After positioning the eight-outlet, 43-pound Everest tower behind my equipment rack and re-dressing multiple power cords and interconnects, Jason and I played a Tidal stream of Perfume Genius’s stellar Set My Life on Fire Immediately and were startled by the propulsive rhythms of the Blake Mills-produced track “On the Floor.” We were engulfed by a swirling array of instruments, each of their notes clearly defined and hitting our eardrums at dizzyingly fast contrapuntal intervals. Our collective reaction to this barrage of tones and textures was “Wow.” I realize that’s not a scientific observation, but it’s the best our lizard brains could manage at the time. It was reminiscent of a scene from Ford v Ferrari, when Carroll Shelby takes Henry Ford II on a no-holds-barred test drive of the newly built GT40 Mk II. By the time Shelby hits the breaks, Ford has been reduced to incoherent laughing and sobbing, and then he gasps, “I had no idea.”

Okay, so no tears were shed during our audition, but the scene does capture our collective surprise when we heard the expansive headroom and growling low-end torque the Everest 8000 brought to my system. During our two-hour session, Jason continued to throw around hopelessly imprecise phrases like “delicious” and “This is crazy” when the punch of Paul McCartney’s nimble bass lines on a 1976 Los Angeles pressing of Wings’ At The Speed of Sound [SW-11525] got his head bobbing. Or his repeated instruction to “Turn that sucker up” during a Tidal MQA stream of “Rehab” from Amy Winehouse’s decidedly non-audiophile Back to Black. Clearly, the Everest technology was affecting Jason’s limbic system, and he left considerably less sarcastic than when he’d arrived. Walking out the door, he shook his said and said, “That was amazing.”

According to those who share my listening space, the weakest link in the system I’ve assembled, aside from the room itself, is the digital playback. Even though my Audio Research DAC9 DAC and AURALiC Aries LE streamer work well together, digital fatigue eventually takes its toll with less-than-perfect recordings, forcing me to turn the volume down, even when the music itself inspires the opposite. I’d come to accept this fatigue as a part of digital sound -- until I installed the Everest. Immediately, the glare, grain and artificiality I often hear were replaced with a more fluid, natural presentation. In a recent interview, I asked Caelin Gabriel whether this sonic effect is a direct result of Everest 8000’s more than 60dBs of noise reduction, component-to-component isolation or better timing due to improved DTCD performance. His response was characteristically pointed and detailed: “There’s no magic bullet in the Everest. It’s everything working together. If we failed to consider every aspect of current delivery and noise, even one part missing could destroy the whole. Audiophiles tend to look at components as additive. ‘If I take this one thing and add it so my system, it will have this golden glow effect and all of a sudden it fixes all the ills of my system.’ The problem is that systems don’t work that way.”

Instead, Gabriel’s approach to improving music reproduction is often subtractive. First, he identifies what aspect of electrical distribution is creating noise or reducing DTCD and then he works to reduce the effect of that offending element. This subtractive strategy manifested itself in my digital system by eliminating many of the processed and homogenized qualities that used to get on my nerves after marathon listening sessions. Now my digital components had moved a few steps closer to the relaxed, organically integrated sound of my analog playback. Hearing what the Everest 8000 can do has strengthened my belief that both efficient power delivery and noise reduction are essential if you want digital files to sound like real music and not a synthetic substitute.

Perhaps of even greater utility for me, the Everest 8000 proved to be a supreme reviewer’s tool. In a highly resolving system, it laid qualitative differences between various components bare. For example, I knew that my AURALiC streamer did not fully compete with the sonic performance of my PS Audio PerfectWave Transport. With the Everest 8000 handling power distribution, I’m now able to hear how much meatier and more natural instruments sound on my CDs when compared to numerous files played back through the streamer. The Aries is a respectable digital device, but it’s no match for the sense of weight and tonal accuracy I hear when physical media are played back through the sturdier and more expensive PerfectWave. The Everest 8000 demonstrated that there’s even more musical fun to be squeezed from my collection of shiny discs than I’d realized.

Before describing the impact of Everest’s technology on the playback of specific recordings, it’s worth mentioning that users will be faced with choosing a suitable power cord for the unit’s all-important connection to the electrical grid. Using a cheap, entry-level cord would be tantamount to slapping a set of stock tires on a Bugatti Chiron -- they’ll get you out of the driveway, but you’ll never discover what zero to 60 in 2.5 seconds feels like. The Everest 8000 arrived with Shunyata’s recommended Sigma XC power cord, and it delivered whiplash-inducing transients and textured mid-to-low bass frequencies that made even a two-year-old Sigma NR sound a bit rolled off and sluggish by comparison. Gabriel told me that the Sigma XC’s performance, which I identify as an acute balance of speed and tonal accuracy, is due to a unique VTX-Ag 6-gauge geometry, comprising a pure-silver conductor surrounded by a concentric OFE copper conductor. The Sigma XC’s ability to draw massive current on demand introduced room-pressurizing low frequencies. Additionally, the Sigma XC’s carbon-fiber barrels at both ends of the cable are said to significantly reduce micro-vibrations, which Gabriel says partly explains the better timing and holographic imaging I heard when I added the XC to my system.

After I was finished with the lion’s share of critical listening for this review, Shunyata sent me the company’s heavier, but surprisingly flexible 4-gauge Omega XC power cord. At $7000, the Omega XC provides accurate tonality identical to that of the Sigma XC, but, as Nigel Tufnel of Spinal Tap would say, “These go to eleven.” Or to use an automotive analogy, the Omega is a turbo charger for those who want the extra 20 to 25 percent thrust that only a bruising 4-gauge cable can provide. When asked why that extra gauge matters, Gabriel explained that much like his QR/BBs act as a charge reservoir, power cords also store energy. “The cross-sectional circumference of the wire acts as a reserve for the charge. It’s a principle called self-capacitance. An obvious example of this current storage principle can be witnessed when power from a remote generator is cut off. Wires that are connected far from that generator are still capable of generating wicked amounts of voltage for a considerable time after no power has been fed to them.” Did the Omega XC’s enhanced charge capacity result in the significant boost in dynamics I heard? Makes sense to me.

No matter how many technological marvels an audio product contains, they're all for nothing if there’s not a considerable sonic payoff. In the case of the Everest 8000, the cumulative impact of Gabriel’s innovations is dramatic. Whenever I want to test an audio component’s ability to convey complex music realistically, I turn to Norman Granz’s 1984 production of Count Basie & His Orchestra’s 88 Basie Street [Pablo 23110-901]. Engineered by Allen Sides at Hollywood’s legendary Oceanway Studios, this album is one of the very best recordings of a large jazz ensemble I’ve heard. The wide range of instruments, from tenor, baritone and alto saxes to flugelhorns, piano, and guitar, shows off that there isn’t a timbral or tonal nuance the Everest 8000 fails to influence -- and even more believably than its Denali predecessor. When I think back to the big-band concerts I’ve attended, I’m struck by how the Everest 8000 makes this record resemble a live performance. I now realize how the ultra-tight synchronization and effortless dexterity of this ensemble contributed to Basie’s legendary, signature swing. The Everest 8000 delivered the bubbling energy and thrilling dynamics of this classic session with a vividness and realism I’d never experienced before.

The Everest 8000 also unearthed surprises on smaller group recordings. Alison Krauss and Union Station’s Lonely Runs Both Ways CD [Rounder 11661 0525-2] is a well-known acoustic tour de force whose solos and vocal inflections are utterly baked into my subconscious after repeatedly using it as a reference recording. So, it’s no exaggeration to say that I was dumbfounded when the Everest revealed how much Krauss’s fiddle work is an essential thread in so many of the instrumental tapestries her band weaves. How had I missed that important element over the many, many years I’ve listened to this album? Somehow the Everest 8000 did not spotlight or enhance this element of the recording. Instead, it unlocked musical micro-details that had been previously trapped, giving them room to breathe and naturally appear in the aural space. I could now appreciate the soaring tone of Krauss’s bow work on cuts like “Wouldn’t Be So Bad” as it hovers above Jerry Douglas’s shimmering Dobro lines and circles in and out of the sparkling syncopation of Dan Tyminksi’s guitar fills. It’s a rich sonic landscape and one I never expected to hear from a humble compact disc.

For those who enjoy taking in the full measure of a recording, the Everest 8000 helps provide a clear view. The streaming version of George Jones’ wonderful Tear Your Playhouse Down [Bandit Records 79842-2] sent me to find the album’s liner notes, where I discovered that it is a compilation of duets that had been recorded at a variety of venues under the direction of several different recording engineers. The Everest 8000 helped reveal studio changes, microphone placements, and the alternating presence and absence of reverb effects on several of the cuts. For a music nerd like me, such revelations served as aural Easter eggs that popped up on just about every recording I reached for when the Everest was in use, giving credence to its noise-elimination -- and thus signal-enhancing -- capabilities.

When I reviewed Shunyata’s first Denali back in 2016, one of the recordings I highlighted was Jackson Browne’s 1993 CD I'm Alive [Elektra 9 61524-2]. Four years later, with the Everest in place, Browne’s voice was imbued with the fulsome presence I hear when listening to the very best vinyl pressings of his early work. The vocalist, which sounds like a baritone or bass, in the background chorus on track 2, "My Problem is You," came through with a rough-hewn resonance that simply wasn’t present during playback with the Denali 6000T. Kick drums exploded from my Wilson speakers with more authority because they possessed all of that instrument’s characteristics: skin, mallet and the movement of air. Nowhere was this timbral accuracy more apparent than on “Too Many Angels.” Drummer Jim Keltner, bassist Jim “Hutch” Hutchison and percussionist Lenny Castro create a stunning intro that I was now able to more fully appreciate as a combination of instruments working in concert to create a sonic thunderhead that set the song’s mournful mood. That was in stark contrast to the distant rumble I’d previously perceived. This cut is also adorned with an array of backup singers who trade solo passages. With the Everest 8000 handling power distribution, I was struck by each singer’s phrasing, his or her movements around the microphone, and I wondered whether the producers may have used doubling effects to make those six background singers sound like a much larger choral group. I could also hear precisely where Jennifer Warnes' distinctive voice is spot lit toward the end of the cut. Individually, none of these elements may be critically important. Taken collectively, they were evidence of a significant elevation of my system’s resolving powers and resulted in a substantial increase in the already considerable joy I experience while listening to music.

The Everest 8000’s impact on the sound of my audio system reminds me of the kick I get out of listening to well-executed remasters -- analog or digital. It provides the clearest view into recordings I’ve been able to attain. Because the Everest 8000 banishes so much extraneous, distracting noise from playback, I find myself appreciating changes in the sonic character of vocals from track to track on a single album or being in awe of the height and depth of some recording venues as well as the warmth and intimacy of another studio. My brain is not fighting to process the audible noise pollution from the electrical grid or the noise generated by my components. The Wilson Sasha 2’s in my system still sound like the balanced, neutral speakers they are, but the Everest 8000 has enabled my front-end components to feed them more of the bass energy, instrumental bloom, timbral fidelity and lifelike transients that were always present on even modest recordings.

he only thing left to address here is the Everest 8000's price. In a world of five-figure electronics and six-figure speakers, one could argue that $8000 is relatively fair value for a product that affects every component plugged into it. But who in his right mind takes financial advice from an equipment reviewer? All I can do is share the calculations that are going on in my head after hearing the Everest 8000 in my system. For less than a tenth the price of my current audio system, Shunyata Research’s Everest 8000 has dramatically improved every aspect of music reproduction. Many of my records now sound as though they’ve been remastered, even some mediocre ones. I can listen to CDs for far longer, luxuriating in that medium’s linearity without much of the listening fatigue commonly associated with digital playback. Streaming services now sound disarmingly natural and are more addictive than ever before. My speakers are conveying musical complexity with an effortlessness and that I’ve previously only noticed when I’ve heard them driven with far more expensive amplification. The Everest 8000 is a no-holds-barred reference component that delivers a clear view of the audiophile promised land -- stunning transparency, lifelike dynamics and the sort of nuance and detail that can turn merely listening to a musical performance into an emotional experience. After hearing what the Everest 8000 can do, I find it difficult to imagine settling for music playback without it.