Winter time.

After dropping Kate at work on Friday morning, Winter and I spent an hour or so wandering around the beautiful Fitzroy Gardens.

We held hands and pottered through the trees and along the many pathways. We felt the warmth of the sun, and the cool of the shade. We chased birds and kicked pine cones. We stroked long, leathery leaves and shook tall bamboo canes. We stepped slowly, carefully, down brick steps to a foun... oop, no, we're climbing back up the steps. And down again. Oh and up again. Aaand down again. What about this fountain, Winter? Up again. Down again.

Several lifetimes later we left the steps and dragged our feet through the gravel paths of the flower-filled Conservatory, laughing at the crunchy noise. We watched a bus load of American tourists taking turns taking each other's photo on a small footbridge amid a backdrop of luscious colour. We ran from two gleaming vintage cars as they spluttered past, sounding like they were about to explode. We watched a plane fly overhead through the perfectly blue sky, and waved goodbye when it disappeared over the treeline.

And finally, when Winter's legs began to wobble, I carried her back to the car, waving goodbye to Mum up in her window across the road, and heading for home where Winter fell into an instant slumber, and I padded off to fill the kettle.

As mornings go, it was one of my finest.

A disruption to regular programming.

Well, thanks to Channel 7's new FASTTRACK scheme, the other night I... ah, a, ah, a... friend of mine, yes, that'll do... a friend of mine watched a TV show on TV without downloading it first! New Earl was on, he hadn't seen it, so he plonked himself down in front of the box and watched. Ads and all! Sure, the ads were on mute, (an experience my friend tells me even made him feel a little nostalgic), but there they were, beaming into his lounge room, bouncing off his retinas, and making him wait until they were good and ready to let the show go on.

And during one such ad break (as if there hadn't been enough disruption for one night), he saw an ad for an upcoming episode of Heroes he'd not yet seen! Scrabbling frantically for the remote, he flicked the silent box to another channel to avoid any spoilers and again sat and pondered, trying to think of the last time that had happened...

He's not sure if he'll make a habit of this dancing to the networks' tune, but if it's on (within, you know, twenty minutes of the advertised starting time), and there's nothing else he needs to do, why not?

iPod touch myself.

Well, I abstained for as long as I was able, but in the end my hand was forced and I succumbed to the inevitable: I've just got myself a shiny new 16GB iPod touch.


And I have to say, it's even better than I imagined. The hyperbole just wasn't hyperbolly enough. The interface is incredible, the screen is incredible, browsing the actual web over WI-FI is incredible, the little details are incredible... it's just incredible full stop.

So, yeah, I was planning to hold out for a 30GB model, but last week I had a little butterfingers incident where my beloved third-gen iPod took a tumble onto the footpath and came up not so shiny. It was still playing, mind you, but the enclosure had come apart and needed to be clicked shut, and when I turned it on the next day I discovered its entire contents had somehow been erased. No albums, no playlists, nothing. And when I plugged it into my Mac, Finder kept crashing. Not a healthy sign.

So, vale third-generation touch-wheel iPod. You were a faithful and steady companion, and your monochrome screen was second to no other monochrome screen. And if I ever complained about 20GB being too restrictive, please overlook the fact that you've been replaced by a younger, slimmer model that holds only 16. The key, you see, as I've recently learned, is smart playlist management and avoiding so called "dark matter": those quirks of your collection that found their way in but have remained unplayed ever since. Sure, a day may come where it would've been handy to have some obscure track at hand, but is that chance worth denying yourself the wonders of a touch interface in the meantime?

I didn't think so, and it was off to JB for me. And yes, I've already done like everyone else on YouTube and let Winter scroll through the photos and tap her way around the apps. She's a little heavy-handed, but she took to it right away.

Speaking of YouTube, I just came across the very first iPod promotional video from 2001. It's seven minutes long, but it's a great watch; if only to see how much things have changed in six years.

Although, it's funny how relative things are. The audio could be used all but unchanged for the iPod touch, but to hear the heads marvel at how "thin" the first-gen iPod was is quite amusing. Well, to me, anyway. And only 1000 songs in your pocket? How did we ever survive back then?

UPDATE: The iPod touch: so simple even a dog can use one.

UPDATE 2: Kate informs me the iPod promotional video is not a great watch. :)

UPDATE 3: Just noticed that if the iPod touch is playing and you pull out the headphones, it automatically pauses playback. Nice. It's the little things...

UPDATE 4: Today, October 23, is the iPod's sixth birthday. And if you've not yet had your fill of old school iPod video goodness, here's another for you with His Steveness launching the iPod back in 2001. Boom.

Kate may disagree, but I reckon it's another cracker watch.

And watching it I've just noticed that Jobs doesn't call it "the iPod", just "iPod". Like it's a person. Huh. Weird.

In Rainbows.

Alright! £1.45 and a quick legal download later, and Radiohead's new album, In Rainbows, is playing away happily in my iTunes. Though perhaps "happily" isn't the best word? Certainly not one you'll hear in connection with a Radiohead album very often, anyway. Hmm. Perhaps, "playing despondently?" Whatever the case, there it is, playing away. Minus cover art for the moment, which is a little annoying, but which I'll forgive out of respect for the sheer ballsiness of this little experiment in putting the power back into the hands of the artist.

If you haven't heard, Radiohead are out of contract, and are distributing their new album solely (for the time being, at least) through their website. You can either order the deluxe kitchen sink discbox edition featuring Everything And More for £40, or you can just download the album for... whatever price you feel is fair!

No, really. You just plug in whatever you want and your download begins. Despite being of the opinion that every Radiohead album is worth its weight in platinum, it took me a while to decide on a figure. I'm still very much a CD man, and will buy the album when it's eventually released that way, and I didn't really want to buy the album twice. But I also didn't want to send the message that I thought the album was worth nothing, so in the end I settled on £3 (a nice halfway point, I feel) and proceeded to the checkout, only to discover, strangely, that it was only going to charge me £1 (plus the 45p transaction fee). I was impatient to get underway, decided not to argue, clicked Submit and my download began.

So, how good is that? Interaction direct with the artist with, I imagine, a good share of the profit (however small it may be) going directly to them, with the big studios and their shareholders sitting on the sidelines watching. I wonder how this will change things? I guess it's not for everyone as Radiohead can afford (in every sense of the word) to take a risk like this, but it'll be interesting to see what this'll do to the digital landscape, and how the studios will react.

Anyway, what are you waiting for? Get downloading! :)

UPDATE: Davidic found me some cover art.


Not hi-res, but it'll do for now. Hang on. Helvetica? Boo! 'Hail to the Thief' is still my favourite Radiohead cover.

UPDATE 2: According to a survey of 5000 readers by online music magazine Record of the Day, the average price paid by those who downloaded In Rainbows was £3.88.

UPDATE 3: Comments left as a part of the survey certainly cover the spectrum. From fervid cheerleading:

"I paid the maximum allowed amount, £99.99, just for the digital download because Radiohead deserves massive accolades for their industry leadership. Aside from being a great band, they have shown the courage to do what the vested interests in the music industry have not -- embrace new models of distribution that will benefit the industry as a whole, fans, artists and labels alike, not just record execs. In Rainbows might have cost me 200 bucks, but I believe Radiohead’s contribution to fans, music and society as a whole, is priceless. The band has never ripped off its fans, in recorded quality or live performance. It’s time to return that favour."

to the downright crotchety:

"I paid 0.00 and I’ll burn it to CD for my friends too. I’m reminding the commentators that a large part of the market just doesn’t expect to pay for music anymore. It’s easy for bands whose status has been achieved by the investment of record labels, (whose demise now seems to be so gleefully welcomed by the punters), but are Radiohead going to invest in bands of the future? They’re not revolutionising anything they’re just capitalising on market transition, and like all the non traditional newcomers, sucking out the profit for themselves."

Although, downloading the album via the approved method seems like an odd form of protest. :)