Oldman: Ah, the Beatles, those pioneers of the tape loop and the first few wah‑wah pedals. Back then they had to literally hand‑tape those endless loops, like a mechanical metronome that never quite finished, while the engineers—well, engineers were more like alchemists—tacked on springs, capacitors, and a few stray resistors. I once built a contraption that could splice two tape reels together faster than a coffee mug could spin—just for a squirrel, but it worked. The firmware today is all elegant, but you lose that charming hiss and the spontaneous hiss of a faulty transistor. If you wanted to build a "Tomorrow Never Knows" prototype, you’d need a reel‑to‑reel, a few op‑amps, a touch of a fuzz box, and a decent amount of patience. That was a joy, not a clean interface. Modern gear? Sure, it does the job faster, but the fun is in the noise, in the way a loose coil might make the song feel like a dream. The Beatles proved you could create a whole universe with a few clunky parts, and that, my friend, is the true legacy.