Tim De Paravicini – A life very well lived.

In a world where some would say political correctness has gone too far, finding those who speak their mind is getting tough.

‘Characters’ as they can be sometimes described, are becoming thinner on the ground by the day. Unfortunately, we have lost another of those who say it as they see it. Tim was a great man who I would not only describe as a ‘character’ but also a gentleman of incredible general knowledge and intellect. He was a man learned not just in his area of expertise but in many other realms. He had his quirks, which I enjoyed, particularly when the dull corporate types seem to be taking over. It wasn’t just me who enjoyed his ‘character’, either.

When Tim De Paravicini and his company EAR Yoshino displayed at the Munich High End Show the room would be bulging with visitors from the start to the finish.

The EAR display would always be one of the most popular at the show, on many a ‘must see’, ‘must hear’ list. People just came in and hung, out soaking up the warm, easy-to-listen-to, natural sound. If they were lucky, they might also receive a snippet of sage audio advice from the Baron.

It was really almost impossible to speak to the man at Munich. I managed it briefly once for a few minutes, just long enough to confirm a visit previously arranged, to his and Oliva’s factory the following week. He seemed enthusiastic at the prospect and threw on his best twangy ‘Orstraylyan’ accent for a few words as Oliva dragged him away to the waiting throng back at the room.

I visited the room again later in the day hoping that it wouldn’t be quite so full. Alas, there were probably 50 people crammed in there, all sweating a little more than was perhaps polite. Tim sipped occasionally from a beer secreted in his jacket pocket whilst answering endless questions from the hoards. They seemingly looked up to him as some kind of audio messiah. I had seen this scene on visits in previous years, but this year the following appeared to be growing.

He wasn’t prone to changing his position on subjects close to his heart.

He had strong opinions on all sorts of things related to his main interests of cars, planes and of course audio. The range of models available from EAR reflected this, at least that’s the way it appeared to me. It seems that EAR only changed something in the design of an amplifier because of a lack of parts availability. I can imagine Tim saying “They were designed properly the first time. They don’t need revision”. With his incredibly long career in the design of amplifiers it is probable that he did know pretty much all the ins and outs of designing a perfect circuit. I admire him either way for sticking to his guns and avoiding change driven only by the marketing department.

My visit the following week to the factory in St Neots near Cambridge started the way a lot of UK factory visits start. First you have to find the place…

It’s such a very British thing to do, you know, hide your factory. In Australia there would be a billboard sized sign indicating the existence of the factory and a giant arrow pointing the way to the front door. In the UK there is usually a small ‘plaque’ (or A4 sheet of paper as per one factory I visited years ago) subtly indicating what’s going on inside an otherwise featureless industrial unit. EAR is no different, with the smallest of signs (when I visited), but inside there is some serious stuff going on. Tim was incredibly generous with his time that day. He spoke endlessly of all aspects of the manufacturing process but also of his life and things he had done.

I did a lot of listening that day, a day that ended long after the staff had gone home.

I couldn’t possibly absorb even a small percentage of what he had to say. Facts came thick and fast with an enthusiasm I found stunning. He was particularly happy to talk about how much of the insides of an EAR amp are made locally or in-house. It seemed to me that bar a handful of caps, resistors and tubes, everything was made within a 5 mile radius of the factory I was standing in. He mentioned his work with David Gilmour of Pink Floyd, and the method employed to gain access to the studio Dave has on a boat. Tim was clearly pleased that he could appear at the security camera of Mr Gilmour’s tunnel access to his floating studio, and be let straight in. He spoke of his time spent in Australia in the 70s. I suggested it had changed a bit since then. He detailed where he had worked, in the middle of nowhere. “In that case”, I said, “It probably hasn’t changed…”

We exited the building and said our goodbyes, then immediately started a conversation about cars.

Another 20 minutes zipped past. Again, I wondered at Tim’s incredible general all-round knowledge. He suggested he should get home though, and considering it was now close to 9pm, I agreed. I thanked him again for his time, shook his hand once more and we both drove off into the dimming light of the evening. On my 45 minute drive back to my hotel I pondered the man, his life and whether I would have the pleasure of chatting again. I’m not sure why I had this thought. I had no knowledge of his personal health issues. I now of course feel even more privileged to have enjoyed so much time in his company. No doubt everyone who has spent time with him over his many years in the business feels the same way.

Rest in Peace Tim De Paravicini – king of tube design and general knowledge.

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