Plinius SA-103 Stereo Power Amplifier (Silver)

Plinius intends for the SA-103 to be left on at all times, and left in class-A/B mode when idle. If you forget, an internal switch can be set to automatically switch the amp in class-A/B mode after 15, 30, or 60 minutes of no signal, thus saving on heat dissipation and your electric bill. If you’re a control freak, you can turn off this feature entirely, but remember: In class-A mode, the SA-103 sucks almost 500W continuously. I loved being able to leave it on all the time without having to remember to power it down to class-A/B. This let the SA-103 continuously charge its capacitors and to get to its optimal class-A operating temperature—and best sound—much more quickly than from a cold start. Nor did I notice any big increase in my electric bill during the amp’s time at my house. 

Plinius recommends that all serious listening be done in class-A only, and that’s what I did. However, if you’re throwing a summer dinner party and don’t want to heat the house to get some background music, the SA-103 will work nicely in class-A/B. I let it run in, in class-A mode, for about 100 hours before doing any analytic listening. 

Where has this bass been all my life?!
Such was my initial impression of the Plinius SA-103’s sound. I have used the same loudspeakers, a pair of Revel Performa F30s, in the same positions in the same room, for some 10 years now, but never had I heard from them such depth, slam, articulation, and texture in the bass. Nor could my friends, who know my system almost as well as I do, believe the musical foundation the sound now had. Consequently, the Plinius kept me on a steady diet of bass-head treats. 

Pantha du Prince’s Black Noise (CD, Rough Trade RTAADC544) was in constant rotation, and this wonderful recording of rather minimalist electronica was beautifully served by the SA-103. On much of the album, electronic bass notes are used instead of drumbeats to kick out the jams. In other words, the bass notes also provide the music’s rhythmic drive. To correctly reproduce this music, a system must have not only great pitch definition, but impeccable timing and control. The SA-103 locked on to my F30s’ woofers in a way no other amp has, combining roundness and generosity of tone with incredible control and articulation—usually, I’ve been able to get only one or the other of those pairings. For tube amps, my Rogue Audio M-180 monoblocks do a great job in the bass, and give me a feel similar to what the Plinius SA-103 provided, but they just can’t grip the speakers with as much control or dynamics, or play as loud. 

Bass-drum thwacks and orchestral dynamics were ably served by the Plinius’s bass control and drive. The recording by conductor Ants Soots and the Estonian National Male Choir of Veljo Tormis’s Curse Upon Iron (CD, Alba NCD 35) is undoubtedly the most hair-raising performance of the most terrifying choral work ever written. The work is scored for shaman drum (in this case a very large hand drum) and male choir, and its compositional core is the interval of the tritone, so abhorred in conventional harmony. The choir sings, sometimes screams an ancient Estonian text cursing iron, the material of swords and war. Not only did the Plinius get the enormous drum thwacks right, with the correct amount of weight and speed to each stroke, the SA-103 also delivered a rich, detailed, full-bodied rendering of the choir’s voices. The overall effect of this performance and recording of this work is similar that of viewing Picasso’s Guernica—the horrors of war are laid bare in a way that is, at the same time, beautiful and terrible. It’s the sort of music whose emotional impact on me is so strong that I can listen to it only once in a while. When I listened to it this time, I was very glad it was through the Plinius SA-103. 

Men’s voices also sounded lovely singing less raucous fare. To my ears, audio systems have a hard time reproducing male voices. Room effects and speaker crossovers do their best to screw up the sound, and many amps can present either a voice’s body and warmth or its detail, but seldom both. The Plinius did a fine job of conveying the years of joy, pain, and experience in the desiccated voice of the late Johnny Cash as he sang “Give My Love to Rose,” from American IV: The Man Comes Around (CD, American 440 063 339-2), but also offered hints of the former richness of his bass-baritone. The more youthful sound of the late Isaac Hayes singing with Dionne Warwick, in concert, a medley of “By the Time I Get to Phoenix”/”I Say a Little Prayer,” from Ultimate Isaac Hayes: Can You Dig It? (CD, Stax 35CD-88043-2), gave me exactly what a close-miked male voice should sound like, with equal amounts of body and detail. Hayes was a lot more than Chef (the South Park character whose voice he provided) and “Shaft,” and his singing and arranging on this track prove it amazing. 

But the Plinius SA-103 also loved the ladies. Soprano Barbara Bonney singing songs by Hugo Alfvén, accompanied on piano by Antonio Pappano, from her Diamonds in the Snow: Nordic Songs (CD, Decca 289 466 762-2), was rendered with just the right perspective, tonal balance, and liquidity through the SA-103. Hearing Bonney sing “Skogen Sover” was a little slice of heaven.

Through the SA-103, the top octaves were open, sweet, and extended. During my time with the Plinius I bought a mix CD compiled by record producer Peter Kruder, Peter Kruder: Private Collection (CD, G-Stone GSCD036). It’s a grab-bag of some of the weird, wild, wonderful music he’s collected, with tracks by artists such as Tom Waits, Bernard Herrmann, Talk Talk, and my favorite band you’ve never heard of, Stargard. The sound varies a bit from track to track but is generally quite good. The unforced treble extension on Waits’s “Clap Hands” and Rokia Traoré’s “Mariama” was a thing of beauty. This treble, done in such an unhighlighted way, showed the Plinius to have an extremely open and revealing character, as well as a rich midrange and full, articulate bass. My overall impression of the SA-103’s sound was of warm, open, powerful neutrality. 

In terms of soundstaging, the Plinius SA-103 proved to be one of the best solid-state amplifiers I’ve heard. Some amps are good at presenting an illusion of soundstage depth by adding to the signal a character that embiggens (pace Jebediah Springfield) the sound of instruments and places them at a greater sonic distance from the listener. Other amps are surgical in their rendering of space, often giving a hyperdetailed, exciting, yet etched quality to the sound. In this regard, the Plinius SA-103 was an amp Goldilocks would have loved: it was juuuuust right. 

When called on to present an upfront and vivid soundstage, such as that of Jean Knight’s “Mr. Big Stuff,” from Stax: 50th Anniversary Celebration (CD, Stax STX2-30203-2), the Plinius put very little space between me and the performers, and placed the instruments squarely in my room with startling immediacy. However, the SA-103 also ably transported me to the sunken-cathedral acoustics of the enormous spaces in which Gavin Bryars’ The Sinking of the Titanic was recorded (by Christopher Barnett and the Gavin Bryars Ensemble; CD, Philips 446 061-2). In terms of soundstaging, the Plinius gave what it got. 

Nothing Compares 2 U
A number of amps have come through my doors in the past year or so. Against the similarly powered Rogue M-180 monoblocks outfitted with KT90 output tubes, the Plinius did very well, sharing with the Rogues what I would normally call “tube magic.” I love what tubes can do in the midrange, and I expected the solid-state Plinius to leave an empty spot in my heart that pined for more of that tube magic. But the Plinius’s midrange was as fleshy as I like it to be. Though the Rogues did a fantastic job of presenting the illusion of a three-dimensional space, they lacked some of the SA-103’s resolution and clarity. In terms of dynamics, while the Rogues are good, the Plinius was great. In this category, tube amps just can’t compete with a class-A amp putting out up to 50 amps of peak current—the Plinius’s balance and voicing really held together at high volumes, inviting me you to do some crankin’. 

Though the class-A–biased Pass Labs amps I’ve spent time with, the Aleph 3 and XA30.5, have sweet trebles, I’ve also found them slightly closed-in at the top of the audioband, the XA30.5 having a slight emphasis in the low to mid-treble. The Plinius SA-103 matched this sweetness, but offered a more extended bandwidth at both ends of the audioband than did either Pass model. The Plinius was also a higher-resolution design than the Passes, with blacker backgrounds, less noise, and greater texture and delineation throughout the audioband. The SA-103 was also more dynamic and more timbrally neutral than the similarly priced Pass Labs INT-150 ($7150). 

Why Can’t This Be Love?
So—have I fallen in lust with this amp, or is it love? Certainly, there must be other amps out there that might trump the Plinius’s performance in certain areas. The single-ended tube crowd won’t get quite enough of that tube magic to keep them from crossing the SA-103 off their list. And those who crave the hyperdetail of a solid-state Halcro amp might not find what they’re looking for in the Plinius. Those who need absurdly priced audio jewelry will also look elsewhere—the Plinius just isn’t fancy or costly enough. 

But if, like me, you’re looking for a power amplifier that can bring you a great deal of the performance that each of these kinds of amplifiers can muster, the Plinius SA-103 may be for you. The best way I can recommend the SA103 is this: If you’re considering spending a bit less than the Plinius’s price, try instead to splurge on the SA-103. If you’re thinking of spending a great deal more, at least give the Plinius a listen before laying down your dough. 

The Plinius SA-103 offers a natural, neutral tonal balance, just the right amount of musicality, superb bass performance, plenty of current to drive the most piggish speakers, functional and tasteful design. It is (dare I say it) a good value at its price, considering its performance. 

Perhaps, when the next hot amp comes through the door, the SA-103’s spell will have worn off. In a few months, maybe the Plinius and I will have to have “the talk.” I’ll phone it up and tell it, “I’m just not that into you,” and “I’ve met someone else.” Perhaps I’ll even say, “Baby, it’s not you, it’s me.” After all, I am a promiscuous audio reviewer. I love ’em and leave ’em and never look back. But I highly encourage you to at least take a Plinius SA-103 out on a date. It could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.