Valeton GP50 – an improvement or unprovement?

Last year, Valeton released the GP5 and, although there was  a little buzz around it when it first released, it turned into one of the most interesting budget pedals of the year. Not because it did loads of new and innovative things, but because it brought amp profiling technology to a genuinely affordable price point.

Fast forward a little and Valeton are back with the GP50. At first glance, it looks like a fairly minor update – almost too minor to justify a whole new product. After spending some proper time with it though, it becomes very clear why this version exists, and for some players, it’s going to matter more than they might expect.

A Quick Recap: Why the GP5 Mattered

At the heart of the GP50 is the same core concept that made the GP5 such a success: Neural Amp Modeling. NAM is often compared to Kemper-style profiling, and while that comparison holds up in principle, the real story is that NAM is open-source and community-driven.

That means a constantly expanding pool of amp captures – everything from clean combos to fully driven rigs – shared freely by users who are actively pushing the technology forward. For players who’ve been curious about profiling but put off by price, complexity, or commitment, this is an incredibly accessible entry point.

Like the GP5, the GP50 converts NAM files into Valeton’s own Snap Tone format. You’ll see people online argue about fidelity loss, but in practical terms, the experience is the same: load profiles, play guitar, enjoy convincing amp tones that respond properly to dynamics and picking.

The Not-So-Secret Limitation of the GP5

The GP5 proved the idea worked, but it also revealed its own limitations pretty quickly. The biggest one was obvious: a single footswitch.

In a bedroom or studio, that’s manageable. On a rehearsal floor or stage, it becomes awkward. Scrolling in one direction through patches, choosing between a tuner or effect switching, and having to bend down if you overshoot a sound all start to feel like unnecessary friction.

You could solve this with external MIDI controllers, but that slightly defeats the purpose of having a compact, affordable all-in-one unit.

The GP50 exists because of that problem.

Enter the GP50: Same Brain, Better Body

Rather than chasing higher processing power or more features, Valeton focused on usability. The addition of a second footswitch might sound minor, but it fundamentally changes how the unit feels to play.

Patch navigation instantly becomes more intuitive. Effect switching becomes genuinely practical. You can set up a base tone and then build variations around it without feeling boxed in. Suddenly, the GP platform feels far more at home in live situations without needing additional hardware.

There’s also a dedicated tuner access now, which removes the annoying trade-off GP5 users had to make. It’s one of those changes you barely notice once it’s there – and immediately miss when it isn’t.

Small Changes That Make a Big Difference

The GP50 also includes an internal battery, which won’t matter to everyone, but makes a lot of sense for travel, casual practice, or even avoiding noisy household power. It’s not a headline feature, but it’s thoughtful.

There’s a built-in looper too. Personally, loopers aren’t something I reach for often, but for quick jams or sketching ideas, it’s a useful inclusion rather than a gimmick. It’s short, simple, and exactly what you’d expect at this size and price.

Crucially, Valeton have also left plenty of room to grow. Dedicated expression and footswitch inputs mean the GP50 can expand with your setup rather than boxing you into a fixed workflow.

So… Is It Worth Upgrading?

If you already own a GP5 and you’ve built a setup around it – especially if you’re using MIDI control – the GP50 isn’t a mandatory upgrade. The core tones are the same, and the sound quality hasn’t changed.

If you don’t own either yet, the GP50 is the one to buy. It feels like the version Valeton would have released in the first place if they’d known how popular and capable the platform was going to be.

For the relatively small jump in price, you get a unit that’s simply easier to live with, easier to use, and far better suited to real-world playing.

What's really up

The GP5 was a proof of concept.

The GP50 is from concept to actual usable tool.

Valeton didn’t chase hype here – they listened, refined, and improved the experience where it mattered most. If affordable profiling is something you’re curious about, the GP50 makes a strong case for itself without pretending to be something it isn’t.

And honestly? That’s exactly why it works.

A trip down plastic-covered memory lane...

Today we’re taking a nostalgic step back with the Behringer TO100 Tube Overdrive, a pedal that, for better or worse, was the gateway drug into the world of effects for me at very least.

My own first foray into pedals came courtesy of Behringer’s gloriously affordable plastic boxes. I was in a band at the time, and the other guitarist had a Boss BCB-60 absolutely chock full of Boss pedals. Naturally, I wanted to follow suit. The only problem was that he was deep into his apprenticeship years and pulling in actual money, while I was a skint student. A board full of Boss pedals was pure fantasy, but scraping together enough cash for a few £15 plastic alternatives? That I could manage.

One of the very first pedals in that budget collection was the Tube Overdrive. And I’ll be honest — when I first plugged it in, I wasn’t impressed. My teenage idea of good tone was simple: more gain, everything on maximum. How could less possibly be more? More is more (Yngwie, is that you?). Even with the gain dimed, the Tube Overdrive just wasn’t enough for my under-developed ears. I was, of course, completely wrong.

Fast forward a good few years, and it’s worth revisiting this pedal with a much more experienced — and slightly more sensible — set of ears.

The general consensus is that the TO100 is heavily “inspired” by the Ibanez TS9, and it behaves exactly as you’d expect from a Tube Screamer-style circuit. It’s a single-coil player’s best friend, filling out that naturally scooped midrange and adding a lovely sense of weight and chonk to the tone. It also excels at the classic Screamer job of pushing an already driven amp, tightening up the low end and adding a bit of grit and growl to a cooking sound.

Of course, the big complaint that oh so many had was about the plastic enclosure. To keep costs as low as possible, Behringer opted for plastic rather than metal, and at the time the internet was full of horror stories about switches collapsing under a heavy foot mid-gig.

Here’s my real-world experience: I’ve had this pedal since I was about 19, and this exact unit endured roughly two years of weekly gigs and numerous rehearsals. On top of that, it’s spent the last decade being stored… let’s say not carefully. And yet, it still works absolutely fine. No drama, no failures, no sudden structural collapse under a Chuck Taylor. Blokes on the internet not knowing what they're talking about? Funny that...

I will concede that the pots feel a bit cheap, and if anything were to give up the ghost, I’d expect it to be one of those. But functionally? It’s as solid today as the day I bought it — or more accurately, the day it was bought for me. And for the £15 it cost at the time, it doesn’t owe me a single thing.

The Behringer TO100 might not be glamorous, and it might not win any awards for build materials, but as a no-nonsense Tube Screamer-style overdrive, it absolutely does the job. Looking back, I wasn’t unimpressed because it was bad — I was unimpressed because I was bad. It's ok, my ears got better.

Twice the phasers, twice the fun?

 Today, we continue with the next instalment in the long-running series titled “Behringer’s lawyers are certainly earning their keep.”

This time, we’re looking at the Behringer Dual Phase — formerly known as the Bi-Phase — a pedal that is very clearly, ahem, “heavily inspired” by the legendary Mu-Tron Bi-Phase. And when I say inspired, I mean lovingly, meticulously, and with an eye on exactly how far one can push things before legal letters start arriving.

Behringer are more than happy to tell you that this pedal contains 12 opto-couplers, which I’m assured is very important if you want to recreate the wild, swirling madness of the original. Somewhere along the line, however, someone in a suit must have cleared their throat, because the name quietly shifted from Bi-Phase to Dual Phase. Much like the saga with the mythical horse-themed overdrive that eventually became the Zentara, Behringer have a habit of colouring just inside the lines… until someone reminds them where the lines actually are.

Now, onto the pedal itself.

You do not accidentally buy a Dual Phase.

First of all, it is absolutely enormous. It is, without exaggeration, about the size of a fully grown human face. I even took a photo of it next to my own head, and it pretty much eclipsed the lot. Choosing this pedal means committing a serious amount of pedalboard real estate. This is not a casual “I’ll just pop a phaser on the end” kind of decision.

Then there’s the power draw. Those opto-couplers don’t come cheap — electrically speaking. This thing demands a whopping 700mA. Not asks. Demands! So not only does it take up half your board, it also insists on the finest quality current you can provide. You’re not choosing this pedal by mistake. This is a deliberate, intentional life choice.

If you’ve got the relevant cajones (or cajonas — I am definitely inclusive 😂) to make this your modulation of choice, there is an absurd amount going on under the hood. With more knobs and switches than a small aircraft cockpit, this is a long way from your set-and-forget Phase 90.

The left side handles what you might consider the “business end” of the operation. You’ve got rate, depth, and feedback — everything you need to sculpt your phaser from a gentle, shimmery swirl to a thick, chewy warble. The feedback control lets you tiptoe right into those glorious 1950s B-movie sci-fi laser sounds too, which is always a bonus. You can also switch between sine and square waveforms, adding either smooth movement or a more abrupt, choppy modulation feel.

The right side, however… this is where things go completely off the rails.

Alongside similar controls, you get access to Sweep Generator 2, which fundamentally changes the voicing of the phaser. Sweep Generator 1 is the “normal” phaser — lush, musical, and familiar. Sweep Generator 2 is its unhinged cousin. It leans hard into weirdness, chaos, and full-on sci-fi nonsense. If the left side is business, the right side is very much the party.  It takes the logic of the humble mullet.

And of course, being called the Dual Phase, you’re not expected to keep these two worlds separate. Engaging both sides at once is not only possible — it’s actively encouraged. This is where the pedal truly earns its place, unlocking sounds you probably didn’t even know you wanted, and finally justifying why you’ve dedicated half your board and most of your power supply to a single modulation effect.

Is it practical?

Absolutely not.

Is it for everyone?

Definitely not.

Is it huge fun?

Without question — and with an emphasis on huge.

It’s also still far cheaper (and likely far more reliable) than hunting down an original Mu-Tron on the used market. If you’ve ever wanted to dive headfirst into the deep end of phaser madness, the Behringer Dual Phase might just be the most gloriously excessive way to do it.