The Boss DF-2 Super Feedbacker & Distortion is a punch in the face.
This is a tool for digging — and digging deep. Straight back to the early days of my musical life in Legnago.
That pedal, along with a small handful of other effects, came to us through Davide “Cavallo.” At the time, he had just left the original Timoria lineup due to creative differences. To us, he wasn’t an ex–musician. He was the guru. Period.
Davide didn’t suggest. He decided.
He told us what to listen to and what to ignore — no nuance, no appeal. And of course, we followed. It was the ’80s: pop everywhere, neon colors, glossy surfaces, forced smiles. Everything felt fake, overproduced. And he did something essential — he took us somewhere else.
British new wave.
Punk.
Real ’70s rock.
Electric blues.
In short, he put into our hands the music I would listen to — and still listen to — for the rest of my life. No nostalgia, no revisionism. A clear line drawn early, one I never truly left.
The DF-2 fit perfectly into that world.
It wasn’t a polite pedal. Dry, nervous distortion. Unforgiving. The kind of pedal many would dismiss today — probably not without reason. And then there was that Super Feedbacker button, promising something huge, even though we didn’t have the volume, or the venues, to make it happen. But that didn’t matter. It was a cultural gesture before it was a sonic one.
Davide played an Ibanez bass and a red SG — which, in our minds, automatically meant Gibson. That was enough to build the myth. Dark tone. Clear attitude. Zero compromise.
Then, like only real characters do, he disappeared.
Became a biker. Gone. No social media, no revival tours, no half-stories. Just a trail left behind: records, sounds, pedals passed from hand to hand — and a musical direction permanently imprinted.
Today, the DF-2 isn’t just a vintage pedal.
It’s a fragment of initiation. An object that carries a person, an era, a choice.
Cavallo became a legend. The pedal remained.
And some lessons, thankfully, never fade.
