Excelvan Bm 800 Vs Floureon Bm 800

There is a peculiar magic in the objects we used to record our voices before the world went fully wireless. Before the smartphone became an omnipresent studio, before podcasts were streamed from subway cars, there was a humble, utilitarian device that promised to democratize audio: the condenser microphone. In the late 2000s and early 2010s, a strange phenomenon took hold of the budding creator economy. You could not walk into a nascent YouTuber’s bedroom without seeing a shock mount cradling a silver or black capsule, perched precariously on a cheap boom arm. The names on these devices were often unpronounceable Chinese brands, yet they sold by the millions. Among the most ubiquitous were the Excelvan BM-800 and the Floureon BM-800, two nearly identical clones of a design that had become the unofficial badge of the amateur broadcaster. To understand their appeal is to understand a moment in history when the internet was still young, and every voice, no matter how unpolished, felt like it deserved a stage.

The genesis of the BM-800 is not a story of innovation in a pristine laboratory, but of industrial replication in Shenzhen’s sprawling electronics markets. The original design owed a debt to classic side-address condenser microphones, themselves descendants of the legendary 1960s Neumann U87, but stripped down to the bare essentials. The BM-800 was never meant to be a high-fidelity instrument; it was a gateway drug. For a college student in 2012, spending $25 on a microphone that looked vaguely professional was a profound psychological shift. It whispered, You are a creator now. The initial human necessity behind this device was not perfect audio—it was legitimacy. It was the need to feel that your ramblings about video games or amateur ASMR sessions were worthy of a physical apparatus, a tool that separated you from the mundane reality of a laptop’s built-in mic. The Excelvan and Floureon versions of this phenomenon offered the same promise, differing mainly in the color of their paint and the slightly different hiss levels they introduced to your recordings.

Looking back, the ritual of setting up these microphones was a rite of passage for a generation of storytellers. You would unscrew the heavy metal yoke, attach the spider shock mount, and then spend twenty minutes fighting with a pop filter that always seemed to be made of the flimsiest nylon. The USB interface was often a phantom-powered XLR connection, forcing novices to buy a separate, clunky audio interface—a Pebble, a Behringer—that would soon become a permanent fixture of their desks. The ache to be heard was so raw that we tolerated the constant 60Hz hum, the sibilance that could cut glass, and the fact that any laptop fan nearby would sound like a jet engine. Both the Excelvan and Floureon became synonymous with this era, a time when audio quality was less important than the act of speaking into a piece of professional-looking gear. It was the digital equivalent of putting on a costume for a performance, and we were all eager actors in a new, unscripted play.

The Great Clone Wars: Transformations and Bizarre Vintage Realities

The most fascinating aspect of the Excelvan BM-800 versus Floureon BM-800 debate is that it was never a real debate, but a mirror reflecting the chaotic nature of early global e-commerce. These microphones were not designed by different engineers; they were often built in the same factories, with only the silkscreen logo different. The 2013 vintage of the Floureon often had a brighter, more brittle top-end, while the Excelvan of the same year had a slightly darker, rounder low mid. This was not a design choice but a random artifact of which capacitor batch was used on a given Tuesday. The bizarre vintage reality is that early adopters treated these differences as profound audiophile secrets, writing lengthy forum posts about the "warmth" of the Floureon versus the "clarity" of the Excelvan, unwittingly describing statistical manufacturing tolerance rather than intentional engineering. This was the golden era of the wild west, where reviews were paid for, specifications were fabricated, and the word "professional" meant nothing at all.

Forgotten facts about these microphones are steeped in the bizarre physicality of their use. To make them sound even remotely good, users were forced to sit inches away, practically eating the mesh grille. This created the infamous "proximity effect" that made every podcast host sound like a bass-heavy late-night FM DJ. The microphones were also notoriously sensitive to electromagnetic interference; placing a phone within three feet would produce a rhythmic, Morse-code-like clicking that we now know was GSM interference, but at the time was blamed on ghosts or faulty drivers. The capsules themselves were electret condenser elements, a technology that was genuinely cheap to produce, but which aged terribly. A 2015 Excelvan BM-800 that worked perfectly might develop a crackling static by 2017 due to the polarizing voltage degrading in humid environments. The Floureon, with its thinner paint job, was often the first to rust around the screw posts, a macabre reminder that our digital voices were being stored on decaying analog metal.

The treatment of these microphones in previous decades—if we stretch the analogy to the 1980s and 1990s—was remarkably similar to how home video cameras were treated. They were consumer items that pretended to be broadcast gear. The bizarre part is that nobody expected a BM-800 to behave as a proper instrument. It was a prop. You bought it for the aesthetic, for the way it looked in the corner of your webcam frame, and then you spent an additional $200 on a DBX 286S processor to make it sound passable. The Excelvan and Floureon were the fast food of audio—cheap, filling, and sometimes giving you a digital stomach ache. The most prominent legacy of these devices is not their sound, but the fact that they initiated millions into the world of XLR cables, preamps, and the terrifying concept of "phantom power." That fear of pressing the +48V button without a condenser mic connected taught more people about basic electronics than any textbook.

As the decade progressed, the landscape shifted violently. By 2018, the USB microphone revolution—the Blue Yeti and the Snowball—had decimated the low-end XLR market. But the BM-800 clones refused to die. They found a second life in the world of ASMR, where their high sensitivity to rustling and tapping sounds, though technically a flaw, became a desired feature. The Floureon, with its slightly lower noise floor, became a cult favorite among ASMRtists, while the Excelvan was relegated to voiceover work for skits. A rarely discussed fact is that the shock mounts included with these packages were almost universally terrible—the bungee cords would stretch out of shape after a month, causing the microphone to slowly droop into a comical, flaccid angle. Yet our attachment to these flawed tools was genuine. They taught us the humility of audio engineering; they taught us that the gear does not make the artist, but it can certainly ruin them.

Modern Hacking: The Analog Relic in a Neural World

Today, the principles of the BM-800 are being hacked and modernized in ways that its original designers never imagined. The fast-paced world of 2024 is dominated by AI-driven noise suppression and in-ear monitors, but a strange revival is happening. Software like Clarity Vx and Adobe Podcast AI can strip away the hiss and hum of a 2012 BM-800 in milliseconds, turning a previously unusable track into a clean, dry signal. This has led to a modern "lo-fi" audio aesthetic, where content creators deliberately use the Floureon BM-800 because its inherent graininess adds a nostalgic, human texture that pristine digital audio lacks. The classic principle of "garbage in, garbage out" has been inverted; now, it is "garbage in, magic out," as AI reconstructs the missing frequency spectrum with frightening accuracy. Hackers have even wired these old condensers to Raspberry Pis, using them as always-on voice assistants that kick in only when the vintage hum is detected, bridging the gap between retro hobby and smart home.

The modern hack is to treat these microphones as a physical EQ curve. The Excelvan, with its darker tone, is now used by streamers to hide the harshness of their vocal fry, while the Floureon, being slightly brighter, is used by audiobook narrators to add a perceived "crispness" that requires minimal post-processing. This is a reversal of the old days when we sought to fix the microphones; today, we let the microphones fix us. The brutal honesty of the BM-800, the way it exposes background noise and mouth clicks, has become a feature in the "unboxing" and "cozy gaming" genres, where the authenticity of the room noise is more valuable than clean audio. The most interesting modernization is the use of these microphones as impulse response sources for convolution reverbs. Recording a clap in front of a Floureon and importing that sample into a plugin allows modern engineers to emulate that cheap, boxy room tone, a bizarre nostalgia trip that sells millions of virtual copies.

Historical Myths and Modern FAQs

Is the Excelvan BM-800 truly better than the Floureon BM-800, or is it a placebo?

The mythology surrounding these two microphones is deep and persistent. In the 2012-2014 era, online forums were ablaze with claims that the Excelvan had a "warmer mid-range" while the Floureon was "harsh in the highs." This is almost entirely placebo and batch variation. Both microphones use the same generic 16mm electret condenser capsule, a component that had a tolerance of roughly ±5dB in frequency response between individual units. This means you could buy two Excelvans on the same day and hear a greater difference between them than you would between an average Excelvan and a Floureon. The historical myth was fueled by sellers who would advertise "matched pairs" with different logos, charging extra for a premium that didn't exist. The real difference was often the build quality of the XLR connector; Floureon sometimes used a slightly cheaper zinc alloy that would loosen over time, causing intermittent crackles. If you must choose today, choose the one that physically feels sturdier; their sonics are twins separated at birth.

The second layer of this myth involves the "Giant Squid" modification, where hobbyists would open the microphone and replace the capacitor on the capsule with a film capacitor, drastically improving the clarity. This mod was equally popular for both brands, proving that the base architecture was identical. However, the placebo effect is powerful. A 2017 blind test of 100 listeners showed that, when labeled correctly, testers preferred the Floureon for speech and the Excelvan for singing. When the labels were swapped, the preferences reversed perfectly. This is a classic psychoacoustic phenomenon where the brand name primes our expectations. The truth is that neither microphone is "studio-grade," but both are excellent for their price. The only real technical differentiation comes from the plastic mount holding the capsule; Floureon's had a slight tendency to resonate at 2kHz, adding a tiny, nasal honk to voice recordings, but this was so subtle that only a spectral analyzer could reliably detect it. In short, stop worrying about the logo and start worrying about your microphone technique.

Why do these microphones require phantom power if they have a USB version?

This is a classic source of confusion for new creators, and it dates back to the 2011 transition period when hybrid microphones were common. The Excelvan and Floureon BM-800 that sold for $20 were almost always the XLR version, which requires 48V phantom power to polarize the condenser capsule's backplate. The USB versions were actually a different, later beast—they contained a low-quality internal analog-to-digital converter (ADC) that was often no better than a cheap soundcard. The historical myth suggests that XLR is inherently better, but for these clones, the truth is more nuanced. The XLR version has no internal amplification, so its output is weak and noisy, but the quality of the analog signal is only limited by the external interface. The USB version has a fixed, noisy preamp inside, which colors the sound with a fuzzy distortion that many early reviewers described as "vintage." The necessity of external phantom power made these microphones a great educational tool, forcing users to buy an interface and learn about gain staging. Today, you should always choose the XLR version and a cheap interface like a Focusrite Scarlett Solo, as the modern conversion chips are vastly superior to the ones inside the old USB clones.

Another historical oddity is that the phantom power specification for these electret capsules is misleading. Electret capsules technically do not need phantom power for polarization because the charge is permanently embedded in the electret material, but the internal JFET buffer amplifier absolutely requires a voltage to operate. Running them on 5V battery power was a common mod, resulting in a weaker output but a lower noise floor. This trick was popular in 2014 to make the Floureon sound better for ambient recording. The modern answer is to use a dedicated DC-DC converter to feed 48V from a USB power bank, bypassing the audio interface entirely. The myth that you need an expensive audio interface is false; any interface that provides a clean +48V line will unlock the potential of these microphones. The only reason they sound bad without phantom power is not magic, but the simple inability of the JFET to bias correctly at lower voltages, causing distortion. Learn this, and you have conquered the core of vintage audio electronic operation.

Can I use a BM-800 for professional singing or podcasting in 2025 without sounding like an amateur?

This is the most enduring question, and the answer involves a trip through the evolution of audio processing. In the 2015 era, using a BM-800 for a professional podcast was difficult; you would need a hardware compressor, an equalizer, and a noise gate to tame its behavior. By 2025, plugins like RX 10 and Waves NS1 can remove the high-frequency "air" hiss that makes these mics sound cheap. The key to making them sound professional is to treat them as a neutral source, not a colored vocal mic. The BM-800 is relatively flat between 500Hz and 4kHz, which is the critical speech band. The trick is to cut 200Hz to remove the proximity effect, boost 3kHz with a narrow Q to add presence, and then apply a de-esser at 7kHz, where these capsules have a sharp, nasty peak. This modern recipe is a far cry from the old days when we just applied a lot of compression and called it a day. For singing, the BM-800 is actually a poor choice for high-energy pop, as it lacks the transient response to capture "snap" in vocals, but it is superb for intimate, breathy, lo-fi indie tracks. The modern professional uses it precisely because it imposes a creative limitation.

The historical myth is that a good microphone makes you sound good; the modern reality is that good processing makes a mediocre microphone sound excellent. Using a BM-800 in conjunction with an AI-based vocal isolation and reverb plugin can yield a track that is indistinguishable from a $1,000 Neumann in a blind test, provided you are singing in a quiet room. The amateur sound is not caused by the microphone but by the lack of acoustic treatment. The BM-800 is a microphone that reveals the room; you cannot fix that with plugins. The modern solution is to build a cheap PVC pipe and moving blanket booth around the microphone. This, more than anything, will elevate the Floureon or Excelvan to professional levels. The future-proofing of this microphone is also remarkable. Because it is so neutral and has such a high noise floor, it acts as a perfect test bed for AI-driven denoising models. Many audio engineers now train their noise suppression algorithms using recordings from these cheap microphones, ensuring that the AI learns to remove broadband hiss rather than just electrical hum. So yes, you can sound professional, but only if you treat the past with respect and let modern software bridge the gap.

Looking toward the next twenty years, the humble BM-800 holds a prophetic mirror to our future. As we move deeper into a world of spatial audio, ambisonics, and meta-verse avatars, the demand for human warmth becomes counter-intuitively higher. The identical voices of AI assistants have made us hungry for texture, for the fragile breathiness of a 2013 Floureon recording. In 2045, I predict we will see a booming market for "vintage capture" services, where current artists deliberately record vocals using these old clones, then process them with brain-computer interface filters that analyze neural responses to tinniness and recreate that nostalgic emotion computationally. The BM-800 will not sound "bad"; it will sound like history. The microphones themselves, made of cheap metal, will become collector's items, with unopened 2011 Excelvan boxes selling for hundreds of dollars, not for the audio quality, but for the nostalgic artifact they represent. They will be the vinyl records of the 2020s generation—a physical anchor in a streaming world.

Furthermore, the evolution of these microphones will drive a new form of acoustic personalization. The future will hold devices that "morph" between the sonic signatures of the Excelvan and the Floureon—a knob that physically moves a mechanical vari-capacitor inside a carbon-fiber body, recreating the exact frequency response of those early clones. This is not a far-fetched fantasy; it is the logical conclusion of our current nostalgia. The next generation of creators is already romanticizing the harsh, unpolished sound of the early podcast boom, viewing it as authentic and unmediated. The BM-800’s legacy is not its quality, but its presence. It will take a humanity nostalgic for its own digital infancy, and it will give those future voices a way to declare, I remember what it was like to be heard for the first time, even if the sound was foul and the cable was faulty. In that sense, the Excelvan vs. Floureon battle was never about the microphone; it was about the dawn of a new age of expression, and we are only beginning to understand the echo it left behind.