An amp,
not an
app.
One blackface amp modeled deep, a board of pedals at your feet, a Telecaster on the bench, and a tape that never stops rolling — so you print the good part after you play it, not before.
One amp, modeled deep.
Not a menu of amps — a '65 blackface Deluxe with the real AB763 tone network, component values and interactions and all. Past 5 the power section starts to give: supply sag, then push-pull grit. That push is the amp, not a pedal. There's no mid knob because the Deluxe never had one, and the loaded mid scoop is the sound.
The board teaches what pedals actually do. Fuzz into compressor is a different animal than compressor into fuzz — the order is part of the sound, and you learn it by dragging tiles. If a pedal here makes you go read about spring reverbs and buy a real tank, the pedal worked.
And it grows: a new pedal lands every month at $4.99 — a place or an object rendered as DSP and a faceplate, bought once, on the shelf forever. The baseline board is complete on its own; nobody buys D–65 and finds a demo.
“The tape is always rolling — so you print the good part after you play it, not before.”
— the D–65 field manual
In the spirit of '65
The blackface Deluxe is the most recorded amp in history for a reason, and the Telecaster bolted the neck on. D–65 keeps that heritage honest — then hands you a board the hardware never had room for.
- The real AB763 tone network — component values, interactions and all
- No mid knob: the Deluxe never had one, and the scoop is the sound
- Spring reverb with a DWELL that drives the tank; bias tremolo ahead of the clip
- Skirted knobs, the jewel lamp — and a Telecaster on the bench
- A board of classic-lineage pedals you reorder by drag
- A tape that never stops rolling, so you print the good part after
- Speaker captures plus your own impulse responses
- A new pedal every month — bought once, on the shelf forever
Not a re-creation — a continuation. If you love the hardware, you'll feel at home here; learn here, and the hardware will feel like home too.
Plug in. Stomp. Strum. Print.
The board
The bench
The tape
The whole manual ships inside the app — the folded sheet in the amp's tolex pocket. Tap the wordmark.
Guitar to take, one cable
- PLUG INGuitar into the interface, interface into the phone. The green bar means signal at the jack. No interface? The bench Telecaster is one tap away.
- SET THE AMPDial the strip. Volume past 5 is where the amp gives; the bright cap fades as you climb, exactly like the hardware.
- BUILD THE BOARDBring pedals down off the shelf, drag them into order, stomp the strip below the hairline.
- PLAY~12 ms jack to ear. The jewel catches your signal and breathes with the playing.
- PRINTThe good part is already on the tape. Trim it, print it — the WAV lands in Takes with the rig that made it.
New gear every month. Take only what moves you.
The board you buy is finished: amp, compressor, overdrive, fuzz, chorus, delay and the looper. That's the $9.99, and it never changes. Nobody buys D–65 and finds a demo.
Then, once a month, something new lands on the shelf — $4.99, à la carte, yours the moment you take it. Skip three and take the fourth. It isn't a subscription and there's nothing to miss; a pedal you didn't buy in March is still there in December. The pedals are where the cadence starts — as the shop can keep up, the other instruments get drops of their own: kits for the sampler, patch banks for the synth, reels for the deck.
These are the strange ones — the boxes you'd never drop three hundred dollars on just to find out. A quartz gate built from a 1969 Tokyo chronograph. A mineral spring that holds you under and vents a geyser when you let go. Forty kilometers of camel-stride tremolo across a stereo desert. Five dollars to find out whether a strange idea is your new sound.
And none of it is only for guitar. Run a vocal through the fuzz, a synth pad through the springs, a drum loop through the chronograph — D–65 is an effects rack that happens to have a great amp in it. Every pedal is drawn to the same standard as the faceplate: real knobs, real lettering, a lamp that means something. A pedal should be worth looking at while you use it.
A quartz gate from the Tokyo chronograph, 1969. The week is the pattern — lit days pass signal, dark days close the gate, quartz-steady.
The Jacumba soak — mineral water at 95°F. Press the water and it holds you under; let go and the spring vents a geyser. It trails through bypass.
Forty kilometers a day. Pace is the camel's stride, sway leans the stereo field, mirage is the oud's twin string rising to full heat-haze.
A place or an object, rendered as DSP and a faceplate. If one sends you off to buy the real thing, it worked. The calendar grows with the shop.
The point isn't the pedal — it's that five dollars buys you a new idea, and the exploration is worth more than the price.
The kit's tone section
The deck's crate key sends a take straight to the tape machine — it lands on T–6's FROM D–65 shelf before you get there.
On T–6's patchbay the two input channels each run through their own D–65 — guitar on one strip, vocal on another, never smeared together.
Rigs and takes file onto the library; L–1 hands a rig back to the amp that made it, on any device.
One new pedal a month, $4.99, à la carte and permanent. The drops point outward — deeper into pedals and real gear, never instead of them.
Also an Audio Unit — aufx · d65f — the board and head in the plugin window, factory rigs included.
$9.99. Bought once, yours for good.
The amp and the full board — compressor, overdrive, fuzz, chorus, delay, looper — complete on its own. $9.99 on the App Store covers iPhone and iPad; the Mac app and AUv3 are $29.99, or $79 for the whole Rack. What you pay builds the next machine.
$9.99 at release. Free to test right now — leave your email and we'll send you a build.
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