Plinius SB-301 stereo power Amplifier

For the record, the SB-301 is neutrally balanced, conveying just a hint of ripeness in the midrange and an element of warmth in the lower mids and upper bass. I prefer the darker, richer energy in the mids for the way it makes voices sound as if they are originating from the diaphragm, rather than the throat. Also purged in this design is the whitish rise in the treble that I noted in earlier Plinius models. The result is a treble that is nearly romantic, yet not so roundly euphonic that one would be reminded of a retrobrand of tube sound. Its performance will be as luminous and unconstricted as your tweeter and cabling allow; if you don’t hear a cushion of air beneath harmonics, something is awry. Low-end resolution and control are models of solid-state excellence—a breathtaking example being the chocolaty bottom octave of Peter Wispelwey’s cello during Kol Nidre [Channel Classics].

But it’s when the Plinius turns its attention to the subtleties of sound reproduction that it truly shows its greatness. To begin with, backgrounds are eerily quiet and raven-black. This allows the Plinius a palette of tonal colors that is as vivid as anything I’ve heard. It simply heightens performance and timbral details like few others, making any instrument at any volume instantly identifiable. Imaging is articulate and uncluttered (no surprise since the Plinius’ larger power supply/ dual transformer combo means superior channel separation). Like past Plinius amps the SB-301 also has the timing down. On the macro-level it drives the music forward, locks onto rhythm sections, and propels hip-hop pulses. On a microlevel it has the ability to align, focus, and sustain the fundamentals and harmonics of a solo grand piano [The Lark, Kissin, RCA]. The SB-301 articulates dynamic gradations and transient information with astounding delicacy. Whether I was listening to an a cappella line of Laurel Massé [Feather and Bone] or the firecracker mandolin virtuosity of Chris Thile of Nickel Creek [This Side, Sugar Hill] or Edgar Meyer digging deep into his acoustic bass [Appalachian Journey, Sony], I became keenly aware of the “touch” of the performer always modulating volume and attack. Weaknesses? Soundstage depth and layering might be improved, but not by much. As for its competition, my listening room door is always open.