Ce-2 Analysis — Boss

Leo stared at it. He was a forensic audio analyst for a copyright enforcement firm, not a vintage pedal historian. But his boss, a woman named Kara who ran their small team like a ship’s captain, had a strict rule: you don’t question the subject line. You just write the story the data tells.

Leo wrote his report. He didn’t use poetic language. He wrote: “The audio artifact labeled Exhibit_7 exhibits subharmonic clock noise at 15.4 kHz, a non-linear modulation asymmetry of 0.7 degrees, and a voltage sag envelope consistent with a Boss CE-2 operating on a partially depleted 9V alkaline battery. Probability of false positive: 0.3%.”

Leo isolated the left channel. He looked for the telltale clock noise—a faint, high-frequency whine around 15-16 kHz, the ghost of the BBD’s sampling rate. There it was. A faint, shimmering line that no digital chorus ever replicated because digital was too clean. He then checked the modulation curve. The CE-2’s LFO wasn’t a perfect sine wave; it had a slight, lazy asymmetry, a drift toward the negative voltage as the old capacitors struggled to keep up. On the spectrogram, it looked like a crooked smile. boss ce-2 analysis

He cross-referenced with the album’s master tape log from 1981, digitized last year from a storage locker in New Jersey. The engineer’s notes, scrawled in pencil, read: “GTR solo – Boss CE-2 (SN 1200xx), 9V battery dying, gives it that warble. Keep.”

He hit send. Subject: Re: Boss CE-2 Analysis. Leo stared at it

Leo’s job was to prove or disprove the chain of custody. Was the chorus on that album from a Boss CE-2, as the plaintiff claimed, or was it a studio trick—a Roland JC-120 amp’s built-in chorus, or even a later digital emulation?

He attached the spectrograms, the BBD chip analysis, and the scanned engineer’s note. Then, as a personal touch—something Kara had taught him—he added a single line at the bottom: You just write the story the data tells

He was holding it.