The Atrium 45s let you listen to music in almost any outdoor location — exceptionally rugged construction means they don't need to be sheltered under a roof or eaves.

Atriums in action

I have to admit, I was a bit skeptical that the Atrium 45s would deliver sound that I found truly pleasing. While hardly a dyed-in-the-wool audiophile, I am fussier about sound than most people I know. It's rare that I find the sound of bookshelf speakers in this price range (around $200 for a pair) more than so-so. The Atrium 45s are also more compact than most bookshelf speakers, and face the greater challenges of an outdoor setting, where it's particularly difficult to achieve decent bass response.

I tested out these speakers with a cross-section of discs from my music collection, in an effort to get a feel for how they handled various musical genres, as well as recordings of different eras. The first CD I played was Kenny Dorham's classic Trompeta Toccata album. The title track began with a dramatic flourish — Dorham's unaccompanied trumpet rang out boldly and vividly across my back yard, simultaneously mournful and defiant. When the full band finally kicked in behind Dorham with a roiling, spring-loaded Latin beat, I got my first taste of what these speakers could do.

Let's just say I was very pleasantly surprised. The Atriums delivered rich, warm sound and — when I was positioned in the listening "sweet spot" on my porch — a stereo image with significant depth. The highs were crisp without being overbright, while the midrange was well-defined and balanced. What impressed the most, however, was the bass response. I never imagined that a speaker so small, in an outdoor setting, could produce bass that was so full-bodied and powerful.

More music, more music

Switching gears, I next threw on The Black Light by the band Calexico. I was pleased to hear the spooky, reverb-drenched soundscapes of this album unfold with three-dimensional clarity. Subtle sonic brushstokes, like a curling wisp of steel-pedal guitar here or the ghostly echo of a mariachi band there, were conveyed cleanly and precisely. The result was an impressively faithful reproduction of Calexico's sun-blistered, Southwestern musical canvas.

Another highlight came when I played James Brown's Motherlode album. When I cued up the track "She's the One," one of my all-time funk favorites, the Atrium 45s did not let me down. They effortlessly handled the telepathic interplay between Brown and co-vocalist Bobby Byrd. More impressively, they reproduced the song's remarkably interlocking guitar, bass and drum lines with power and real bass heft.