Ken Micallef wrote about the Elac Debut B6 in July 2016 (Vol.39 No.7):
After their big splash at the 2015 Rocky Mountain Audio Fest, and following Herb Reichert's munificent review in Stereophile, I was as pleased as a patch of pickled power tubes when John Atkinson delivered to my door the Elac Debut B6 loudspeakers. What began as an audition turned into this Follow-Up review.
In his April 2016 review of the Debut B6, Herb wrote: "The main thing I noticed was how water-clear and relaxed the sound was: open, not grainy or stiff." He also observed that "my critical faculties were ambushed by the Debut B6's good tone and easy-flowing musicality."
Is there much more one can desire from a stand-mounted speaker for under $300/pair?
I've long been on a quest for a pair of minimonitors that could deliver the goods, boogie-wise, joined to such equally important (to me) sonic traits as palpability, texture, dynamics, soundstaging, and, perhaps most important, tonal purity. My DeVore Fidelity Orangutan O/93s ($8500/pair) consistently hit high notes in all of those regards, delivering full-blown sonic goodness and so much more, 24/7. Depending on the recording, the warm-hearted apes can sometimes overwhelm my diminutive Greenwich Village residence, enveloping me from head to twinkling toes in glorious music, yet with an occasional loose lower octave or two. Alternately, while my chunky Snell J Type/II speakers ($400/pair used, eBay) can't equal the DeVores in most areas, their concise soundstage, transparency, and pinpoint imaging always serve the music. I'd hoped the more contemporary design of the Elac Debut B6 would surpass my dreams and somehow do it all in one tiny-tot package, and for the remarkable price of $279.99/pair!
Inside their very sturdy box, the Elacs weigh little—14.3 lbs each—which made the seven-floor climb to my penthouse pad a breeze. I unboxed the speakers and placed them atop a pair of 24"-high Bowers & Wilkins stands, which are coupled to my wood-slat floor with 1" steel spikes. Recalling my friend and audio compadre Steve Cohen's comment that the all-steel B&W stands might require sonic taming to defeat potential ringing, I placed four small (½") squares of mahogany on the stands' top plates, and the B6es atop those squares.
The Debut B6 is unassuming, even plain-Jane in its low-rent-looking vinyl veneer. But as with all loudspeakers, the magic happens inside. The speaker measures 13.9" high by 8.4" wide by 9.9" deep, and delivers its high-frequency messages through a 1" fabric-dome tweeter, its mid/lower-range notes via a 6.5" woofer with an aramid-fiber cone. The tweeter propels sound through a distinctive-looking, mesh-like, "deep-spheroid" waveguide," to quote Elac. The woofer is reflex-loaded with a flared port. The speaker's sensitivity is 87dB/2.83V/m; its nominal impedance is a fairly happy load of 6 ohms.
Once situated and fired up, the Elacs weren't finicky, performing well regardless of where they landed in my roughly 10' by 15' listening parlor. Positioned 3' from the front wall—the usual spot for my O/93s—the B6es immediately sounded clean and resolute. Bass weight and extension improved when I pushed the Elacs into the room's corners: palpability and texture, even more so. Placing them 14" from the side corners, 60" apart, and 7' from my listening spot added meat-on-the-bones solidity to the Elacs' purposeful (but never forward) sound. That's where they remained for part one of this Follow-Up, connected to my Shindo Laboratory Haut-Brion amplifier ($11,500) via Auditorium 23 speaker cables ($800/8' pair).
Also in the system were my Kuzma Stabi S turntable ($1500) with Stogi S tonearm ($1425), Denon DL-103 cartridge (ca $225), DL-103-specific Auditorium 23 step-up transformer ($999), and Shindo Allegro two-box preamplifier ($8500). I also evaluated the Elac Debut B6es with other components I have in for review: Music Hall's MMF-7.3 turntable ($1595, including Ortofon 2M Red cartridge), and Unison Research's Unico Primo integrated amplifier ($2150, or $2400 with optional phono board; see my review elsewhere in this issue) driving the Snell J Type/II monitors via AudioQuest GO-4 speaker cables ($528.75/6' pair).
Bang the drum, loudly
As a former percussionist, I collect percussion LPs of all genres. The instruments of the orchestral percussion section provide a rich dynamic range. If brilliantly played and well recorded, the snare drum, timpani, vibraphone, bells, bass drum, and triangle can exist as sonic touchstones of a sort that only the ear can detect and the heart can feel. Favorite percussion recordings include Ohana's 4 Etudes Choreographiques, performed by Les Percussions de Strasbourg (LP, Limelight LS 86051), Charles Wuorinen's Percussion Symphony, performed by the New Jersey Percussion Ensemble (LP, Nonesuch H-71353), and the Percussion Group Cincinnati's Music of Herbert Brun, Theodore May, et al (LP, Opus One Box 604). Another favorite is Makoto Aruga and Percussion Ensemble's Digital Percussion (LP, Seven Seas K28C-165). Lest that title make you shudder, imagining sampled Lego pieces clicking and clacking in some Atari-like computer game, Aruga and his group perform Carlos Chavez's Toccata for Percussion, and it's brilliant! Digital Percussion showed the B6's quick and plentiful rendering of dynamic range, tone, and texture. From ppp snare-drum rolls to thunderous bass-drum smacks and equally profound timpani rumbles, the B6es showed no signs of flagging (actually, this was true for every record put to them). And they sounded better as I amped up the volume. There was nothing "mini" here, but a liberal dynamic range expressed most joyously (for me) in the B6's impressive retrieval and delivery of bass. The B6 went lower more easily than any small box speaker I've heard, but that was only half the story. When issuing deep-barreled timpani, booming bass drums, or even coiling electric bass, the B6 combined each note's frequency—the low-tonnage warfare every hip-hop lover demands—with the instrument's texture, timbre, and grip. The B6 consistently rendered this visceral feast in utterly coherent fashion. Only when Digital Percussion's assortment of bells zinged forth did I notice a slight hardening or dryness in the B6's upper frequencies. This trait, too, was consistent from record to record. My curiosity piqued, I wanted to hear more of the B6's sweet way with woolly bass notes. I dropped on the Kuzma's platter Loscil's Sketches from New Brighton (LP, Kranky 171). Ambient electronic music is something I crave from time to time, perhaps to calm my senses during New York City's summers of urban heat and high-decibel street combat. Loscil covers me in lovely synthesizer fog and oily beats, the gelatin-like waves "possessing and caressing me" (to quote John Lennon). Like a locomotive releasing steam, the B6's squirming low-end bass tentacles filled the room. Its delivery of nearly subsonic bass drops confirmed the B6's bass-emitting prowess, which was seamlessly integrated with the speaker's upper mid and treble.
As a former percussionist, I collect percussion LPs of all genres. The instruments of the orchestral percussion section provide a rich dynamic range. If brilliantly played and well recorded, the snare drum, timpani, vibraphone, bells, bass drum, and triangle can exist as sonic touchstones of a sort that only the ear can detect and the heart can feel. Favorite percussion recordings include Ohana's 4 Etudes Choreographiques, performed by Les Percussions de Strasbourg (LP, Limelight LS 86051), Charles Wuorinen's Percussion Symphony, performed by the New Jersey Percussion Ensemble (LP, Nonesuch H-71353), and the Percussion Group Cincinnati's Music of Herbert Brun, Theodore May, et al (LP, Opus One Box 604). Another favorite is Makoto Aruga and Percussion Ensemble's Digital Percussion (LP, Seven Seas K28C-165). Lest that title make you shudder, imagining sampled Lego pieces clicking and clacking in some Atari-like computer game, Aruga and his group perform Carlos Chavez's Toccata for Percussion, and it's brilliant! Digital Percussion showed the B6's quick and plentiful rendering of dynamic range, tone, and texture. From ppp snare-drum rolls to thunderous bass-drum smacks and equally profound timpani rumbles, the B6es showed no signs of flagging (actually, this was true for every record put to them). And they sounded better as I amped up the volume. There was nothing "mini" here, but a liberal dynamic range expressed most joyously (for me) in the B6's impressive retrieval and delivery of bass. The B6 went lower more easily than any small box speaker I've heard, but that was only half the story. When issuing deep-barreled timpani, booming bass drums, or even coiling electric bass, the B6 combined each note's frequency—the low-tonnage warfare every hip-hop lover demands—with the instrument's texture, timbre, and grip. The B6 consistently rendered this visceral feast in utterly coherent fashion. Only when Digital Percussion's assortment of bells zinged forth did I notice a slight hardening or dryness in the B6's upper frequencies. This trait, too, was consistent from record to record. My curiosity piqued, I wanted to hear more of the B6's sweet way with woolly bass notes. I dropped on the Kuzma's platter Loscil's Sketches from New Brighton (LP, Kranky 171). Ambient electronic music is something I crave from time to time, perhaps to calm my senses during New York City's summers of urban heat and high-decibel street combat. Loscil covers me in lovely synthesizer fog and oily beats, the gelatin-like waves "possessing and caressing me" (to quote John Lennon). Like a locomotive releasing steam, the B6's squirming low-end bass tentacles filled the room. Its delivery of nearly subsonic bass drops confirmed the B6's bass-emitting prowess, which was seamlessly integrated with the speaker's upper mid and treble.
