Forgotten Names in Turntable Manufacturing: Part IV – Braun and Dieter Rams' Timeless Precision

In the previous installments of this series, we explored turntable manufacturers whose names have faded from common audiophile conversation, despite having shaped the way records were played, perceived, and valued. In this fourth article, we turn our attention to a company that is anything but obscure in design history—yet remains oddly underrepresented in turntable lore: Braun and Dieter Rams' Timeless Precision, one of the most influential designers of the 20th century whose philosophy permanently altered how audio equipment looked, felt, and communicated its purpose.

While Braun is often remembered for radios, shavers, and calculators, its turntables quietly redefined the visual and conceptual language of analog playback—and, by extension, modern hi-fi itself.

Braun Before the Turntable

Founded in Frankfurt in 1921, Braun initially made radio components and complete receivers. By the 1950s, as postwar Germany rebuilt both its industry and identity, Braun sought to distinguish itself from competitors not through ornamentation, but through clarity, restraint, and honesty of form.

This shift coincided with the arrival of Dieter Rams, who joined Braun in 1955 and became head of design in 1961, and established a philosophy that would define the 20th century: Weniger, aber besser (Less, but better).

In the context of turntable manufacturing, this was a radical departure. In the 1950s and 60s, hi-fi equipment was often disguised as heavy furniture—clunky wooden sideboards or over-ornamented boxes. Rams stripped this away. He believed audio equipment should be "honest." It shouldn't pretend to be a cabinet; it should celebrate its function as a machine.

Rams did not see consumer electronics as luxury objects or decorative furniture; he saw them as tools for living, objects that should be understandable at a glance and unobtrusive in daily life.

That perspective would profoundly shape Braun’s approach to turntables.

The SK Series: A New Grammar for Hi-Fi

Braun’s first major statement in record playback came not as a standalone turntable, but as part of an integrated system. The SK series—notably the SK 4 (1956), designed by Rams in collaboration with Hans Gugelot—combined radio, amplifier, and record player into a single, rational whole.

Prior to the SK 4, turntables had wooden or metal lids that hid the mechanism. Rams and Gugelot chose a transparent acrylic cover. It was controversial at the time—competitors mocked it as "Snow White's Coffin"—but it became the industry standard. If you are looking at a modern turntable with a clear dust cover today, you are looking at the legacy of the SK 4.

The SK 4 shocked consumers accustomed to dark wood consoles and ornate grilles. This was not a piece of furniture pretending to be technology. It was technology, unapologetically visible.

The turntable mechanism itself, often sourced from specialists like Dual or Perpetuum-Ebner, was not the most exotic of its time. Yet its presentation was revolutionary:

• The platter and tonearm were clearly separated visually

• Controls were logically grouped and labelled

• Nothing was hidden without reason

For the first time, a record player looked modern—and modernity was not expressed through chrome or excess, but through absence.

Braun Turntables as Design Statements

As Braun expanded its audio lineup through the 1960s and early 1970s, turntables appeared both integrated and standalone, including models such as the PCS 5, PS 500, and later Atelier-compatible units. While technically competent rather than extreme, these turntables embodied Rams’ emerging principles, later distilled into his famous ten rules of good design.

Braun turntables were:

• Visually quiet – matte surfaces, neutral colors, no decorative flourishes

• Functionally legible – the user could understand operation instantly

• Human-scaled – controls sized for fingers, not spectacle

• Timeless – resisting trends that would date them within years

Importantly, Braun never chased the high-mass, over-engineered aesthetic that later defined audiophile excess. Instead, their turntables communicated confidence through restraint.

The Audiophile Choice: The PS 500

While the SK 4 is a design icon, the Braun PS 500 (introduced in 1968) is the machine that demands the audiophile’s respect. If you find one of these in the wild, do not pass it up.

The PS 500 was not a "style over substance" product; it was a broadcast-standard machine dressed in a tuxedo. Its engineering contained a fascinating solution to the eternal problem of drive noise:

• The Hybrid Drive: The PS 500 utilizes a unique idler-drive plus belt-drive system. The motor spins a stepped conical shaft. A rubber idler wheel engages this shaft (allowing for variable speed pitch control, a benefit of idlers), but instead of driving the platter directly, the idler drives a sub-platter via a belt. This ingenious hybrid offered the torque and speed stability of an idler drive with the noise isolation of a belt drive.

• Oil-Hydraulic Suspension: Years before the suspended sub-chassis became the standard for British decks, Braun was using oil-damped hydraulic springs to isolate the heavy chassis from footfalls and acoustic feedback.

• The Look: Finished in crinkle-coat black or grey anthracite with a brushed aluminium platter, the PS 500 looks like it belongs in the cockpit of a Cold War jet fighter. It is heavy, precise, and completely devoid of unnecessary decoration.

Engineering Without Ego

From a purely technical standpoint, Braun’s turntables rarely competed head-on with the most advanced Swiss or Japanese designs of the era. They often relied on proven drive systems—idler or belt—sourced or licensed from established manufacturers.

But this was intentional.

Rams believed that technology should not dominate the user. If a solution worked reliably and transparently, it did not need visual emphasis or marketing bravado. In this sense, Braun turntables anticipated a philosophy later embraced by companies like Rega: focus on usability, balance, and coherence, rather than specifications alone.

For the audiophile, this raises an uncomfortable question: how often do we mistake visibility for performance?

The Long Shadow of Dieter Rams

The influence of Braun’s turntable design extends far beyond vinyl playback. Rams’ work for Braun became the blueprint for modern consumer electronics, influencing companies from Sony to Muji—and most famously, Apple.

Jonathan Ive has openly acknowledged Rams as a primary inspiration. When one looks at an iPod, an iPhone, or even a MacBook, the lineage from Braun’s SK and PS series is unmistakable: flat planes, restrained controls, and a refusal to shout.

Yet in audiophile circles, Braun turntables are often dismissed as “design objects,” as if design and sound exist in opposition. This is perhaps Braun’s greatest misfortune—and why they belong in this series.

Why Braun Became “Forgotten” in Turntable History

Braun’s marginalization in turntable mythology stems from several factors:

1. They did not manufacture drives in-house, making them less attractive to spec-focused historians

2. They avoided audiophile hyperbole, focusing on systems rather than fetishized components

3. They exited the high-end audio market relatively early, pivoting toward broader consumer products

As vinyl culture became increasingly obsessed with isolation platforms, exotic materials, and visual drama, Braun’s calm rationalism felt almost subversive—and was quietly sidelined.

Rediscovering Braun Today

In today’s context, Braun turntables feel newly relevant. As minimalism re-enters audio design and younger listeners seek clarity over clutter, Braun’s work reads not as retro, but as uncannily contemporary.

Collectors prize original SK and PS units not merely for sound, but for philosophical coherence—machines that respect both the music and the listener. Restored examples, paired with modern cartridges, can deliver performance that surprises those who mistake understatement for inadequacy.

More importantly, Braun reminds us that turntables are not only acoustic instruments, but cultural objects—interfaces between human beings and recorded memory.

Design as an Act of Listening

In examining Braun and Dieter Rams, we are reminded that some of the most important contributions to turntable history were not made with heavier platters or more elaborate suspensions, but with better questions.

What does the user need?

What can be removed?

How does form support understanding?

Braun’s turntables did not demand attention—they earned trust. And perhaps that is why, decades later, they remain quietly influential, waiting to be rediscovered by those willing to listen with both ears and eyes.