The hundred-foot journey. It's the title of a 2014 romantic comedy by acclaimed Swedish director Lasse Hallström based on a Steven Knight script adapted from the eponymous Richard Morais novel. In it a widowed patriarch expatriates his many children from India to Europe to rebuild their restaurant life which was burnt to the ground. The run-down property they soon fix up sits right across a fancy Michelin-star restaurant outside a small village in the French country side. It's a sure-fire recipe for a clash of cultures. It's a colorful gastro mash of Indian spice and classic formal French cuisine. It's a miniature walk across a narrow street separating two establishments. But it's quite the journey for its stubborn protagonists. Those are led by Helen Mirren as the imperial Madame Mallory, Om Puri as the indefatigable Indian elder and Manish Dayal as his son. The latter soon finds himself torn between the two adults at loggerheads. Then there's Madame's alluring sou chef. She nurses her own ambitions to become a celebrated chef. Yet this kitchen can only have one.
Comparing these two speaker cables was a much narrower divide. That made for a far shorter journey. There was no culture clash, just a bit of dry spice versus buttery sauce. There was no professional jealousy, no do-or-die competition for a single spot.
Take a rowdier hotter track like Hüsnü Senlendirici's snorting chalgra makeover of the Bulgarian "Milionerche" song by Toni Storaro. Play it back at levels commensurate with a walking street party. With the Allnic, the production's propensity for exuberant glare and angular hardness came out more. That sprinkled some hot chili into the dish. The Vermöuth lathered on more butter. That mellowed the gloss whose sheen could occasionally spark like bright refracting light.
Nothing much else changed. Both cables shared the same robustness of tone, dynamics and scale. It's only on textural gloss and top-end energy where they begged to differ. The louder I played back inherently spicy fare, the more I fancied the Vermöuth which avoided the eventual bite/burn. At very subdued levels meanwhile, the silver cable's extra incisiveness enhanced subjective resolution and separation. That turned a small potential concern into a bigger asset.
As such I'd call out both cables as belonging to the same sonic aesthetic. It's about a big bold meaty sound which, by just a bit, probably prioritizes the macro over the micro. Given far greater overlap than divergence plus matching standards of machined metal splitters not cheap heat shrink, the one item that rolled off the table once I'd factored all other aspects and found them to balance out neatly was… coin.
Clink. Clunk. Katchinnnng.
On expense, the Vermöuth Reference cable was flatly lower. That made its value steeper. It's as basic a conclusion as it has evergreen relevance. While this fat heavy white cable with its fine fishnet threading is a clear reference effort, it manages to sell for less than current standards. And yes, this review mixed up its cuisines and movies something fierce. But no, there was nothing whatsoever mixed up about the new Vermöuth flagship speaker cable. Most people should find it to be a real winner and relative value. That makes it a double win.
For more on it and its USB mate downstairs, log onto the Vermöuth Studio Monitor review.