My kids qualify as iPod pioneers. They both got them when iPods were (a) new to the market and (b) ghastly expensive. Ever since, they’ve both been down my neck to get one for myself, which I stoutly resisted on the grounds of (a) I already had a portable CD player, a Walkman, and a Creative MuVo MP3 player that weren’t getting much use, and (b) see “ghastly expensive,” above.
Fie on Apple. They finally snagged me. Thanks to refurbished last-year’s stuff on sale at the Apple store, I now have a black 1gig nano, which arrived yesterday.
I had checked out iTunes a year or so ago and hadn’t been particularly impressed with it, although it did let me play some of Blinkie’s music through my computer via the shared-library feature, which was great when I was trying to write a parody of “I Will Survive” in honor of “Dirty Jobs.” (Turned out great, if I do say so myself. I’m going to start putting some of my song parodies up online somewhere so I can see if I still want to pat myself on the back for my literary skills, but that’s another story.)
The music I like best is the music of my youth, which was so long ago that the legal download services in general go “Say what?” when I try to put the titles into a search. (Oh, the joys of the long-departed original Napster, which eventually offered just about everything I went looking for.) When I checked out iTunes Way Back When, it was as devoid of Sixties oddities as everyone else.
However, when I installed it again yesterday and idly browsed through, I spotted things like “Dubuque Blues” and “Pandora’s Golden Heebie Jeebies” by the Association. Hmm, said I. Hmmm.
The login I created when I bought Vengeant his iPod (in honor of his making it through UCLA more or less in one piece) was still good. So I coughed up a credit card and clicked “Buy” a few times. Told myself I was setting a limit of ten bucks, though. And stuck to it.
I must admit I had to read the manual a couple times before I grasped the concept of iTunes’ playlists, but after that, importing the stuff I’d put on my MuVo was pretty easy.
Of course, I then had to run to Fry’s and buy a case, because shiny-shiny black and silver don’t go well with greasy fingerprints. I was hoping for crystal clear, so the shiny-shiny would show through, but I settled for matte black silicone, and now have something that looks like the monolith from “2001.” (Or, as Mad Magazine put it, “the box the United Nations building came in.”)
So here I am, typing away with the monolith around my neck, rocking out to “Come Dancing,” by the Kinks. I’m gonna have to look up how to do that equalize-volume thing, though. With ears like mine, sonic surprises are not a good idea.
I’m sure my kids will have plenty of comments, suggestion, and finger-pointing laughter at my expense in the days to come.
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