In the beginning, there were tube amps.
They were heavy, they were moody, they glowed like campfires in dim rehearsal rooms. Everyone who owned one suffered chronic back pain but felt deeply spiritual about it. “Yes,” they said, sweat dripping, vertebrae weeping, “but listen to that breakup—it’s holy.”
Then came solid-state amps. They were lighter, cheaper, and disturbingly practical. Guitarists eyed them with suspicion, like someone trying to offer kale at a barbecue. “It’s… fine,” they said flatly, secretly missing the warm hum of glass bottles threatening to explode mid-solo. The solid-state revolution quietly fizzled. Only jazz players seemed unfazed—they didn’t need distortion anyway. Most guitarists insisted jazz players didn’t really count, since they spent half their gigs sitting down and the other half playing 74 chords per bar just to annoy drummers.
Then came digital modeling, and hope resurfaced. Early units promised to capture the soul of a raging tube head. Instead, they mostly sounded like underwater farts recorded on a flip phone. Some players pretended they liked it (“It’s the future, man”), while others sprinted back to their glowing, unreliable tube rigs, proudly declaring, “This hiss? That’s tone.”
But then—ah, then—Fractal Audio emerged from the algorithmic mist. The heavens opened, firmware updates rained down like blessings, and guitarists across the land declared, “Behold! The tone is reborn!”
Tube-like saturation, sag, warmth—it was all there, shimmering on a screen. You could store 512 amp models and still have room for your dentist’s contact info. The joy was indescribable.
Years went by. Firmware evolved. One day, in a small but miraculous act of curiosity, Fractal modeled solid-state amps.
And suddenly, the same players who once scorned those “cheap, lifeless boxes” were weeping with joy. “They nailed it!” they cried. “It sounds just like the real thing!”
Somewhere, in a dusty pawn shop, a humble transistor amp blinked its red LED and whispered, “I told you so.”