OPPO BDP-93 Blu Ray and Universal Disc Player

I decided to branch into Blu Ray for certain films. Carrying 50gb of data per disc compared to a standard DVD’s 8.5gb, Blu Ray discs are able to provide significantly more detail for both picture and audio. We won’t see the best of our Hi-Definition TV unless we have a Hi-Def source so I researched players and settled on the Oppo.

I need a player that can handle Blu Ray, DVD, DVDR, CD, CDR, SACD and DVD Audio. Not only that but one which can read discs encoded for all geographical Regions and convert video from PAL to NTSC and vice versa. In short, a universal disc player that can play anything I own whether purchased in the UK or North America.

Oppo is a new American Manufacturer established in 2004 but already making a big name for itself with multi-functional disc players, upper mid-range in price but rivalling high-end competitors for performance. I bought the BDP-93 from an online retailer in Ohio for $630, $100 more than list price for the “region free” modification. Delivery took four days by FedEx. Packaging is the best I have seen; a large box with plenty of padding and the player wrapped in a strong linen bag. A separate box within contains cables, leads, wireless dongle and a chunky remote control with beautiful backlighting. I won’t delve into the technical detail of the BDP-93, suffice to say it has played anything I have thrown at it without fuss. The hefty owner’s manual is available online for the curious, as are detailed reviews.

From a user’s perspective, the Oppo’s upscaling of DVDs is great. My picture has never looked so sharp. Blu Rays are notoriously slow to boot up but this player reaches the menu within thirty seconds. So far I have only sampled a Blu Ray transfer of the thirty-five-year-old “Exorcist” but even that looks superbly defined with detail and illumination even in the dark corners.

As to sound quality, the player is amazing. I already own good players by NAD, Cambridge Audio and Toshiba but this beats them all by some distance. A universal disc player is all well and good but if you need an additional CD player to achieve quality audio then the point is lost. The Oppo gives the best audio experience I have had. Sound is full and crystal clear. I play it through a Yamaha ampilifier/receiver and Harmon Kardon surround sound speakers and the sound is truly detailed and powerful.

A potentially useful feature is the Oppo is wireless Internet ready and I had no trouble connecting it to my home network. Now a full range of online videos are available via the likes of YouTube and Netflix.

As a bonus you can leave an external hard drive plugged into either of the two USB ports and access any audio or video content using on-screen menus on the TV. My entire music collection is ripped to mp3 so unless I am looking for CD quality then I can call up from my armchair anything I fancy listening to. What’s more, the Oppo can read image files enabling you to watch slideshows of your digital photos on the big screen. All in all I’m quite happy with the purchase.

Marco Polo land

This was our pitch at Marco Polo Land. We camped for three nights and enjoyed a mixture of sunshine and showers. I wrote more about it here. And on my photo site there are some of my photos from the weekend.

The Marco Polo was a three masted clipper built in St John, New Brunswick in the 1850s and named after the famed Ventian adventurer. It sailed the seas in a number of guises and indeed setting records before finally floundering on the north shore of Prince Edward Island. In death it gave its name to the the high ground upon which today's campground was eventually built.

Pictures on the other sites show me looking a trifle subdued. I'm afraid the combined stress of taking tots camping and the lousy weather took its toll.

Ian Hunter - Strings Attached

I bought this Concert DVD on its release in 2004 but have only recently acquired a surround sound set up to fully appreciate it.

Most people have heard of seventies glam rock act Mott the Hoople, if only for the single “All the Young Dudes” and long term fans from the 1960s and 1970s have followed lead singer Ian Hunter’s solo career with a mixture of frustration and admiration. This very English (and criminally under-rated) singer songwriter has released more than a dozen studio albums in a somewhat spotty solo career but the highlights are high indeed. Until now there has been scarcely any worthwhile footage of Ian Hunter performing live so the long-awaited DVD, "Strings Attached" was always going to be required viewing.

Universal released the set with only basic monochrome artwork and no liner notes, clearly aiming it at existing fans. Video and sound though are top quality, as of course they should be these days. Seventeen songs that lend themselves to arrangement with strings have made the set list but this is not just a typical Ian Hunter set with accompanying strings. No, all the songs have been rearranged (some fairly heavily) for a seventeen-piece string ensemble called the Trondheim Soloists. This is IH’s show and he rightly takes centre stage, playing acoustic guitar or singing with hand-held mic. Long time guitarist Andy York plays acoustic and occasionally electric, while there are Scandinavian guitar, keys and drums lurking well into the shadows backstage. Songs like Boy, Waterlow, Irene Wilde and Michael Picasso sound stunning and Ships will surely bring a lump even to the hardest throat.

I am uneasy about 23A Swan Hill and Once Bitten Twice Shy though, which have lost their power and bite and Memphis is barely recognisable. However by the time we reach the rousing finale of Saturday Gigs, it has become quite apparent that IH is taking this opportunity to present the songs to us afresh. His voice is simply superb and I really believe I have never heard him singing better. The violinists and cellists look full of respect for him and are clearly enjoying themselves.

The star of the Bonus Features is a fascinating thirty minute interview. A Norwegian interviewer asks the obvious questions but allows IH the opportunity to say as much or as little as he fancies. It doesn't come across as over-rehearsed and offers a rare first-hand insight into the man's thoughts. There is also a six minute film of behind-the-scenes clips where we hear from Joe Elliott, Campbell Devine, son Jesse Hunter and daughter Tracie Hunter (so very like her old man!) Additionally there are complete Mott the Hoople and IH discographies and a short biography from Campbell Devine.

I enjoyed the DVD for several reasons but on a purely personal level I prefer the hard-rocking electric sets he plays live. Who knows perhaps one day we may be treated to a DVD of one of the Astoria gigs I attended.

dog days

It’s hot and humid. I don’t want to run but if I am to enter the Prince Edward Island Marathon in October I need to increase the mileage. My current ten or twelve miles a week is a decent enough base to build from and thankfully my injuries are lighter than last year.

I still suffer with sore ankles despite stretching, icing and resting after longer runs but not as badly as last year. I have a tendency to blisters on the little toe of my left foot but I am keeping them at bay with something I discovered at the Atlantic Superstore, a tubular piece of sticking plaster (that’s Band Aid in North American) lined with a firm clear gel. I slip it over the whole toe and it seems to do the trick. I know it affectionately as my “willy warmer.”

My longer runs take me out past the airport and there’s a house on the route which has four or five boxer dogs always untethered in the front yard. They bark ferociously and stand at the very edge of their territory. As yet they haven’t chased me up the road but as a precaution I slow to a walk as I pass their house. Dog days indeed.

Sunday was very hot but I set off on a ten kilometre run which takes in North River Road and Victoria Park. About halfway I was wilting but I pushed on. My pace slumped on the slightest inclines and I finished in sixty-two minutes, a good couple of minutes outside my norm. I was exhausted and sank into a cool bath.

Today I ran a short two and a half miles at a brisk pace in twenty-seven degrees Celsius. I sweated profusely for forty-five minutes when I got home, leaving puddles wherever I stood.

I had three teeth extracted last week and another three yesterday. More accurately I should call them “retained roots” as they were small remnants of once fine molars, filled and root filled over the years until there was nothing left to repair. I’m taking antibiotics for a gum infection in the wounds. Nonetheless I wanted to run and release some endorphins to ease the pain.

This afternoon I used the Rug Doctor on all our carpets, cleaning a year’s worth of toddler spillages. While some drying took place I folded the laundry and made copies of the BBC natural history documentary "Life" we got from the library on DVD. We’ve been immersed in Ewan McGregor’s “Long Way Round” and still have the extras to watch and we'll watch "Life" next.

I’m listening to Rosemary’s Baby read by Mia Farrow on Audio Book at night. A great story and beautifully written in a simple style.

I should be saving money as we have a few months of belt tightening ahead however I am keen to get into Blu-Ray and have earmarked a player which will play every type of disc and media I own. That is to say Regions 1 & 2 DVDs (both NTSC & PAL pictures), Regions A, B & C Blu-Rays, Super Audio CDs, DVD Audio, mp3 direct from external hard drive for starters. Watch this space.

this is the modern world

In fewer than thirty years we have moved from the floppy disc to the Blu Ray disc and there has been little if any overlap. Nonetheless I thought about comparing the two media in the realm of films. I realise that graphics cards from twenty-five years ago could not support what we now consider to be “high definition” nor did even regular 1990’s processors have the power to deliver anything more than grainy, jerky video. Undaunted by anachronisms...

The storage capacity of a 3.5” floppy disc from the late 1980’s was a heady 1.4MB. It occurred to me that backing up a Hi-Definition feature film that way would require a barely credible 35,714 floppy discs (50GB). So an avid film buff would need approximately nineteen standard sized suitcases to store the discs for one film. He’d also need some manual dexterity because he’d have to feed the discs into a disc drive at the rate of five per second for the duration of a two hour film.

Or he could just use one dual-layer Blu Ray disc.

***

I hear a detachment of twenty-eight British Policemen are to be offered counselling before returning to regular duty after a gruelling seventy day special assignment next year. Gosh, these guys must be about to see some sickening, brutal things, witness some terrible, gruesome events... no, they are to accompany and guard the 2012 Olympic torch on its eight thousand mile celebratory parade around the British Isles.

***

Acknowledging Maisie on her trike, a walker in Victoria Park remarked in all seriousness, “That child needs a helmet!” Bear in mind Maisie was propelling the afore-mentioned vehicle at crawling speed on a wooden boardwalk. Frankly that grizzled old crone of about fifty might have benefited more from a helmet herself, bearing in mind her pace of perambulation must have been approaching 2.5mph.

I’m all for safety where appropriate but I believe the nanny state has gone too far in the molly-coddling stakes. And they have people believing their propaganda, people like the opinionated pedestrian above, a woman of the baby-boomer generation who lived through:
. babies sleeping on their tummies
. cars with no seatbelts or infant seats
. pregnant mothers smoking and drinking
. lead in paint
. no childproof caps on medicines
. and the list goes on and on and on ...

Perhaps we’ll get our toddlers helmets when they are actually threatening their heads.

sound and vision

I consider myself technologically minded but configuring a home theatre set-up has had me scratching my head. The theory is easy, plug the dvd/cd/blu ray player into the receiver; connect the receiver to the TV; wire five speakers and a sub woofer into the receiver. By now you should be enjoying sumptuous surround sound and glorious technicolour...

Well, nearly!

I should mention there are a mind-boggling eighty three inputs/outputs on the back panel of my new receiver, and several methods of connecting various devices each using different cable types. You can even mix and match the connections.

I went with the latest connectors, HDMI (Hi-Def Multimedia Interface). Far fewer plugs and lengths of cabling to wrestle with and supposedly the best carrier of audio/video signals. However, research showed me that SACDs (Super Audio CDs), which carry vastly more audio data than their standard cousins, require six analogue audio connectors to carry discreet 5.1 surround sound signals. No problem, I ordered those and dutifully used them to connect my DVD/SACD player to the new

receiver.

The TV was relatively simple to calibrate and soon displayed a good picture but try as I might I could not get sounds I was happy with through the receiver. Yes the five speakers and the sub woofer were making lots of noise but when listening to a 5.1 surround sound DVD Audio version of the 1973 classic Tubular Bells Viv Stanshall's quintessentially British accent was conpicuous by its absence when I know he should have been listing each instrument by name as it joins the crescendo near the end of "side one." Incredibly there were no f$%*ing Tubular Bells at the point when they should have been clanging loud enough to wake the dead!

Clearly something was wrong. I could get the right sound if I selected the multi-channel input but only a thin, weird sounding version with many of the instruments missing if I selected the HDMI input. What's more the multi-channel input supplied no video image whereas it should have been showing a delightful and slowly rotating tubular bell against a changing sky. After much thinking, ploughing through a maze of on screen menus and studying the one hundred and twenty-two page manual, the penny finally dropped. My Cambridge Audio DVD player is barely three years old but the pace of technological progress has been frantic. Perhaps it can't send surround sound signals through its HDMI output. (Note: I researched this later and found my DVD player uses HDMI version 1.1 and we are already up to version 1.4).

More jiggery pokery with the on screen menus and I was deep within the configuration files. I discovered I could select sound from the multi-channel input and video from the HDMI, a combination which finally solved the problem. Sound and vision are now everything I had hoped for!

I have several SACDs and Music DVDs which, as well as the usual stereo track, carry an additional layer mixed for surround sound. That layer has previously been inaccessible to me but listening now to re-masters of old classics like Dark Side of the Moon, Brothers in Arms and the aforementioned Tubular Bells is a revelation. It really is total immersion in the music. Sounds which were buried in the stereo mix come alive in the 5.1 mix making these old favourites sound fresh and new.

Now that I am beginning to understand the sound set up I have been able to turn my attention to wall-mounting the speakers, hiding the speaker wire in conduit, coiling excess wiring behind the appliances and securing the coils with zip ties. Soon I can think about installing the back to the shelf unit. I now know where all the wires will need to exit and whereabouts there I need to drill slots to carry connectors from one shelf to another. I don’t plan to use the bag of tiny nails which came with the shelf but will probably screw mirror supports in place so that the back can come off with the minimum of fuss.

Who knows, one day we may be able to sit back and enjoy films and music. What a wild and crazy idea!

dreamer

It's low, way too low. A wide-body jet is circling the town, banking hard and describing loud circles. Its starboard wing points verticaly to earth. Easing out of the turn, it levels then banks to port. It's losing altitude with every second and the engines are screaming now. Somehow the pilot has aligned the doomed airplane with the main street through town and he's aiming to crash land. The plane's wingspan is nearly twice the width of the road. Almost immediately the wings are clipped off by buildings and the fuselage collapses onto its belly. There is a screech of tearing metal as the tube of steel careers along the street, flattening all in its path. There is a brief silence then a spectacular blast.

There's really no need to get dressed. It'll take too long. Anyway, if I hurry no one will see me. I'm not sure where I'm going but it's urgent. I scamper along the pavement, my bare feet slapping on the warm concrete. I slow and walk behind a parked car as a group of people pass by on the far side of the road. They don't even see me. There is no cover for the next hundred yards but I sprint on, confident that if I ignore people they won't register me. Naked running could be the next craze. A car approaches and instinctively I drop my hands to protect my modesty. Heads inside the car turn to look at me and I run on. I think they saw me. Up ahead a couple are walking towards me. I can't avoid them and in fact I recognise them. They stop to greet me and don't mention my nakedness. I feel exposed but carry on a conversation as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

The sun is blazing in a bright blue sky. I'm walking along a road in an average town. I begin to flex my legs then jump slightly, leaving the ground for just a split second. It's a nice feeling. I do it again and find I am not as heavy as usual. I jump perhaps six feet in the air then settle gently back on the ground. On my next jump I flap my arms. It seems a ridiculous thing to try but it actually works. I feel myself propelled higher. I flap again and the upward surge is stronger still. Two more quick wing beats and I'm as high as the rooftops. I can see beyond them to the fields and hills in the distance. I skim the roofs and catch a thermal, suddenly climbing fast. I must be five hundred feet above the ground yet I'm not scared. I glide over the town seeing people scurry about like ants. I dive and pick up speed, swooping between buildings then soaring upwards again. A line of pylons marches across the fields ahead, carrying power lines. I have to decide whether to fly under or over the lines. One sharp flap and I'm up and soaring over them. I feel the warm sun on my back and a gentle breeze in my face. I must do this more often.