In addition, I found it much easier to distinguish the direct sounds of the instruments from the ambience of the venue. That's not to say that the F228Be's dissociated the two, but one's perception of their relationship is subject to several variables: the characteristics of the ambience, the tonal quality of the direct sounds, and, significantly, the apparent distance between the voice or instrument and the microphone/listener within the ambient space. My favorite analogy of this is of being hailed and approached by a friend in the reverberant space of Manhattan's Grand Central Station. At first it's hard to hear, but due to the familiarity of my friend's voice, I can distinguish his greeting from the morass of noise. As he approaches and his voice gets louder, it becomes more characteristic. Finally, as he stands just before me, I hear just his voice because my brain has filtered and de-emphasized everything else.
The F228Be's clarity helped me discern subtleties of space and proximity that, at a live event, I can fool myself into thinking I'm actually hearing because I have the aid of visual information. However, with John Atkinson's recording of Eriks Eenvalds's The First Tears, from Ethan Sperry and the Portland State Chamber Choir's The Doors of Heaven (CD, Naxos 8.579008), I had to wonder how much my appreciation of the space and the performance might be enhanced if I could also see it.
I have two recordings of Biber's Mystery Sonatas for Violin: by Andrew Manze (2 CDs, Harmonia Mundi 907321/22), and by John Holloway (2 CDs, Virgin Veritas 7 59551 2, footnote 1). The small, accompanying basso-continuo ensembles on these recordings are similar, but their sounds are entirely different. I always hear Manze's violin right between the speakers; Holloway is farther back and less distinct, tempting me to turn up the volume. Through the Revels, it was clear that Manze was, in fact, much closer to the recording microphones than was Holloway, thus making it possible for me to easily distinguish between ensemble and ambience. Because Holloway and his ensemble were farther from the mikes, it was impossible for me dissociate their sounds from the ambiance, regardless of how loudly I played this recording. Bottom line: the soundstages delivered by the F228Be's were satisfyingly accurate as they were, and didn't warrant my fiddling with the volume control to make them something they weren't.
So far, all I've dealt with is the F228Be's sound from the upper bass to the lower treble: the meat of the midrange, where most music lives. It attracted my attention because it sounded so good there. But of course there's more to the audioband. The F228Be's treble never called attention to itself, yet never seemed to be lacking. Cymbals and triangles were precisely defined, while the upper strings had a lustrous sheen and never sounded harsh—unless that was the player's intention. I'd had concerns about this at demos of this speaker at CES; at home, I had none.
Bass was full, extended, and surprisingly tight. I reveled (sorry) in the clarity and definition of notes from pedaled organ pipes, bass guitars, and orchestral double basses, amply satisfied with their weight. The F228Be's are big enough and went deep enough, but this might be an issue for those who are used to more prominent, resonant bass. I wouldn't consider adding a subwoofer to a pair of F228Be's.
Amplifiers & Comparisons
I find it hard to criticize the Revel F228Be. This speaker was very transparent to whatever I fed it, and each of the three amps I tried made distinct contributions to the sound. I began with the Benchmark AHB-2 monoblocks, and was seduced by the naked beauty of the midrange and treble, and the striking reproduction of transients both great and delicate. In fact, I felt no motivation to try the other amps, and did so only in the interests of responsible reviewing.
But when I switched to Parasound's Halo A 31 I was pleasantly surprised: From the midbass down, the Halo added a gratifying richness and weight with no sacrifice of definition. As for the rest of the audioband, I suspect there was a slight bit of softening, but I couldn't put my finger on it because of how long it took me to swap out amps.
From Classé Audio's Sigma Monos I heard a low end somewhere between those of the Benchmarks and Parasound, but the treble was encumbered by an oh, so slight dryness, a bigger dollop of which is characteristic of most class-D amps. If I were to buy the Revels, I'd have to stage a shoot-out between the Benchmarks (with a subtle house-curve EQ) and the Parasound.
As for comparisons with other loudspeakers, the one I recall sounding most similar to the F228Be is the Kii Audio Three, which offered comparably transparent and nonresonant sound. With the stand-mounted Kii's I couldn't load the room with bass as I could with the floorstanding Revels, but that shouldn't surprise. Fading memory prevents me from comparing the Performa F228Be to the Ultima Studio2; I refer you to the article, "Blind Listening at Harman International," for some relevant insight. On hand, of course, were my reference B&W 802 D3s, which at $22,000/pair cost far more than the Performa F228Be's. The B&W's bass is bigger and equally as tight, and its upper bass endows it with a bit of authority the F228Be lacked. On the other hand, the Revel seemed notably more smooth and linear throughout the rest of the audioband, and didn't suffer from the B&W's upper-midrange reticence. And when I put ear to tweeter, the hiss I heard through the B&W was louder, and tipped more to the upper treble.
Conclusions
Overall, I'm thrilled with the sound of Revel's Performa F228Be's in my listening room. Across the audioband and at any listening level, they offered remarkably transparent reproduction of music in the tonal, time, and spatial domains, and my ears, brain, and mind simply loved them. I haven't heard every speaker in the world, but I think that with the Performa F228Be Revel has planted a flag in the ground at the $10,000/pair meridian that challenges all other manufacturers—and themselves—to justify charging any significantly higher price for a domestic loudspeaker.
Footnote 1: John Holloway was the concertmaster of my high school orchestra, in which I was a lowly second violin. John's outsized talent as a violinist was evident even then.—John Atkinson
I have two recordings of Biber's Mystery Sonatas for Violin: by Andrew Manze (2 CDs, Harmonia Mundi 907321/22), and by John Holloway (2 CDs, Virgin Veritas 7 59551 2, footnote 1). The small, accompanying basso-continuo ensembles on these recordings are similar, but their sounds are entirely different. I always hear Manze's violin right between the speakers; Holloway is farther back and less distinct, tempting me to turn up the volume. Through the Revels, it was clear that Manze was, in fact, much closer to the recording microphones than was Holloway, thus making it possible for me to easily distinguish between ensemble and ambience. Because Holloway and his ensemble were farther from the mikes, it was impossible for me dissociate their sounds from the ambiance, regardless of how loudly I played this recording. Bottom line: the soundstages delivered by the F228Be's were satisfyingly accurate as they were, and didn't warrant my fiddling with the volume control to make them something they weren't.
I find it hard to criticize the Revel F228Be. This speaker was very transparent to whatever I fed it, and each of the three amps I tried made distinct contributions to the sound. I began with the Benchmark AHB-2 monoblocks, and was seduced by the naked beauty of the midrange and treble, and the striking reproduction of transients both great and delicate. In fact, I felt no motivation to try the other amps, and did so only in the interests of responsible reviewing.
But when I switched to Parasound's Halo A 31 I was pleasantly surprised: From the midbass down, the Halo added a gratifying richness and weight with no sacrifice of definition. As for the rest of the audioband, I suspect there was a slight bit of softening, but I couldn't put my finger on it because of how long it took me to swap out amps.
From Classé Audio's Sigma Monos I heard a low end somewhere between those of the Benchmarks and Parasound, but the treble was encumbered by an oh, so slight dryness, a bigger dollop of which is characteristic of most class-D amps. If I were to buy the Revels, I'd have to stage a shoot-out between the Benchmarks (with a subtle house-curve EQ) and the Parasound.
As for comparisons with other loudspeakers, the one I recall sounding most similar to the F228Be is the Kii Audio Three, which offered comparably transparent and nonresonant sound. With the stand-mounted Kii's I couldn't load the room with bass as I could with the floorstanding Revels, but that shouldn't surprise. Fading memory prevents me from comparing the Performa F228Be to the Ultima Studio2; I refer you to the article, "Blind Listening at Harman International," for some relevant insight. On hand, of course, were my reference B&W 802 D3s, which at $22,000/pair cost far more than the Performa F228Be's. The B&W's bass is bigger and equally as tight, and its upper bass endows it with a bit of authority the F228Be lacked. On the other hand, the Revel seemed notably more smooth and linear throughout the rest of the audioband, and didn't suffer from the B&W's upper-midrange reticence. And when I put ear to tweeter, the hiss I heard through the B&W was louder, and tipped more to the upper treble.
ConclusionsOverall, I'm thrilled with the sound of Revel's Performa F228Be's in my listening room. Across the audioband and at any listening level, they offered remarkably transparent reproduction of music in the tonal, time, and spatial domains, and my ears, brain, and mind simply loved them. I haven't heard every speaker in the world, but I think that with the Performa F228Be Revel has planted a flag in the ground at the $10,000/pair meridian that challenges all other manufacturers—and themselves—to justify charging any significantly higher price for a domestic loudspeaker.
Footnote 1: John Holloway was the concertmaster of my high school orchestra, in which I was a lowly second violin. John's outsized talent as a violinist was evident even then.—John Atkinson
