Brookswords

Alarming News

I didn't learn until this morning of an impending crisis in rock music; read it & weep:

Report: Only 7 Band Names Remaining

NEW YORK—According to data released Monday by the International Registry of Rock Band Names, only seven of the estimated 518 million potential names for musical acts remain available.

"Following the selection of 'The Stripped Amygdaloids,' 'A Purple Spray Of Cloth Violets,' and 'Guestowel' this past weekend, it is essential that new bands pick a name as soon as possible," read a statement on the organization's website. "Bands that wish to form after all names have been taken will be have to wait until a name becomes available, which could take anywhere from 10 minutes to 30 years."

This reminds me of an incident from decades ago.  As a child, I was (and I still am) a music lover.  I also had my share of obscure anxieties. This two traits, when combined, were a strange brew--one time I asked my dad if the day would soon arrive when all of the musical tunes will have been written, and no more new music would be made. He treated the question respectfully and assured me that I needn't worry about that.  (One can only imagine the look on his face after I walked away.)

iPod In My Mind

It's nice when you realize you have something you didn't know you have, thanks to the folks at the Onion:

I Have An iPod–In My Mind 

By Ted Lascowicz
August 20, 2003 |

I'm sure you've seen a lot of tech-savvy people smugly showing off that new hunk of entertainment hardware, the iPod personal stereo. Well, I might not have the scratch to get one, but frankly, I don't want the white-corded wonder. I have my very own iPod—in my mind.

I hear those little things carry up to a month's worth of music. Well, so does my mind. I can call up any song I've ever heard, any time I want. And I never have to load software or charge batteries. There are no firewire cords or docks to mess with. I just put my hands behind my head, lean back, and select a tune from the extensive music-library folder inside my brain.

Thirty gigabytes? So what? I know 7,500 songs, maybe more. Some songs, I forget I even have until they come around on shuffle. Why, just the other day, my mind started playing David Naughton's "Makin' It," a song I hadn't heard in years. And the sound quality was great!

Easy downloads? You don't know the meaning of the word "easy." And I don't have to know the meaning of the word "download." You may get MP3s off the Internet, you smug scenester, but I can get music off the television, the radio, even a passing ice-cream truck. If I don't want to waste the memory space on a high-fidelity copy, I just don't pay very close attention. Now, that's what I call convenience.

All I have to do is hear a song once or twice, and it's stored forever. I can call it up any time I want. Beach Boys. Beatles. How about some Bach? Or some Billy Joel? Sing me a song, piano man of my mind! And those are just the artists whose names begin with "B."

I can browse by artist, album, song, or music genre. Boom! I'm doing it right now! The "repeat" feature? Heck, songs from my iPod don't ever have to end. I swear, I had "Music Box Dancer" going through my head for three days straight last week.

You say those iPods have customizable playlists that allow you to line up songs of your choosing? Primitive! I can put together a playlist, say "Best-Ever Heavy Metal Anthems," while I'm sitting in traffic. My mind is light-years beyond that, though. Does your iPod have the "That Reminds Me Of Another Great Song" feature? Well, my mind does!

Does your iPod have a powerful feature that can play back the great songs of summer 1993, as they sounded coming out of Mike Tollefson's boombox in the back of the school bus? Of course not. That particular playlist is in my brain, which your pitiful iPod will never be able to autosync with.

But wait, you say that my iPod isn't wrapped up in a pretty little white case? Oh, I guess you haven't heard of a pretty little white case I like to call my skull. There's plenty of room for all of my contacts, too. Check this out: Paula, 398-9172, 195 Webster Place. Ha! Take that, Apple.