It’s been a while. Umm, yes… quite a while, given the date on my last post. That’s what happens when you pour ramblings into Twitter and Facebook and almost entirely forget that you have a web host. Let’s see how long I can keep this up, starting with a little walk down memory lane courtesy of Kick Inside, my first iPod.
Last year, I replaced my third-generation, 30GB model with a 120GB iPod classic, lured by the excitement of enough storage to dip into a ridiculously large music collection whenever and wherever I chose. This regrettable event came after almost five and a half years with its ancestor, whose dimensions made it anything but discreet when stuffed into a jeans pocket. The decision to replace a working piece of kit was also influenced by having to pile cash into another replacement battery, though admittedly it would have been a small amount.
My faithful partner was recently resurrected from its comfortable resting place in a drawer, where it lay after two previous battery replacements, a logic board replacement (thanks again, Chris) and near daily punishment for more than half a decade. I should’ve steeled myself against a guilt trip before flicking the hold switch and pressing the Menu button. Oh, how callously fickle I felt as the chunky little box began to boot, not seeming to mind its betrayal less than a year ago.
After staring at a black Apple logo for a few seconds, a wave of nostalgia surged through me. The old school menus appeared on the tiny monochrome screen, rendered in the beautiful Chicago typeface. Other memories returned, too. If you had one of the early generations of iPod, perhaps you recall the immense packaging compared to today’s models, the huge wall charger that was almost as big as the iPod itself, and the inline remote control to which you could attach any headphones. I held the Menu button down and the controls lit in red from behind. How quaint. After being spoiled by the screens of the iPhone and iPod classic, I’m amazed that my eyes coped for so long with the contrast set as close to minimum as possible. Shameful that we move on so easily.
Why so much fondness for a piece of electronics? You may mock the affection for something that’s ultimately an object, a possession, something that many would see as disposable, but just as Jonathan Ive intended that owners should form a bond with the original iMac, this pearly princess was my trusted companion on daily commutes and many longer trips. (Uh oh, here comes the guilt trip again.)
Some moments that I've had, some moments of pleasure
For years, Apple’s iPod marketing touted the benefit of being able to carry thousands more songs, a remarkable feat just a few years ago. I resisted it during the first couple of generations until something snapped, and the physical limitations of carrying just a few MiniDiscs (or a couple of cassettes) became a thing of the past. I could be as bipolar with my listening habits as I cared to be, without being weighed down or uncomfortable.
Since then, Kick Inside has been shied away from the younger, more nubile iPods and iPhones that are a common sight on London’s trains and buses. In a bout of musical pretension, I took up Apple’s offer of an engraving on the back, thinking more affectionately of the music than the player that would store it. Today, the text is barely legible against the heavily scratched backplate, yet the sentimental notion is unexpectedly apt.
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I understand. It was painful when I dissected my own 3rd-gen for MacUser. Though I’d love a first-gen iPod, I still have tremendous affection for that roundy-cornered, red-light-glowy little guy.
I’d love a psychologist to confirm my pet theory that one of the reasons people love the iPhone so much is that you stroke it and touch it, as you would a lover’s face. (You know what I mean.) Same is kinda true of the iPod’s capacitive Click Wheel too, certainly in comparison to its button-jabby predecessors and competitors.)
Also: you’re more than welcome.