John Moe has some fun with Public Enemy.
Category Archives: Entertainment
Cheesy Song Lyrics —
Apres Moi, Le Deluge Edition
Via Ok Go, with apologies to Hellblazer
Having spent your entire life
Exactly where you are tonight
In the valley between intent and deed
You must have mastered this
The fragile art of a good excuse
The little things that get you to believe
That get you to believe
So listen, I’m not trying to prove
Anything at all here
But don’t you think that maybe,
This time, you were wrong?
You’ve spent your entire life
Quick-tongued and always right
Hasn’t being right just let you down
Right just let you down
So listen, I’m not trying to say
Anything at all here
There isn’t much left anyway
That hasn’t been said
But don’t you think that possibly,
This time, it’s different?
Don’t you think that maybe,
This time, you were wrong?
iPod nano
Having just acquired the full-bore iPod, I don’t really need one. But I find myself wanting one, or at least wanting to hold one, just to see if it’s as unbelievably small as it looks.
A Million Ways
This one has already been up and down the net, so I’m a little late to the party, but Chicago rockers Ok Go, frequent guest band on live shows of WBEZ‘s This American Life, put together a little video in their backyard to accompany the song “A Million Ways”, off of their newly-released album, Oh No.
It was intended to close out their live shows, and their label wasn’t enthused with it, but the band started handing out copies at the aforementioned shows, and… well, we know how these things go in the age of the ‘net, yes?
NPR interviewed the band’s vocalist/guitarist, Damian Kulash, and his sister, choreographer Trish Sie, who recounted the story of the clip’s genesis.
They mention that they spent a week practicing before recording. Even so, this thing was shot in a single continuous take, as far as I can tell. I wonder just how many tries that took.
Hungry Like The Wolf
Goddamn, would I have paid good money to be in the audience for this little number. Somehow I suspect that the recording just doesn’t do it justice.
Hail the New Brick
“The war is over. We lost.” So said Laura Roslin in the pilot for the new Battlestar Galactica, as she tried to convince Commander Adama that discretion was the better part of valor, or at least survival.
The same might be said of the digital audio wars. I have pretty much limitless respect for the folks at Xiphophorous; I think that Ogg Vorbis is a textbook example of how a media format should be designed and implemented for the public good. Unfortunately, a solid file format alone does not guarantee victory in the marketplace, and it’s pretty clear at this point that Apple, with the iPod and iTunes music store, has won dominance over the digital-music hill through a combination of first-class product design and spot-on execution.
Having grown increasingly frstrated with the design flaws of my trusty iHP-120, and seeing that at least one artist I care about is now releasing iTunes exclusives, I decided that the time had come to take the plunge. So I followed my friend Greg’s lead and picked up the current top-of-the-line, 60-gigabyte, color-display iPod.
My initial impression: “Wow, this thing is everything it’s cracked up to be.”
To elaborate a bit: the device’s superficial appearance is minimalist and elegant, but that’s the least of it. Clean, refined design goes all the way to the core of the thing, from the intuitive controls to the user interface — and that doesn’t even begin to touch upon its seamless integration with iTunes.
Pros:
- It powers up instantly. (Failure to do so was one of my biggest gripes about the iHP-120, which seemed to spend half a minute or so spinning up.)
- Music is organized intelligently and intuitively. (The iHP-120 hewed strictly to the organization of underlying filesystem.)
- The iPod doesn’t suffer amnesia every time it talks to the mothership, but remembers exactly where it was and what it was doing before it was plugged into a host computer. (The iHP-120 would revert to the same song after being detached.)
- The scrollwheel — more a scrollpad, really, since it uses a solid-state touch-sensitive surface — is the way every portable player should implement its interface. (Yes, I’m aware that Apple probably has the thing patented out the wazoo. That does, unfortunately, not change the facts. The iHP-120’s stubby little joystick got maddening after a while.)
- Apple’s designers devised the dock connector on the bottom of the iPod to handle everything: power, data, and a copy of the analog audio signal. Once upon a time I might have dinged them for using a proprietary connector instead of a series of standard ones, but that was before I grew tired of plugging multiple cables into different parts of the iHP-120 on a daily basis.
- The iPod is able to sense when something is plugged into, or unplugged from, the headphone jack. It starts up in the former instance, and pauses in the latter. (This almost seems like frippery until you consider that I ran the battery on the iHP-120 down more than once by unplugging it and then forgetting to stop it.)
Cons:
- iTunes, on Windows at least, seems to have some kind of seizure when you first plug the iPod into the USB port. It spends a few seconds thinking about something to the exclusion of all user input before proceeding with business as usual. Annoying, but tolerable.
- iTunes appears to want its affiliation with a given iPod to be exclusive. In other words, if you’re in the habit of plugging your iPod into machine A, you should always plug it into machine A — plug it into machine B and the first thing the latter will offer to do is wipe the iPod clean of your music and playlists. This wouldn’t be so irritating if Palm hadn’t solved this problem a decade ago, but again, it’s tolerable.
To be honest, I haven’t investigated this aggressively — since I have a laptop now, and carry it with me everywhere, I’ve just made that the sync machine and don’t mind. I could see this getting on my nerves in a serious way, though, if I wanted to keep music collections synchronized between a work and home desktop.
Looking at the above list, it would seem that all of my complaints are with iTunes, rather than the iPod itself. Even that’s not really an accurate picture, since there’s more about iTunes to like than dislike. Its mechanics for assembling and managing playlists, for example, are everything WinAmp’s aren’t, despite Nullsoft’s having a half-decade head start in which to get it at least approximately right. You just drag and drop to your heart’s content, and never see a playlist you spent days carefully tweaking obliterated because you accidentally chose to “Play” rather than “Enqueue” some random file. I’d praise iTunes’ mechanism for syncing those playlists down to the iPod, but it almost feels like there’s nothing to praise: as with the music itself, it Just Happens.
And then there’s the iTunes Music Store. I think that this one gets counted as a “Pro”, but I won’t be sure until I have a chance to see how much damage I do the bank account with music purchases over the next few months. iTMS is simultaneously the most gratifying and terrifying e-commerce experience I’ve ever had in my life. Gratifying, because the interval between thinking “I’d like that song” and actually having it in your posession is measured in terms of a single mouse click and a matter of seconds. Terrifying, because the whole thing is so unbelievably streamlined that you could very easily lose sight of the fact that you’re spending real money every time you click “Buy”.
Katamari Birthday, Paul
My friend Paul recently marked his fortieth birthday, and today we celebrated the event at his home. Much fun was had and even more good food was eaten. There was air hockey, and pinball, and — thanks to a collaborative effort involving Bill, Rob, and Paul, among others — there was Katamari Damacy, a game I’d never played before despite having owned it for several months now. (The TV’s been dead since December, and I haven’t gotten around to repairing it.)
In case you’ve never heard of it, Katamari Damacy is a silly, strange, and above all exceedingly Japanese game that manages to be disarmingly charming despite its considerable weirdness. The premise almost defies explanation, but the gameplay is mind-bogglingly simple: run around the landscape with a sticky ball, and roll things up into it. When you begin, your ball is tiny, and can only pick up small things — pushpins, paper clips, coins, and so forth. As it grows, though, it can pick up ever-larger items: small animals, people, bicycles, large animals, and, eventually, cars, ships, and buildings.
The controls are equally simple, requiring the use only of both thumbsticks. (This is especially fortunate from my current perspective. Playing did ultimately hurt my wrist, but I can’t say it wasn’t worth it.) Past acquaintance with a tank-piloting game, such as Battlezone or Assault, is surprisingly helpful.
I can’t explain just what’s so insanely entertaining about running around firing nothing, destroying nothing, and in fact doing nothing besides rolling up crudely-modeled objects into a ball. I can only report that it is, in fact, deeply addictive fun. I might still be playing had my wrist not stopped me. Part of the amusement, to be sure, are the indignant squeals and shouts you hear once your ball is big enough to start picking up living things.
Another part is the promise of having your performance cuttingly critiqued, at the completion of every level, by the King Of All Cosmos, surely the most eccentric diety ever to carelessly abuse the Godhead. Think Simon Cowell in an outfit that’s equal parts Liberace, Carnival in Rio, and Mummenschanz, and you’re in the right ballpark.
It’s fun, and all too rare, to experience something that lives up to its billing. Katamari Damacy delivers.
Careful With That Coax, Eugene
In the past couple of months I’ve tracked, on two separate occasions, cable-TV signal-quality issues down to improperly-terminated coaxial connections. Both times someone seems to have decided that the end of the center conductor should be flush with the end of the surrounding screw-on collar.
No.
For the record: when you strip coaxial cable, you’re supposed to expose one-quarter inch — sixteen sixty-fourths for the mathematically disinclined amongst you — of center conductor. The collar of the RG-6 Quad compression-fit F-connector I happen to have at hand is, according to my caliper, eleven sixty-fourths of an inch deep. The center conductor is supposed to protrude. Don’t trim it flush unless snow on your television screen and irksome connectivity problems with your cable modem are your idea of an afternoon’s entertainment.
Amateurs.
Christmas in September
The audiobook version of Anansi Boys will indeed be unabridged. And there’s even a pre-encoded-for-your-convenience MP3 CD version, which I’ve pre-ordered, of course.
Serious Profession
Neil Gaiman has a new book coming out next month, Anansi Boys. (Judging from the title, it could be set in the same universe as American Gods. Or it could be a differet beast entirely. I’m sure I could find out, but that would be peeking.) At any rate, I hadn’t known this was coming, and am excited about it.
The audiobook will be read by Gaiman’s friend and sometime collaborator, the blisteringly funny Lenny Henry — the man who brought Gareth Blackstock, the title character from “Chef!“, to such memorable life. I hadn’t had a clue this was coming, and I’m ecstatic about it.
Henry has a beautiful voice: rich, resonant, and mellifluous all at once. To hear it reading Gaiman’s evocative prose should be an absolute treat. If the audiobook version is, as I expect, unabridged, its release will likely mark the first time I favor an audiobook over its print counterpart.
But see what Neil has to say about it, and judge for yourself.