Malfunction

It seemed like a good idea to buy an mp3 player. I wanted it mainly for audio books but I could have borrowed those from the library, which would have cost me nothing. Instead, I had to buy an mp3 player. It cost me a hundred and fifty quid but it was neat. It was a Creative Zen Sleek, which is made to look like an iPod and even has the same stupid white "here I am - come and mug me!" earphones, but where it differs  is that you can drop it on the carpet and it doesn't break, an intriguing feature which Apple don't seem to have thought of.

The trouble is: it uses Microsoft software.

To get it to work with the audio books from Audible, I had to update the firmware and update Windows Media Player and by the time I'd done all that, it didn't work any longer. Not only that but Windows Media Player could no longer find the licenses for all the music I'd downloaded over the previous year, so I couldn't play it any more. Not any of it. Can you imagine that happening with something you'd bought at a record store? You open up the jewel case one day and find that the shop has taken back the CD even though you've paid for the damn thing. There's a technical error at HMV so one of the managers accidentally comes out and burgles you. It wouldn't happen, would it? Well, not outside a science fiction movie anyway, and even then only one by Philip K Dick. And the record companies are worried about the internet losing them money...!

Anyway, the short and the long of it is that I had to reload Windows on my computer to get my music back. And some of it is still missing, like Heliopolis at Night by Aberfeldy, for instance, and Portions for Foxes by Rilo Kiley. But at least I now had a working mp3 player. At least I could lie in bed and listen to The Time Traveler's Wife or Arthur and George without having to change the CD every seventy minutes. How dreadful it had been having to change CDs! It had certainly been worth all those weeks of tearing my hair out, cursing Bill Gates, and trying to interpret the cryptic messages from Creative Technical Support to avoid such inconvenience. I would have happily swum through shark-infested waters into the bargain - and I can't even swim. (A touch of sarcasm has crept into this blog by the way, in case you hadn't noticed. I expect there's a smiley face or something I can use to signify that but I'm not very good at that sort of thing. And no, in case, you were wondering, I don't get all my book recommendations from the Richard and Judy Show, only some of them.)

But the awful truth I'm leading up to is that today, it almost happened again. After months of happy trouble-free Creative Zen listening - trouble free, that is, except for the way bits of dandruff tend to find their way under the screen and once they're there, you can't get them out (bit of a design fault there, and I suspect it's not even my dandruff) - after all those wonderfully blissful months, I was downloading a few sixties tracks from Napster and switched the computer off without unplugging the player, and for some reason or other, the damn thing froze up solid. "Docked" said the screen, but it wasn't any longer. The player had gone into a vegetative state. I was traumatized! Was it all going to happen all over again? Did I face endless weeks of staring at the computer screen, willing Bill Gates to be competent? Surely it wouldn't come to that?

Fortunately, it didn't.  I managed to find the instruction book, which reminded me that the player could be reset by sticking a straightened-out paper clip up its backside. (If only all of life's problems were so easily solved...) But just for a moment, as I waited to see if this would work, it was as though my life hung in the balance. There I was sitting, willing it to be OK, feeling that the whole of my future existence depended on that little chunk of metal, plastic and dandruff functioning properly. As though nothing else in the whole universe mattered...

Later on, when the paper-clip's work was finally done and the mp3 player was working again, I settled back and listened to one of the tracks I'd downloaded: Rainbow Valley by The Love Affair, one of the forgotten classics of the sixties, in my opinion. I just love that female vocalist. Sigh! The place they're singing about is a bit like the pop equivalent of Brigadoon: a fabulous valley where loads of good stuff happens. And it occurred to me that maybe it would be possible to have such a world, a world in which no one's happiness ever depended on the satisfactory functioning of a small box full of audio books and dandruff.

Or on anything else.

Comments

[Pam]

I recently bought a sound system dating back to the 1980s from a friend of mine, so I'm still able to play vinyl and cassettes as well as CDs. I can approximate an IPOD Shuffle by hitting the Remote setting on the five-CD changer and pretending not to notice all the clunky chuntering noises when it switches between CDs. Better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, or having dandruff in the works.

Good to see you blogging, Simon. I look forward to reading more from you.

[Paul Vincent]

I'll echo Pam's sentiments, Simon. It's always good to have new Simon-stuff to read. I was given an iPod for my birthday this year, and initially used it solely for listening to entire CD albums which I'd ripped onto it. The notion of using the Shuffle feature seemed contemptible - the kind of audio-wallpaper approach to music adopted by those who don't *really* like music all that much. Not for real music fans, nosir. Then, one day, having reached a total of 6000 songs on the thing, I hit "Shuffle" to save having to keep selecting albums whilst re-painting our gates. Revelation! Suddenyl I was listening to a brilliant radio station that only played music I thought was wonderful. And it had a completely silent DJ - no sycophantic posse, no inane solipsist burble. Just great, great music. And the sheer volume of tracks meant there was no way of anticipating what would come next. There were songs I'd not listened to in years, because, you know, it's so much trouble hoisting out the CD just to listen to one track. Someone wrote a book about the way their iPod had led to them rediscovering their record collection. In a flash I understood perfectly what they meant! So now I'm an iPod shuffle addict. As for digital downloads, I've eschewed iTunes and Napster, with their fascistic Digital Rights Management. F*** 'em. Instead, I've subscribed to eMusic.com, which gives you totally un-protected mp3s for about 20p per track (40 tracks per month for £8.99 per month). The only "downside" is that they only have music from independent labels. But as far as I'm concerned, being more a Genesis P.Orridge guy than a Genesis guy, if you catch my drift, this is a *good* thing. Keeps out the Simply Red fans, and other such oiks. Anyway, I've blethered on at far too great a length. Should do my own blog, really. Consider this a letter of comment - you obviously still give good hook.

[Christina Lake]

Great to see the blog, Simon, but I'm now torn between replying and getting on with burning (or should that be ripping?) some more CDs for my MP3 player so that I can listen to the completely addictive Deaf Mutes on the way to work.