: : Loricraft Review by Art Dudley : : From Listener Magazine : :

Loricraft PRC3 Record Cleaning Machine

Hang the deejay.

Review by Art Dudley

Hang the next audiophile who lets the words I'm into this for the music dribble from his mouth: If he feels compelled to say them, they probably aren't true.

Audiophiles can and sometimes do love music. But as the name suggests, we also love audio: We love our toys. Some of us love our silvery cables and some of us love our old-fashioned tubes. Some guys even have a special love for enormous power amps and multi-tower speaker systems: audio Corvettes that can be counted on to attract the attention of teenaged boys if nothing else.

I'm an audiophile, too, and my favorite toys have always been tonearms and record cleaning devices (I know: sad). Now here comes a product that combines both, and, unsurprisingly, I have fallen for it.

The idea behind the Loricraft PRC isn't really new-and Terry O'Sullivan, who owns and operates Garrard/Loricraft, acknowledges this and gives full credit to his forebears. In particular, the late Percy Wilson described a machine like the PRC3 in Gramophone Magazine some time ago. And the earliest commercial product of this sort appeared way back in the 1970s, that decade when men began spending as much on their hairdos as women and when scientists first discovered the usefulness of atomic power in reanimating the dead. (I admit that the not-so-classic film Frankenstein 1970 continues to influence my thinking to a disproportionate degree! The latter was the Keith Monks RCM, made by the same Keith Monks who once made a tonearm that used troughs of mercury for electrical continuity, because even delicate wires impeded the arm's movement too much. How can you not love something like that?

To most of us, especially here in America, the general concept of record cleaning machines is a familiar one, having been popularized by VPI and ultimately picked up by a handful of other companies. It seems straightforward enough: Get a record wet with some or another cleaning fluid; scrub it gently but well; and just as gently vacuum off every trace of fluid and solubilized dirt. But of course everyone has their different ways of doing things, especially that last part-and that's where the Loricraft's tonearm comes in.

Pretend I've already explained how your record got so wet, and now the only thing you care about is drying it. If the Loricraft were like other such products, it would suck up all the liquid through a radial slot built into a hard plastic tube of some sort, usually lined with velvet in the interest of preventing scratches, and usually applied to the wet record from above. But the Loricraft's internal vacuum pump works through a tonearm-like wand: It appears to trace the spiral groove (remember, that's singular: only one per side, please), but in fact it's pushed gently and slowly along by its own geared-down motor. A clever magnetic clutch releases the arm from this mechanism when the time comes to return it to its perch.

From its pivot forward the arm comprises three brass tubes, brazed together one atop the other: a thin one, then a thick one, and then another thin one. The thick brass tube in the middle is the structural part. The thin tube on the top connects to the vacuum pump at its pivot end, while its front end is capped with a smooth nylon dome, just slightly larger than a pencil eraser. This has a single small hole, pointed downward to the record's surface. The thin tube on the bottom is a conduit for a length of white thread, which is fed by a spool mounted on the side of the pivot. The thread enters the pivot end of the tube; travels forward to that nylon tip; passes through the hole; and then travels up and back through the vacuum tube.

What does the thread do? In commenting on the first Keith Monks machine, which incorporates the same kind of vacuum arm, some reviewers suggested that the thread is intended to delve deeply into the groove, scrubbing and wicking away things you don't want there while the vacuum does its sucking. This, however, is a fairy tale: At its widest point, a modern LP groove is seldom bigger across than .002 inches. Yet the average thread, according to the perky yet befuddled Coates & Clark representative who took my call, has a diameter of .024 inches, which is twelve times bigger: So much for the delving theory. The truth, as it turns out, is that the thread is both a cushion and a spacer between the vacuum pick-up and the record's surface: The vacuum effect requires that a certain amount of air be allowed in, without which the fluid can't be taken in, either.

Still, there's no question that the thread absorbs and helps carry away some of the gunk, which is why it must be continually renewed from its spool. In a process that will be familiar to fellow suburbanite Weed-Whacker owners, the user must occasionally pause to coax a little more thread into the works from its spool, and the spool will eventually need replacing. Incidentally, I know the thread picks up some dirt because after it passes through the arm it collects in a clear glass jar installed inline between the arm and the vacuum pump: This is the final resting place of all that spent fluid and cruddy thread. Yuck.

Alright, now that you know how the arm works, let's go back and step through the whole cleaning process. You place a dirty record on the Loricraft's platter and switch on the motor: It spins rather faster than you might expect.You squirt the cleaning fluid of your choice onto the spinning record, noting in the process that the centrifugal force created by the speedy platter helps the fluid move toward the outside of the record, rather than dribbling toward and spoiling the label. Now you take the supplied brush in hand and apply its soft nylon bristles to the wet, spinning disc, thus loosening the accumulated crapioca. When you're satisfied that's done, put down the brush, switch on the vacuum pump, lift up the arm, and set its tip on the leadout groove area-but on the far side of the record spindle. Now switch on the arm motor. This is very slow-approximately 1/18 rpm-and so it takes about 60 seconds for the arm to travel all the way out to the lead-in groove. (Again, if the thread were truly riding in the groove, this would take a great deal more time than that.) By the time the arm has finished its trip, all the fluid has vanished-poof! Gone.

If you use a whole lot of fluid - I hesitate to say "too much," because I think you run a greater risk of scratching a record if you use too little-then some of it will inevitably collect on the very edge of the disc, where the vacuum arm and its tiny downward-pointing hole can't possibly get it. This is no big deal, and I always keep a tissue nearby to sop up these last traces of wetness while the record is still spinning. As a parent, I always keep a tissue nearby anyway.

Loricraft does not supply fluid with the PRC3, but they do supply a squirt bottle which you can use to dispense the commercial or homebrew solution of your choice. Do I want to open that whole can of worms? Sir, I do not. I remain fond of Record Research Lab's Vinyl Wash, which is benign and affordable (visit www.musicalsurroundings.com). and I have also mixed some of my own alcohol/ distilled water solution per Loricraft's instructions, which I use from time to time. These days I also use Buggtussel's Vinyl-Zyme Gold prior to the Vinyl Wash (www.buggtussel.com), which its makers say is good for killing the fungi and bacteria that live in the grooves of older records in particular. I have no way of testing that claim, but I do buy lots of used albums, and just like our family physician, Vinyl-Zyme Gold has not done any harm, and only seems to help.

You can also use whatever brush you like with the PRC3. The one Loricraft supplies is perfectly fine: If anything, it's a little softer than the one that came with my VPI. I have also pressed into service my beloved Disc Doctor record brush (www.discdoc.com). which is super-super soft, and which brings with it the added benefit that, whenever you want to, you can install a new pad and simply throw out the old one-poof! Gone.

The PRC3's arm is very much like a normal tonearm: It has captured bearings of the usual sort that allow freedom of movement in the horizontal and vertical planes, and it is the user's job to level it and set its adjustable counterweight for an appropriate downforce (say, two grams). Assuming you have some kind of tracking force gauge on hand this is easy to do. While I was setting up mine I decided to test it for bearing friction, and as it turns out, the Loricraft arm has slightly better bearings than the Syrinx PU3 I used to own-seriously!

One of the nicest things about the Loricraft PRC3 is that it's so much quieter than other record cleaning machines of my experience. Even with the platter motor, the tonearm motor, and the vacuum motor all going full blast, this thing is no noisier than, say, a microwave oven. I have performed a little experiment on my wife without her knowing it, and while you needn't hear all the details, let it suffice to say that when I'm cleaning a record on the Loricraft I can still hear her perfectly well, regardless of what she is saying. That's remarkable!

The PRC3 needs improvement in three areas that I can think of. First, because products intended as cleaning tools are more effective if they themselves are not dirty, it needs a dustcover of some sort: Even one of those shower-cap things like you see on computer printers would be fine, and would go a long way toward keeping the record platter free of dust**. Second, it needs an arm rest of some sort: As it is, when not in use, the arm rests with its tipand thread-flat down against its plinth. Heck, that ain't good. And, third, it really ought to have adjustable feet, so the user can level it easily: If it's significantly out of whack in that regard, the vacuum arm doesn't work optimally.

Terry's English car

Terry O'Sullivan driving to work.

Alright, so here comes the part you're all waiting for: What does the Loricraft do for the sound of my records?

A few weeks ago I received a UK mono Sgt. Pepper's that I'd "won" on eBay. The seller had graded it very good, but when I dropped the needle in the groove I was angry and disappointed: It was noisier than a trailer park in Texas on the Fourth of July. It was so noisy I wouldn't have considered it any better than fair-plus. Then I cleaned it on the Loricraft, and the album was literally transformed: Most of the noise was dirt, because most of the noise was now gone-and my UK mono Sgt. Pepper's turned out to be excellent-minus: a much better than average value given the amount I paid. I decided not to complain after all.

I told Jannie, and she wanted to try it, too. So I showed her how the Loricraft works-it was still set up on the kitchen counter at this point-and advised her to grab an old record from her college days, listen to it, clean it, and listen again. She did. And she very excitedly told me how the Loricraft quieted the surface noise and made things like vocals and horns stand out more prominently on her favorite Robert Palmer album. (God bless my wife: She likes Hugh Grant, too.)

Does proper use of the Loricraft increase image width? Does it increase stage depth? Does it allow you to identify a choral singer's placement on the stage with land surveyor's accuracy? Does it let you hear what direction the subway trains are going? Does it make caramel colorations sound less like cheap, store-brand ice cream and more like Hiiagen-Dazs?

I don't know. Do you want it to? If you do, then I'm sure it does. Otherwise, I can tell you from experience that it makes dirty records sound less noisy, and after using the Loricraft for a month I have to tell you that I'm surprised how much of the noise on my older records was dirt, and how effective it is at removing it-poof! Gone.

Does the Loricraft do a better job than the time-tested VPI HW-16.5? It certainly goes about that job in a different way, but given that two of the three most important variables in record cleaning remain the user's choice with either machine-and those are of course the choice of fluid and the choice of brush-it's unrealistic to expect the new/old machine to surpass the not so new/not so old one by anything like a wild margin.

As to the third variable - effectiveness of vacuum fluid removal - I'm not so sure. In theory, one might reasonably believe the Loricraft approach is better at removing fluid and solubilized dirt, and one look at the dirty thread seems to bear this out. *

At the same time there is every reason to expect that multiple wash/dry cycles with one machine will overcome whatever relative shortcomings exist in the other: Clean is clean is clean. Heck, it would be an easier choice if either VPI's Harry Weisfeld or Loricraft's Terry O'Sullivan were jerks, but they're not: Both are kind, sincere, goodhumored men who are fun to talk to, who love old records, and who put more of themselves into their products than the average manufacturer.

At $485, the VPI remains a superb buy: It's a fme thing to have, and is almost certainly within the grasp of anyone who already has serious money invested in his or her record collection. At $1795, the Loricraft is geared (sorry) more toward clubs, stores, or well-to-do enthusiasts who want the absolute best and absolute quietest record cleaning machine they can buy. As a bonus, it's so much fun to use-and to watch!-that it makes record maintenance a bit less drudgy. Very enthusiastically recommended.

'The Loricraft has one other advantage: Given the design of its vacuum pickup, it's much more suited to cleaning sub-12 inch records than the VPI.

A short bedtime story . . .

Amanda and the Record Cleaner

This article was from the July/August 2002 issue of The Listener Hi-Fi and Music Review magazine. Unfortunately this unique magazine is no longer published.

** Update: Since this article was written a FREE nylon dust cover is provided with the machine, and a sample of SMART Regular microgroove cleaning solutions is included.

One day Amanda came to work late. "You are late," said The Big Boss. "Now I have to punish you." The Big Boss took Amanda downstairs to the hi-fi room. "I will make you clean some records for me," said The Big Boss. "Please," cried Amanda: "Anything but that: I hate to clean records." "Do not cry," said The Big Boss. "Cleaning records with this machine is fun. I will show you how to do it. "Now, you do it." The Big Boss gave Amanda a dirty record and told her to put it on the machine's platter. She did.
	Next, The Big Boss told Amanda to turn on the platter motor, and to squirt cleaning solution onto the record with one hand. He told her to hold the cleaning brush in her other hand and to gently apply its bristles to the record's surface. "Keep adding fluid and spreading it with the brush until the whole grooved area is solidly wet," he said. "But once that's done, don't add more fluid. Don't squirt so much fluid that it drips all over the place." "What do I do next?" Amanda asked The Big Boss. He told her to put down the fluid and the brush. "Pick up the part of the machine that looks like a tonearm, and lower it gently to the lead-out area of the record-but on the far side of the spindle." She did.
"Now turn on these other two switches," The Big Boss said, pointing to the switches for the vacuum pump and the tonearm motor. Amanda did as she was told: She turned on the switches. Amanda and The Big Boss watched as the tonearm sucked up all the fluid. "Where does it go?" Amanda asked The Big Boss. He pointed to the jar filled with several weeks' worth of spent fluid and dirty thread. "Eww, yuck," Amanda said. The Big Boss returned the tonearm to its resting place and turned off all the switches. He picked up the record and showed Amanda how clean it looked. "You did a good job," he told her. "This record is very clean. But you are still fired."
	The End