Musical Fidelity Fx Power Amplifier -

Because of the low-feedback, high-bandwidth design, the FX handles leading-edge transients—the strike of a piano hammer, the snap of a snare drum—with startling realism. There is no smearing. But the real magic is in the micro-dynamics. At low volume, late at night, the FX retrieves the subtle decay of a cymbal or the breath of a saxophonist with a delicacy that 200-watt behemoths often crush under their own authority.

Musical Fidelity employed a fetishistically simple dual-mono design. Two toroidal transformers (one for each channel) sit at the front, isolated from a remarkably small number of gain stages. There are no tone controls, no headphone jacks, no "processor loops." This is a machine with a single purpose: to amplify the input signal without adding or subtracting anything but amplitude. musical fidelity fx power amplifier

Then came the Musical Fidelity FX. At first glance, it seemed to confirm every boring stereotype. It was a black box, bereft of the signature heat sinks that made rival amplifiers look like industrial art. But to dismiss the FX as just another "mule" is to miss one of the most radical, counter-intuitive, and musically compelling statements in solid-state design. The FX was born in an era of excess. The late 1980s and 1990s were dominated by the "Wattage Wars"—amplifiers boasting 200, 300, even 500 watts per channel, ostensibly to control difficult speakers. Musical Fidelity, under the mercurial leadership of Antony Michaelson, committed heresy. The FX produced a mere 50 watts per channel into 8 ohms. Because of the low-feedback, high-bandwidth design, the FX