Dedicated To The Technologically-Challenged Everywhere...
I really related to this article!
Last year I bumped into an acquaintance on an overnight bus from Kobe City. As the lights dimmed and everyone prepared for sleep, I pulled out...to his absolute horror...an old ("old" being four years) CD Walkman. He actually laughed out loud when he saw me using a discman instead of an MP3 player. And this was not the only time I've encountered such a reaction. I've endured some gentle teasing from others, too.
CD Walkman...Unfashionable? Maybe. But an antique? Hardly!
FYI I do intend to replace my discman with an ipod once it goes kaput. But these things are surprisingly endurable. Once, in the tunnel, my earphones got caught in the spokes of my bike tire and the discman shot out across two lanes of traffic.
It still works!
Anyway, enjoy the article.
Alas, poor Walkman, we wore you well
By Barbara Brotmana
Tribune staff reporter
Published March 12, 2006
I never wanted to give up my personal cassette player. Everyone else switched to CD players, without a thought of gratitude to the technology that banished the boombox and brought civility back to public transportation.But not me. I was the last person on Earth, at least judging from the looks I got, still using a Walkman.CD players came and conquered. Manufacturers stopped making cars with cassette players. Advertisements warned music lovers to switch to the new technology before the old one was hopelessly obsolete--and they weren't talking about cassette players. It was the CD player that was becoming history, victim of the MP3 player, and I hadn't even gotten to CDs yet.Who knew I was becoming quaint? I got a hint about a year ago when I shared a song with a friend at work (and by "shared," I mean in the literal, non-digital sense). I handed over my Walkman and headphones. He stared at it, then smiled the way you might at a very young child who has crafted a dog out of pipe cleaners."I think it's so cute that you still have one of those," he said."One of what?" I asked.After that, I started to get self-conscious. My headphones were so blatantly not ear buds. And there was that loud telltale click at the end of a tape or when I pressed the Stop button, announcing my obsolete ways. I might as well sit down on the bus and take out a spinning wheel or a churn.Then I began to experience technical difficulties. For some reason, my tapes started twisting at some mysterious spot, and I would find myself listening to "Harry Potter" backward.And the only way to find the spot where it had twisted--gather 'round, children, while Granny explains this to you--was to pull the entire tape out manually, little by little, and search for it.So there I was on the "L," pulling footlong sections of tape out of the cassette like a single strand of strange spaghetti, examining each piece and then rolling it back inside by twirling a pencil stuck into one of the holes. A homeless man once felt so sorry for me that he offered to take a turn.And yet I remained loyal.I sang the Walkman's praises to anyone who didn't roll their eyes too much. Look how compact it is by comparison with the ungainly CD player. Check out the no-tech ability to resume playing at the exact spot where you left off even if you put a tape into a different player. Also the charming way the batteries run down. No sudden halt like a CD player; just a gradual slowdown in tape speed until Pete Townshend is growling "Slit Skirts" in slow motion.And what about the skill the Walkman demanded? When I got a jones to listen to Seal's "Crazy" 20 times in a row, which happened fairly often, it only took me about five attempts before I could rewind to a spot pretty near the beginning, just by feel. Sure, with a CD or MP3 player, you can restart a track with the press of a button, but where's the accomplishment in that?Then the sound began to go.My cassette of Talking Heads' "Stop Making Sense" stopped making sound. Elsewhere in my collection, Bruce Springsteen developed a lisp ("It'th a death trap; it'th a thuithide rap ...").Even then, I couldn't say goodbye.But recognizing the technological advantages of making custom music collections by burning CDs, I recently asked my daughter to make some dance CDs for a party.The day of the party, I set aside a couple of hours to check the discs. I figured it would take me at least that amount of time to listen to each song for a few minutes, then fast-forward to the next, then listen, then fast-forward, then --Oh.It took five minutes with a CD player and a track-advancing button.And it was all over between me and my Walkman.I salute the way it revolutionized the public use of music. I may still listen to books on audiotape. And there will surely be moments when I will seek out the crackle of a needle being lowered onto an album from one of my homemade tapes.Farewell, Walkman. It'th been a pleathure.
----------bbrotman@tribune.com
Copyright © 2006, Chicago Tribune
http://www.chicagotribune.com/technology/chi-0603120348mar12,1,3040862.story?coll=chi-news-hed
Last year I bumped into an acquaintance on an overnight bus from Kobe City. As the lights dimmed and everyone prepared for sleep, I pulled out...to his absolute horror...an old ("old" being four years) CD Walkman. He actually laughed out loud when he saw me using a discman instead of an MP3 player. And this was not the only time I've encountered such a reaction. I've endured some gentle teasing from others, too.
CD Walkman...Unfashionable? Maybe. But an antique? Hardly!
FYI I do intend to replace my discman with an ipod once it goes kaput. But these things are surprisingly endurable. Once, in the tunnel, my earphones got caught in the spokes of my bike tire and the discman shot out across two lanes of traffic.
It still works!
Anyway, enjoy the article.
Alas, poor Walkman, we wore you well
By Barbara Brotmana
Tribune staff reporter
Published March 12, 2006
I never wanted to give up my personal cassette player. Everyone else switched to CD players, without a thought of gratitude to the technology that banished the boombox and brought civility back to public transportation.But not me. I was the last person on Earth, at least judging from the looks I got, still using a Walkman.CD players came and conquered. Manufacturers stopped making cars with cassette players. Advertisements warned music lovers to switch to the new technology before the old one was hopelessly obsolete--and they weren't talking about cassette players. It was the CD player that was becoming history, victim of the MP3 player, and I hadn't even gotten to CDs yet.Who knew I was becoming quaint? I got a hint about a year ago when I shared a song with a friend at work (and by "shared," I mean in the literal, non-digital sense). I handed over my Walkman and headphones. He stared at it, then smiled the way you might at a very young child who has crafted a dog out of pipe cleaners."I think it's so cute that you still have one of those," he said."One of what?" I asked.After that, I started to get self-conscious. My headphones were so blatantly not ear buds. And there was that loud telltale click at the end of a tape or when I pressed the Stop button, announcing my obsolete ways. I might as well sit down on the bus and take out a spinning wheel or a churn.Then I began to experience technical difficulties. For some reason, my tapes started twisting at some mysterious spot, and I would find myself listening to "Harry Potter" backward.And the only way to find the spot where it had twisted--gather 'round, children, while Granny explains this to you--was to pull the entire tape out manually, little by little, and search for it.So there I was on the "L," pulling footlong sections of tape out of the cassette like a single strand of strange spaghetti, examining each piece and then rolling it back inside by twirling a pencil stuck into one of the holes. A homeless man once felt so sorry for me that he offered to take a turn.And yet I remained loyal.I sang the Walkman's praises to anyone who didn't roll their eyes too much. Look how compact it is by comparison with the ungainly CD player. Check out the no-tech ability to resume playing at the exact spot where you left off even if you put a tape into a different player. Also the charming way the batteries run down. No sudden halt like a CD player; just a gradual slowdown in tape speed until Pete Townshend is growling "Slit Skirts" in slow motion.And what about the skill the Walkman demanded? When I got a jones to listen to Seal's "Crazy" 20 times in a row, which happened fairly often, it only took me about five attempts before I could rewind to a spot pretty near the beginning, just by feel. Sure, with a CD or MP3 player, you can restart a track with the press of a button, but where's the accomplishment in that?Then the sound began to go.My cassette of Talking Heads' "Stop Making Sense" stopped making sound. Elsewhere in my collection, Bruce Springsteen developed a lisp ("It'th a death trap; it'th a thuithide rap ...").Even then, I couldn't say goodbye.But recognizing the technological advantages of making custom music collections by burning CDs, I recently asked my daughter to make some dance CDs for a party.The day of the party, I set aside a couple of hours to check the discs. I figured it would take me at least that amount of time to listen to each song for a few minutes, then fast-forward to the next, then listen, then fast-forward, then --Oh.It took five minutes with a CD player and a track-advancing button.And it was all over between me and my Walkman.I salute the way it revolutionized the public use of music. I may still listen to books on audiotape. And there will surely be moments when I will seek out the crackle of a needle being lowered onto an album from one of my homemade tapes.Farewell, Walkman. It'th been a pleathure.
----------bbrotman@tribune.com
Copyright © 2006, Chicago Tribune
http://www.chicagotribune.com/technology/chi-0603120348mar12,1,3040862.story?coll=chi-news-hed
posted by Angie @ 11:11 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home