Alright, kids. Gather ‘round the malfunctioning space heater. I’ve got something here that smells like melted transistors and teenage angst. It’s a box. A $250 box. And it’s called… Regrets – by the folks at Non-Human Audio.
Now, you might think that’s a bummer of a name for a gadget that’s supposed to make you sound like a beautiful, crying angel. And you’d be half-right. It is a bummer. It’s the bummer of missing the last train home. It’s the sound of a Polaroid developing in reverse. It’s the feeling of standing in the rain looking at a phone that isn’t going to ring.
The creator, some cat named Kelly, had the radical idea to name the pedal after what it felt like, not what it sounded like. Genius. Or lunacy. Usually the same thing. They say it’s got “nostalgic, longing sound.” Yeah. That’s one word for it. Another word is “existential dread with a sweet, sweet tail.”
Forget your standard “room” reverb. This ain’t a room. It’s a wrecking yard. It’s the inside of a cavern after the bats have all flown south for the winter. Short, lush, ambient, textured, whatever. The point is, it doesn’t just add space to your sound. It adds weight. It makes every note seem like it’s already over, like it’s looking back at you over its shoulder, smirking.
Since we’re talking about this tin can of emotional fallout, here’s what you’re twisting your greasy mitts around:
Decay Time – How long you want the ghost to hang around. Short makes it a cramped bathroom. Long makes it the Grand Canyon after a tearful goodbye.
Dampening – This is the sock in the throat. Turn it up and the reverb gets all muffled and polite, like it’s apologizing for existing. Turn it down and it rings like a bell that’s seen some things.
Mix – How much of your clean signal gets drowned in the murk. Dry is just you, naked and afraid. Wet is you submerged in six feet of bad decisions.
The “Other Tricks” – They don’t name ’em, because of course they don’t. But apparently, they muck with the feeling instead of just the sound. Voodoo. Mojo. Or maybe just bad soldering. Who knows? That’s the fun of it.
Don’t buy it unless you’re ready to stare into the abyss of your own mistakes and find a pretty good chord progression staring back. Open order. You might have to wait. Like, you know, for a feeling you can’t shake.
