
A multi-effects powerhouse that serves session aces and free spirits.
Seemingly endless sounds on tap. Relatively streamlined functionality. Fun in spite of its complexity. Many authentic analog-style tones. Dual algorithm capacity.
Maximizing pedal potential takes homework. Some digital artifacts in some voices. Spendy.
$899
Eventide H90
eventide.com
Eventide’s Harmonizer family of products are a curiously named bunch. Most do, in fact, harmonize and produce related pitch effects. But Eventide’s new H90 Harmonizer, like its predecessor the H9, also does about a million other things very, very well. It’s a powerful multi-effect that, in its new incarnation, offers thousands of vintage and future sounds and generates rich textures and tone colors that can transform the germ of an idea into a foundation for composition, or something grander, quickly and with relative ease.
Brother to Legends
The H90’s architecture is rooted, to some extent, in that of the H9000 Harmonizer, an $8K, rack-mounted, ultra-deep studio instrument utilized to wildly varied effect by producers, film score composers, and deep-pocketed sound experimentalists. The notion of a compact derivative of the H9000, even with a fraction of the functionality, at a little more than a tenth of the price, is appealing for obvious reasons. But the H90 is impressive outside of comparisons to the H9000. It’s very practical— particularly if you work sessions, multiple bands or gigs, or create and produce music on the move. Its footprint isn’t much larger than its predecessor, the H9. And, if you consider its size relative to its capabilities, there is little that even space-obsessed pedal heads can complain about.
If you’re the impatient sort, or just like to chance upon sounds, you can dive headlong and blind into the H90’s world of sound and get cool results. The excellent factory presets make intuitive voyaging a lot of fun. And the streamlined control set makes transformative tweaks easy. That said, you can get in the weeds pretty quickly if you choose to forego a read of the manual or quick start guide. The H90 does a lot. And if you intend to unlock even a fraction of its capabilities you should plan on some homework.
The H90 features 10 new algorithms. Some are familiar effects, like the SP2016 plate reverb emulation, a TS-style overdrive called the “weedwacker,” and an emulation of the old Eventide PS101 phaser. Other vintage flavored algorithms include a multi-head delay and Uni-Vibe emulations. More “modern” sounds come via a polyphony algorithm that enables harmonization in specific intervals, and a “wormhole” algorithm that creates the kind of spacious, pitch-modulated reverb washes you associate with CGI animations about the vastness of the cosmos.
Perhaps the most significant enhancement in the H90 is the capacity to use two algorithms in series or in parallel and shape them independently. This capability, along with the streamlined, well-considered parameter controls for each algorithm, exponentially stretch the depth and potential of factory presets and the ones you’ll make on your own. Routing and connectivity options are impressive, too. Dual routing means you can set up two independent stereo paths utilizing two different algorithms. There are also MIDI in and out jacks, two inputs for expression pedals or auxiliary switches, and a USB-C port for use with the Eventide H90 Control app.
Harmony of the Spheres—And Many Other Shapes
Listing the sounds the H90 makes would take a review many times the length of this one. And that would only scratch the surface. But it’s easy to see why so many musicians that have to cover a lot of bases found the H90’s predecessor, the H9, so appealing and valuable. Because once you get your presets dialed in, you can switch readily between familiar vintage sounds and completely alien ones.
As anyone that has used an H9, Space, or TimeFactor can tell you, modern Eventide effects tend to be deep, expansive, and capable of very rich sounds. But the twin algorithm capabilities often create a perceptible extra layer of intricacy that, when dialed in carefully, generates intriguing lattices of sound that can be subtle or strange.
”For a lot of players, the H90’s price tag, which is roughly the same as a high-quality affordable guitar or amp, will be worth every penny.“
Sometimes the dual algorithms can produce familiar tones. The “hey floyd” program, heard in the accompanying audio clip 1 combines the weedwacker and “spacetime” programs’ “outer limits” preset to create a pretty convincing take on David Gilmour's Big Muff and Electric Mistress tones circa The Wall. In the “fuzzy old bits” program (clip 2), a vintage rack delay model and spring reverb emulation combine to create a combination of ’80s dotted-eighth delay and ’60s surf ‘n’ psych ambience.
The complexity in dual program settings doesn’t necessarily mean they are a washy mess. Combining harmonic modulation with a modulated echo and reverb lends weird animation and movement from odd harmonizing overtones in the “gentle arps” setting (clip 3). “Floating in Space” (clip 4) demonstrates the intricate but clear wash you can create by using two blackhole algorithms at different settings. “Dream Sequence” (clip 5) probes the more ethereal capabilities of the H90, combining emulations of the old Eventide H910 and the spacetime algorithm.
The Verdict
At about 900 bucks, the H90 is a high-ticket piece of kit. If you’re strictly a guitarist, your tastes include unconventional styles, and you have a very open mind, the H90 can transform what you play, guide you along unexpected creative vectors, and extract you from a rut in a flash. It also gives you access to a vast library of familiar sounds And for a lot of players, the H90’s price tag, which is roughly the same as a high-quality affordable guitar or amp, will be worth every penny. Multi-instrumentalists are likely to get even more out of the investment.
Whether you want to invest the time in digging deep into the H90’s considerable powers so that you can justify the price tag is another matter. The H90 is intuitive enough that it takes just minutes with the unit to yield buried treasure. But this is also the kind of pedal that can chew up hours of studio time if you’re not careful. A little focus and discipline—and a concerted investigation of the manual—can go a long way toward making freer, more intuitive exploration possible down the line. And unless you’re really averse to digital interfaces, there’s little cause to be intimidated by the H90’s deep capabilities. With practice, programming your own very individual presets becomes a satisfying, creative endeavor, and you’re likely to make a lot of amazing sound discoveries along the way.
Join PG contributor Tom Butwin as he explores how this simple, yet essential, device can save your instrument from catastrophic damage. Discover the peace of mind provided by the Atlas C1.
The author’s well-loved Freeze pedals. The original raw-metal chassis seen here has been replaced with a white finish on later editions.
How this simple sustain stomp helped me bring one of my favorite David Lynch scenes to life and took me across oceans.
There’s a scene in David Lynch’sMulholland Drivewhere Naomi Watts and Laura Harring’s characters find themselves in a darkened, mostly empty theater. Against a backdrop of spooky, synthy chords, they breathlessly watch the night’s oddball emcee deliver an intense, cryptic soliloquy on recorded sound. A trumpet player slowly walks onto the stage, the two characters clutching each other. They—and you—get fully drawn into his muted, jazzy lines. Suddenly, he pulls his instrument away from the mic, throwing his hands in the air. But the solo continues. The narrator looks to the audience: “It’s all recorded.”
Like the best Lynch moments, it’s a thoroughly dramatic moment that needs to be experienced with all applicable senses. Words alone won’t do. This scene is meant to stick with you.
I had that scene in mind as I first plugged into an Electro-Harmonix Freeze. I wanted to play a note and have it keep going … and going … until the audience would see that those notes were just lingering in the air, my strings no longer vibrating, unsure what the effect is. The Freeze could do just that.
“This wasn’t some new iteration of some other effect—a crazy fuzz or a weird flanger. This was a new category.”
If you’ve never played one, the Freeze elegantly holds whatever you give it—a note, a chord, a pick scrape, or whatever else. For such an obvious effect to come out when it did felt so refreshingly groundbreaking. It represented new possibilities. This wasn’t some new iteration of some other effect—a crazy fuzz or a weird flanger. This was a new category.
There had already been ways to fake drones and sustained notes with loopers and delay pedals, but those inevitably had their quirks that ruined the illusion. David Cockerell, the designer of the Freeze, explains that loopers capture short bits of sound, apply an amplitude envelope, and play it back repeatedly. This can work to make sustained notes if the passage includes a whole number of cycles of the sound's fundamental pitch, but in most cases, you’ll hear a click when it repeats.
Back in the ’70s, the EHX team had worked on the idea for a sustain pedal. “At that time, the best I could do was intelligent-splice-single-cycle-looping,” recalls Cockerell. “This looked for a waveform match in the same way that guitar tuning meters do, and then endlessly played one cycle. It worked reasonably well for saxophone or other instruments with strictly harmonic overtones, but it was hopeless for guitar.”
”The pedal only requires one knob for volume, one toggle for latching or fast/slow swell modes, and a footswitch.”
Fast-forward to the early ’00s when DSP chips became available that could reproduce more complex sounds and overtones. While he was working on the EHX Hog with John Pisani, the company’s current-day chief engineer, the idea for a sustain pedal reared its head once again. Cockerell used an algorithm with a special provision that avoids freezing on a pluck transient, thus eliminating the risk of that pesky click. And the Freeze was born.
Released in 2010, the Freeze has a simple beauty. The pedal only requires one knob for volume, one toggle for latching or fast/slow swell modes, and a footswitch. Within, there’s such a wide range of subtlety: How you hit the pedal after your attack greatly affects the response. With the level setting, you can create subtle drones, much like an electronic shruti box, meant to subtly fill space. Or you can set it more obviously as you change chords, freeing up your hands. At higher volume settings in fast momentary mode, you can create glitchy stutter effects. And the way it interacts with other pedals opens up entirely new worlds.
I threw myself into the pedal not long after it hit the market, learning its nuances and eventually buying a second one to create a stereo effect. With my retuned 12-string Strat, I blasted my amps with drones, blowing a few speakers with abandon. Soon, the Freeze changed my approach to the guitar, and I released a series of solo drone and noise albums that took me across the U.S. and Europe. When I recognized Bill Frisell using one during a solo set, I’d bonded with the pedal so much that it was like a friend was sitting in with my favorite guitar player.
“I blasted my amps with drones, blowing a few speakers with abandon.”
There are plenty of pedals that have followed, adding more functionality. EHX’s Pico Deep Freeze, most obviously, but also the Gamechanger Plus, TC Electronic Infinite Sample, and the Chase Bliss Onward—enough that guitar sustain pedals have become their own class of effect. As fabulous as those pedals are, I still cherish the simplicity of the Freeze, a rare thing that leaves all the creative decisions on our side of the pedalboard.
PG's host straps on a prototype Tele to unleash the Knife Drop's horror and heft only to dismantle Jack White's Triplecaster in one accidental Bigsby bomb.
Two horns? It must be a Bison!
Our columnist links a few memories together to lead us to another obscure guitar model—one he remembers from his childhood and came to acquire as an adult.
Do you have any “click and stick” movies that you love? Like when you are channel surfing and see a movie that you’ve watched a lot, and then just watch it again? Lately, for me, it’s been the 2015 movie The Revenant. It’s a truly brutal tale of survival set in 1820s frontier America. My gosh, that movie just draws me in every time. There’s one scene where the main character goes flying off a cliff while riding a horse! He just sort of falls/rolls through a pine tree and lands in the snow … and he still survives! It’s crazy!
It makes me think about an old childhood friend who lived up the street from me. Jerry and his parents lived in an old house on their grandparents’ large plot of land. On one part of the land there was an old orchard filled with all types of fruit trees and pines, and I remember how we would climb to the top of the pines and just roll ourselves down the side, Revenant style! If you fell the right way, the branches would kind of gently let you down to the next, but if you hit it wrong and got in between the branches, you’d be wrecked. It’s like we enjoyed getting hurt, and, of course, when you’re young, you can snap right back. Ah, the days when pain really didn’t hurt. Now I wake up with injuries, for real.
“The action was way high and the fret ends were sharp. It was basically a painful affair.”
So why am I talking about my click-and-stick movie and stupid childhood escapades? Well, let’s get back to memories of my old friend Jerry. First, the house he lived in was so old that it had real wooden siding, but it hadn’t been painted in forever so the exterior took on a worn, faded, haunted house vibe. Second, his carpet was so tattered that it was being held together with duct tape. Lastly, I remember his dad had a cool, old electric guitar in the living room. His dad would let me play it sometimes, and I remember that it actually hurt to play! The action was way high and the fret ends were sharp. It was basically a painful affair. Not falling-out-of-a-tree painful, but as bad as it comes with guitars. It had the label “Conrad,” and young Frank didn’t realize that he’d be looking for that guitar again one day. I mean, it did have four pickups and lots of knobs and switches!
Made at the old Japanese Matsumoko factory in the ’60s, this Conrad Bison 1233 has four pickups and a 27" scale.
Years later, I would discover that his was a Conrad Bison guitar. The model came in a few different configurations, but the four-pickup design was designated as the 1233. Primarily featuring a lovely sunburst, these Bisons were made at the amazing old Matsumoku factory in Japan and were imported by the David Wexler Company that was based in Chicago. Matsumoku always had a good supply of aged wood, and many of the guitars made there are resonant and built well. The Bisons first appeared around 1966 and had a rather good run into the early ’70s.
Simple volume/tone knobs are paired with preset solo/rhythm switches that power alnico magnets. There’s an on/off switch for each pickup, and the sound really covers all the bases. Thumpy lows and crisp highs are all there. And, the pickups handle fuzz and distortion with ease. The Bisons also came in one- and two-pickup configurations with a normal scale, but the four-pickup ones have a longer, 27" scale, which is common for Matsumoku-made electrics.
So there it is: pain, survival, American frontier, Bison, haunted houses. It all sticks together like a duct-taped carpet. Click and stick, baby!