the downsizing baby boomer is more than just a figment of an overactive marketing imagination, the Rowland Daemon is perfectly placed to meet his needs, in terms of both physical and musical satisfaction. At the same time, it also has the aesthetic integrity, fit, feel and performance to represent (and just as importantly, communicate) a step up in level for all those brought up on portable music and docking stations -- but looking for (and able to afford) something considerably better. If high-end audio is struggling to come to terms with the future, it could do worse than take a long, hard look at the Daemon. With a presentation and performance that look both forward and backward in terms of source components and technology, the Rowland integrated possesses that vital retro aspect so essential to establishing 21st-century cool -- and which allows it to fit equally seamlessly into first homes and last.

Does the Daemon sound as good as it looks? The answer is still no, but that phono stage brings it awfully close.