I can’t recall a period in the world of bass stuff when trendiness has been such a potent drain on our wallets. The smoldering cauldron of social media, YouTube, democratized tech, and stylistically schizophrenic music — along with the vast proliferation of virtual venues for kinship with like-minded enthusiasts — was already transforming the way we discover, discuss, lust after, and maybe even buy bass stuff. Then the pandemic came along and was a massive accelerant. All of that time at home, bored out of our skulls, that sweet-sweet stimulus money coyly winking at us from our banking app, flirty like: “Pay rent? Pfft, you can figure that out later, babe! Take me out! I heard Facebook Marketplace is lovely this time of year.” Or: “You only live once, so let’s go to Reverb! Besides, you’ll definitely get more gigs with the pedals you buy, so, really, it’s almost like you’re making money!”  

It’s hard to know what’s actually good, though, and I haven’t even mentioned paid “influencers,” deep-fakes, AI-written copy, and other harbingers of the looming apocalypse. Why do I bring this up, other than making public amends for some of my questionable late-2020 spending? Because the Jad Freer Audio gear I’m reviewing here is quintessentially on-trend.

Take the Capo. It’s fourpreamps in a stompbox, with effect loops, multiple balanced outputs, and EQ up the wazoo; it’s designed to do everything from crispy zing to brash grind. And why is that trendy? Well, in case you haven’t noticed, we are in a golden age of what I call “Stuff That Used To Be Built Into An Amp That’s Cooler When It’s Expensive and Lives On Your Pedalboard.” Lest you think today’s trends are all-about packing maximal tech into minimal packages, then I present the Sisma, a remarkably dense head that takes a different approach. Where the Capo is a Swiss Army Knife — the fat one that has a fish scaler and a pharmaceutical spatula — the Sisma is like a hand-forged blade by 9th-generation Old World artisans. It’s minimalist, brutal, design-forward, dangerously effective, and doesn’t go dull when the shit hits the fan. It’s also expensive and shockingly good, like that new $6-latte place that opened in what used to be the scary part of town.

So, trends aside, are the Jad Freer Audio Capo and Sisma genuinely musical tools that accomplish their design goals, or are they from the Elizabeth Holmes school of overpromising and underdelivering? My not-paid-for verdict: They are good. More than good. In fact, they are some of the best bits of bass gear that I’ve played through in a good long while.

Before I explain why, a quick intro to Jad Freer Audio is in order. Founders Mauro Freddi and Giada Pezzi have been designing and manufacturing gear from their shop in Brescia, Italy, since 2008. Prioritizing durability, technical innovation, and boutique hand-built products, Jad Freer Audio aims to fill underserved niches in the marketplace, in close collaboration with artists. While their lineup initially focused on guitar products, they’ve successfully expanded into the bass world with the two products reviewed here, as well as the all-tube Volta amp, Coda power amp, and a line of cabinets. Just look at a few of the artists who not only use Jad Freer’s stuff but have helped them refine it: Tim Lefevbre, Sean Hurley, Kevin Scott, Logan Kane — elite working pros who know a thing or two about tone.

Capo

The Capo does so much that it’s hard to find a one-word catch-all description. It’s essentially a preamp, meaning it buffers an incoming instrument-level signal and boosts it to line level. But that’s not what makes it an unusually intriguing device. First, the Capo is really four independent preamps that are blendable in an intriguing variety of ways. It’s organized into an a side and b side, and the two footswitches control which one is active; both sides can be used simultaneously or not at all. In the latter case, the Capo simply behaves like a clean buffer, rendering the controls inoperable. The Capo also offers a 3-band EQ (with a semi-parametric midrange), bass-and-treble-boosting deep and bright switches, two balanced XLR outputs (one bypasses the Capo’s gain stages for a clean sound while the other is post-preamp), a pair of send and return loops that enable a host of routing possibilities, a switchable lowpass filter, and a variety of controls for gain-staging and timbre. You see why it’s hard to summarize this thing?

Before I even plugged it in, the most immediately impressive thing about the Capo was just how much stuff has been fit into a medium-size stompbox chassis. But it isn’t just that Jad Freer shoehorned in all these features. It’s the way it’s done: the intelligence of the layout, the clear concern for user experience, the bright and clear labeling, the different-colored LEDs for the a and b side switches, the position of the jacks, and the components’ obvious high quality. Yes, with so much on tap there is a significant learning curve to wringing the most out of the Capo, but this is more a product of the feature set than a design flaw.

At the heart of the Capo, underneath all the I/O and routing madness, lies the pedal’s main value prop: four uniquely voiced preamps. In short, the a side hosts three of them, leaving b to fill out the final option. Within the a side is a fixed-gain clean preamp and two saturator preamps, designed to add everything from subtle color to full-on distortion. The blend control is how you adjust the ratio of the clean preamp to one (or both) of the saturated circuits. It’s also responsible for one of the few criticisms I have of the Capo: For such an important feature, the blend knob is too small and feels too fragile. I appreciate that compromises must be made with a small footprint, but I do wish Jad Freer had found a way to add one more large knob akin to many of the other controls. To choose the saturated circuit in use, there is a continuously variable style control, which enables a “J” voice, an “F” voice, or a blend between the two. The Capo gets its dirty sounds from pure preamp saturation, not clipping diodes, so the gain control has a major impact on the distortion’s timbre and intensity. So, with the blend, gain, and selectable distortion voices, the A side offers a phenomenal array of tones … and that’s before you touch the 3-band EQ or deep and brightswitches. The B side is another saturated circuit, designed to emulate the sound of an overdriven amp. It offers a simpler array of controls (just gain and level) and is usable on its own — but being able to cascade it with the a side, putting either one first in the signal chain, is what extracts even more tones and utility from the pedal. One example: If you turn the level of the B side all the way off, then its footswitch becomes a de facto mute control. It’s just one of the many ways that the Capo’s extreme routing flexibility and I/O reward intrepid players in “off-label” ways.

Space (and scope) limitations here mean I’m not going to regurgitate the owner’s manual. If you want to get a robust breakdown of the Capo’s many features, head to their website. Instead, let’s get to the point: How does it sound? I’ve been using the Capo as an integral part of my pedalboard for a few months on dozens of gigs and a handful of sessions, and I’ve found that the Capo is a phenomenal piece of gear, especially for those seeking harmonically rich, saturated sounds. I don’t just mean players who love distortion (although it’s great at that); rather, the Capo is able to subtly color tone in ways that make it more lively, rich, and interesting. It can do superb clean sounds, but its unique value is in its multi-faceted saturation circuits, all of which have amp-like dynamic sensitivity and “touch.” The J circuit has big lows and forward highs — sort of a “scooped” vibe — while F is much more midrange focused. I’m drawn most, however, to the 50/50 blended sound found in the N position of the style knob. It captures the best of both worlds, offering a full-spectrum grit that is super-responsive to the position of the gain knob, like a tube amp. All that would be plenty, but there’s the B side, too. It has a very tube-y character, somewhat like an old Fender Bassman pushed hard. This is a killing tone on its own, but considering that you can place it before or after what’s happening in the A side, all manner of new flavors emerge.

The EQ is musical, sweet, and well voiced. I especially appreciate the semi-parametric mid, which has proven invaluable to carve out some ugly resonances in a few rooms I’ve played recently. I also dig the deep and bite switches. Both seem perfectly voiced to do what you intuitively think they’re going to do: add quick heft to the lows or a bit of extra push to the highs.

Perhaps overly long story short: If you have the money (it ain’t cheap at about $600) and want an intelligently designed, durably built, outrageously flexible device that prioritizes musically useful, professional tone and harmonic richness above all else, the Capo is essentially unrivaled. 

Sisma

Writing bass product reviews is labor intensive. After many years in the trenches, I’ve found that amps are hard to review, pedals and most effects are easy, and basses are sort of in-between. The reason is that an amp is a complex synthesis of complementary technologies, while pedals tend to do one thing, offering only the controls necessary to do that thing. And basses … well, they’re just some wood, a couple of magnets, and bits of metal to keep the strings attached and in tune. I mention this because this review is a clear exception: The Capo is much more complicated than the Sisma, and that isn’t just to my benefit as a writer, but is in keeping with the amp’s design philosophy. With the Sisma, Jad Freer Audio has accomplished something that I’m always after but have found in only a handful of heads (I’m looking at you, Aguilar DB 750): a fat, rich, and warm tube preamp coupled with a hugely powerful power amp and just enough EQ to get the job done without fuss.

With the Sisma, Jad Freer wanted an amp that captures the lush and creamy character of an Ampeg B-15, but mated to a modern power amp with enough thrust to fill any stage. In what I’m learning is typical Jad Freer ingenuity, they’ve accomplished this goal through clever engineering, an attention to design detail, and an obvious roster of big-eared advisers. The tech behind the magical Sisma is intriguing. A proprietary switchmode power supply (that alone signifies engineering chops) provides the juice, including a legit 200 volts to the single 12AX7 tube. No token buffer, the 12AX7 handles the input gain stage and drives the 2-band Baxandall EQ. Of further interest is the Class G power amp. Unlike the vastly more common Class AB topology, Class G amps essentially offer two power supplies (they’re actual “rails,” but bear with me). When a loud transient or other big signal exceeds the first supply’s capacity, the second, higher-power supply kicks in, scaling up as necessary to accommodate demand. The advantage of this is increased efficiency, which is a precious commodity in amp design.

To the above-mentioned Baxandall EQ, the Sisma adds a slightly more modern touch: two semi-parametric bands that together cover frequencies from 40Hz to 5kHz, or in layman’s terms, all the good stuff. Additional tone-altering features are the deep button, which adds a subtle low-frequency bump, and a switchable lowpass filter for taming unwanted fizziness. The I/O is simple but complete. There’s an aux jack on tap, effects send and return, a DI with ground-lift and pad, a pair of Speakon combo jacks (the mother of all speaker jacks), a line out, and a superb headphone output. Everything feels good and high quality, and the form-factor is just right for carrying in a shoulder bag. Plus, at just 8.5 pounds, that isn’t just a fantasy. Jad Freer also clearly put a lot of thought into cooling and reliability, with a custom heat-dissipation system involving two fans mounted on opposing sides, and a commitment not to use cheap jellybean parts where more durable options exist. In fact, you can see the thoughtfulness of the design in several ways, from the pots’ smooth, pitch-perfect resistance to the massive confidence-inspiring power switch. It’s this attention to detail, in fact, that make the amp’s few design missteps a little surprising — chiefly, the size of the mute, lpf, and deep switches and their accompanying indicator LEDs. A few times I found myself stupefied as to why I was getting no sound, only to realize that I’d failed to notice the tiny, dim red LED that indicates that the amp is muted.

The promise of a B-15 with ungodly power is borderline Holy Grail territory, and happily, the Sisma gets as close as any head I’ve heard. Much like the Capo, the Sisma is dynamically sensitive like a proper tube amp. Subtle changes to the gain knob have immediately notable impact on the amp’s texture, tone, and feel. Especially impressive is the smooth, linear way it moves from clean into saturation. The logarithmic master pot’s entire range is usable, enabling precise volume adjustments throughout its travel. In practice, on many a gig, the Sisma proved to be one of the most impressive new amp designs I’ve ever encountered. First, it offers seemingly limitless headroom and honest, clean volume. Second, it delivers this with beguiling tone, personality, and character. If you prefer a dry, “straight-wire-with-gain” sound, then it may not be the right amp for you. That isn’t to say it doesn’t do clean sound well, it’s just that even its cleanest tone is still a bit thick and saucy. I absolutely adored it, personally. The Sisma would have been a winner on that alone, but then its capacity for grit and saturation emerges as you push the preamp ever harder with the gain control, and you realize its simple design belies a deep well of possibilities.

My long association with bass gear has made many folks curious about what I use personally. I’m usually happy to share, with the requisite caveat that this music thing is not a one-size-fits-all endeavor. That said, it’s rare when a new manufacturer enters the scene and quickly competes with long-cherished stalwarts on my personal gear list. The Jad Freer stuff is that good, though. With a Sisma over my shoulder and a Capo on my board, I’d feel well prepared for anything my musical life might throw at me.

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