Zeppelin crashes on student’s desk, makes loud noise

The iPod causes a touch of a dilemma. It was designed as a portable player, yet among audiophiles and the general public it has found a place as the primary music player in the home as well. Now, if you’re fortunate enough to own a dedicated rig at home, then bravo, all you need is a dock and you’re good to go. But what if, let’s say, you’re a college student looking to pump high-quality, big sound out of your little iPod but you don’t have the cash (thank you Rose-Hulman tuition) to pay thousands on a pre-amp, amp, receiver, and speakers? A number of manufacturers have rushed in with compact stereos dedicated to the iPod which range in price (and quality) from sub $50 to over $500. Many are complete crap - but some are gems. This week, I am reviewing one of those gems - a true treasure in the prolific sea of “Made for iPod” goodies that have been unleashed onto the market: The Bowers & Wilkins Zeppelin.

The quirky stereo gets its name from its unique shape - its resemblance to one of the Third Reich’s airships is uncanny. Some critics have called it stylish. I’m not sure that I would go that far. I have trouble thinking of any interior design into which this particular enclosure would fit. It certainly is elegant, gorgeous in its simplicity and design based purely on purpose (B&W claims its shape is for perfect acoustics), but golly is it weird.

The system features a prominently mounted iPod dock and, other than that, only three other buttons on the front of the unit - one for power, one for volume up, and one for volume down. On the back are ports for composite video, S-video, an auxiliary input, a USB port, power (of course), and two speaker ports to vent the woofers. The Zeppelin actually consists of five independent voice coils: a centrally mounted 5 inch subwoofer, two 3.5 inch midrange woofers, and two tweeters. The stereo also ships with a remote with on/off, forward/reverse, play/pause, volume up/down, and source selection buttons.

I’m going to be brutally honest: at first listen this not-so-little all-in-one (2 feet long and a porky 16 pounds) is damn impressive (and it’d better be - I’ll let you check out the price if you’re really that interested). iPod speakers as a whole suffer from the “speaker behind a pane of glass” sound that is so common among low-end-yet-overpriced audio equipment. These don’t. One of the first songs I ever played through the Zeppelin was “Autobots” from this summer’s blockbuster “Transformers” (so sue me, I’m a sap for soundtracks). When the horn solo really kicked into gear I’m pretty sure my eyebrows shot off my head and stayed up there like some sort of weird cartoon. What came out of this little unit was full, rich sound. Not tinny, not lacking color, a solid “wall of sound” that musicians are always striving to produce.

I continued to put the system through its paces with a variety of pieces ranging from Bill Watrous’s trombone to Aerosmith’s axe. I first tested the system with some jazz selections (Dave Grusin’s “An Actor’s Life,” Earl Klugh’s “The Traveler,” Charged Particles “In Peace,” and Bill Watrous’s “Day In, Day Out”). Watrous is especially notorious for muddying-up what you thought were perfectly good speakers, and with these he sounds detailed, articulate and live. Even “Day In, Day Out’s” oft-lost bass solo is clear.

Then, some classic rock and roll (Aerosmith’s “Dude looks like a lady,” “Crazy,” and “Angel,” Boston’s “Foreplay/Long Time,” and, because it was near Christmas and all, Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s “First Snow”) to which the B&W responded with articulated fidelity, rockin’ bass, riffin’ guitars, and painfully loud volume (no joke).

Last, some classical, because no great speaker system is truly great until it can faithfully reproduce the works of the masters. So, who better than Gabrieli, the composer of so many brass concerti? And here, the system faltered just a bit. Not in tone quality, volume, detail, or clarity, but in separation. Gabrieli was one of the first major composers to master an antiphonal sound, that is, he pioneered stereo sound using the design of the cathedrals in which his works were performed. Because the Zeppelin is a single unit, its stereo separation is lacking. Imagine sitting in the church listening to the brass choirs play - with separable stereo speakers, you’re sitting directly between the two choirs; with the Zeppelin, you’re sitting at the back of the church.

I’ve gushed about the Zeppelin for as long as you’ve cared to read (assuming you’ve made it this far) - but don’t think that it’s a perfect unit or the grail of His Holy Hi-Fi. No sir. My first beef is with usability. The Zeppelin itself has a built in iPod dock that allows for easy use and is very ergonomic, but, it also ships with a remote. Unfortunately, this remote lacks the crucial “menu” button to return the iPod to a previous menu. Thus, if you want to change albums, you need to get up, go over to the iPod, and change the album. This has already gotten old. Also, turning on and off the Zeppelin is an interesting experience. Not that it makes any funny sounds, just that the iPod and the Zeppelin seem to, at least every other cycle, have a miscommunication. It’s not terrible - the iPod doesn’t freeze and the Zeppelin doesn’t squawk in agony - it’s just weird. And, of course, it is still an iPod stereo - not a dedicated, componentized, hi-fi rig. Just keep that in mind.

The Bowers & Wilkins Zeppelin is the flagship “Made for iPod” stereo on the market today. It has the power to fill an entire New Res apartment with ease and the finesse to produce quality sound at all volume levels. And good grief, with its pedigree and price tag, it should.