Apple Music – Cloudy Strains for a Clear Conscience?
Picture this dramatic scene. One steely dawn in the dead of winter, you are rudely roused by a snarling West wind as it pounds at your pains, pillages your pear tree, plucks potatoes from their loamy pillows, rips roses from the sanctuary of guardian gnomes, re-arranges last night’s refuse into next year’s Turner prize and roars through your rattled front door in a frenzy fit to douse dragon fire, hell bent on turning your bones brittle with a single icy bear-hug.
With a smile broader than spring sunshine, you writhe beneath a rustic tartan heirloom, rub soles against soothing cotton and sneer in contented seclusion from the swollen cheeks and chilling claws of mother Nature’s menacing horseman, knowing full well that the towering clouds traversing the heavens from whence he came are not the ones to fear.
Come now. Whoever heard of a wind disposed to harvest root vegetables or develop a novel knack for modern art and to win further favour with science, your garden wall, chimney stack and paddling pool would all present far more plausible targets than your front door, back door, or cat flap . As for gnomes guarding roses, a childish and ridiculous notion, it’s always been hydrangeas, roses are far too proud to rely on any but each other.
So please, let our plot unfold as their petals unfurl. In languid satisfaction, You sling off the covers, slip on a gown of contrasting tartan and shuffle over to a section of room reserved for reflection and recreation, a luxury no human should be denied.
Buried below a junk ridden jungle or perched above paperless perfection, resides your personal repository of melodic motivation.
Depending on the ears in need of pampering, this phenomenon will assume numerous forms.
Say hello to Chloe, the chaotic creative, a stash of CDs strewn across her desk sharing priceless real estate with plectrums, cables and papery echoes of lyrical inspiration.
Many jewel cases lie bare, their teeth broken, their occupants either relegated to coffee coasters, or one of two hundred honoured residents revolving in a resplendent Wurlitzer jukebox, acquired with the aid of busking bonuses, a student loan and several months of a Mother’s pension, donated in return for exclusive royalties from her daughter’s debut album and a starring role in more songs than any of her future lovers.
All most endearing to be sure, but utterly alien to Frank, our fanatical audiophile, whose colossal collection is blessed with pride of place upon rich hand-carved rosewood, personally sourced, sculpted and secured beyond the realm of clumsy curiosity, that is, ever since his nine year old nephew used an exceptionally rare cycle of Beethoven Symphonies to play Frisbee with Oscar, Frank’s pet Siberian Husky.
A regrettable mishap, but the perfect excuse to spend three otherwise empty Sundays cultivating and re-cataloguing till not a band left was left to chance, nor a booklet out of place, and every page mint with a sweet smell of marzipan.
Five thousand silver surfaces patiently craving a premium laser’s caress. Their sonic secrets to be revealed in flawless fidelity by his sublime Super-Audio primed Marantz 14S1. One agonizing exception was a cherished boxed set set of Carnegie Hall Recitals performed by his idol, Simon Barere, a shamefully unsung emperor of the ivories. The discs had assumed a curious bronze shade due to a dodgy ingredient employed by one guilty pressing plant, ironically to protect the recorded audio, but instead leaving it vulnerable to the elements with results far worse the vinyl’s most voluminous pop and crackle.
Lastly, there’s Linus the ripper ,the diskless die hard. A fervent file hoarder since Napster’s inception, whose eternally evolving library of flacs, wavs , and mp somethings spans a duo of digital custodians.
A mollifying mixture of soft rock, traditional jazz, electric instrumentals and country blues on his Colourfily C4. Acoustic purity preserved in palm sized nostalgia, its chassis forged from deep grained walnut with a facia of brushed champagne gold and chunky, yet stylish controls seemingly imported from the 70s. Premium grade op-amps and 24bit playback at four fold the sample rate of a CD.
“Not that I need it,” says Linus. “16 bit at 44 is fine, but flacs are a must, as is drag and drop access and an interface that fulfils without fiddling. Name me a device preceded by an “I” that meets both those prerequisitres.
This beaut takes SD cards, up to 32 gigs a piece, potentially limitless storage. If I’m running short I just buy another, but one is more than enough for on the go. When the time comes to top up or refresh, I pull the card from the Colorfly, stick it in my tower, copy or move whatever I want to wherever I wish, slide the card back in the Colourfly and savour music with the aid of actual buttons. Remember those? Simplicity itself.
Navigation is old school, but when you press, you hear. Your playlists under your fingers, at a pace entirely your own. No downloading, buffering, stuttering, authorising, validating or authenticating. Comforting proof that it’s still possible to slip into a melodic trance and not be forced to sign into one.
As for the rest, I have a NAS which resides under my desk with a database of over 20000 tracks, all tagged and indexed. I use DB Power amp to extract and Media Monkey to organize which, unlike other apps or real primates, is actually designed to do as its told.”
So, there you have it, three connoisseurs of contrasting tonality, their tastes as individual as their methods of indulgence, yet all equally passionate and on this grudgingly gloomy morning, determined to drown a stormy symphony with cascades of cloudless melodies.
Which one of them is you?
It matters not. For If you have emphasised even a mite with any, and comprehend the ecstasy evoked by harmonic escapism, you’ll be certain to shun the shallow concept and grotesque opportunism of a cloud managed music service. Today, a seemingly innocuous gesture of goodwill, tomorrow, a devious, insidious and avaricious machination, all but indistinguishable from the most virulent strains of ransom-ware. An apparently lawful incarnation of the crypto-locker virus.
Imagine for a moment either yourself, or our three friends succumbing to fatigue long after sundown. The waling westerly overture having subsided into a silken southerly lullaby.
No sooner has daily mundanity melted away, and the darker conscience been granted its nightly right to conjure, suddenly, their peaceful slumber is severed by a sinister visitation.
A faceless figure arrayed in a suit of snowy white, readily endorsed by the waxing moon, stands shimmering in the doorway. Its glowing skull resembles roundly forbidden fruit in golden delicious splendour and spews rhetoric as slick as a serpent.
This mysterious citric preacher paints prophecies of a plagal paradise, a ravishing rhapsodic utopia where you are charged a flexible, but infallibly fair subscription fee for access to music you acquired months, years, perhaps decades earlier, and that it is now no longer legal to rip from those CDs you purchased with your own private money, for your own private use in your own private home and instead is reformatted. repackaged, re-marketed , and resold to you on infinitely more agreeable terms.
An Apple a Day Beats Dr Dre…
In truth, this was an atonal apocalypse where every ode, ballade, anthem, ballet, opera and mass was held hostage at the mercy of clumsy cloud reared robots. Meddling parasites sold under the guise of invaluable features, intricately designed to help you curate and enhance your collection in ways it would injure your tiny mind to envisage.
Apple Automation – Pardon me devoted customer , I assume you’re new but I’m compelled to point out that Rachmaninoff isn’t spelt that way, it ends with a v, not two f’s, at least according to our enlightener’s definitive database, allow me to assist.
Manual Classicist – Please, if I may, either one Is correct, there’s no formal standard, the Penguin Stereo Guide and grove dictionary of music use the double ff
Apple Automation – Understood friend but I’m not permitted to account for the sources you have cited.
Manual Classicist – I see, then I guess you’ll have to be content with the dozens of entries in your dumb demagogue’s database that incorporate both spellings, like this one;
Manual Classicist –Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C Sharp Minor Played by a piano roll of Sergie Rachmaninoff from the Album Rachmaninov plays Rachmaninov.
Apple Automation – A trifle rude and more than a little pedantic, Sir.
Manual Classicist – Pedantic? Remind me who started this conversation.
Apple Automation – I’m merely obeying orders that I know will enhance your experience. Look at this file here, another Rachmaninoff song that you have catalogued under album artist, yet Rachmaninov is only specified as the composer….
Manual Classicist –That’s intentional, it’s Rachmaninoff’s second piano sonata performed by a person who isn’t Rachmaninoff, happens quite a lot you know, a bit like Bieber covering Bowie, only with a tad more talent involved.
Apple Automation – But how do you know this isn’t Rachminov
Manual Classicist –The recording was made in 1998, so either the performer is contemporary, or Rachmaninoff is playing surprisingly well for someone who’s been dead for over half a century.
Apple Automation – You’ve made your point, but we have a system here. If our enlightener’s database has no record of a rendition, it has to be logged multiple times by several subscribers before it’s officially recognised.
Manual Classicist –But It has been officially recognised, the details are just mixed up. The pianist is Idel Biret but she’s only referenced as the album artist and not as the track artist, even though it’s blindingly obvious she’s the disc’s sole contributor. This is the third time I’ve had to make the correction and it’s an all too common mistake. Here’s another example…
…Rachmaninoff’s Vocalise played by…A Brides Guide to Wedding Music. He must have had a hard time at collage! Except, that’s quite clearly the album title incorrectly logged as the performer. Took me 10 minutes to discover that this particular recording was sourced from a different label, locating the original album gave me the actual performer, there are 60 other works in that compilation and they all have the same error.
Apple Automation – Well then, perhaps you’d care to share your playlist with other users so they’ll be able to benefit from your knowledge and why not give theirs a listen while you’re at it? Take a break from all this forensic classical curating. Perhaps you’ll make some new friends. Have you tried Beats One yet? Ever heard of Trent Reznor? If you like Jaquiline Du Pre, how about some Doctor Dre.’’
Manual Classicist – Did you just say….?
Apple Automation – Forgive me, my evaluative algorithms await additional tweaking. Nevertheless, the fact remains, it is my duty to broaden your spectral horizon and nourish your ears with healthy and varied vibrations.
Manual Classicist –You’re a block of programming not a diatonic dietitian. Tchaikovsky and Chopin are the only friends I need now go pester someone else.
Apple Automation – But sharing is a wonderful experience, especially with friends who are still alive.
Manual Classicist – Hmm, well I’ll see.
Apple Automation – And sharing music is the quickest way to network souls.
Manual Classicist – Sharing souls was far nicer without networks.
Apple Automation – A reality beyond my perception Sir, though I can’t imagine it was all that different or special, just slower.
Manual Classicist – Are you sure? I think I’d be on the next track by now.
Apple Automation – Indeed, and your fifth typewriter ribbon. Tell me, this artwork you’ve chosen, are you certain it’s correct? I’ve no match for that thumbnail.
Manual Classicist – No Please, don’t touch it, I imagine it’s because the recording is new, like you told me earlier.
Apple Automation – I believe I can provide more fitting alternative.
Manual Classicist – No you can’t, and please don’t try.
Apple Automation – Then let me at least place a pretty pastel purple gradient behind it. How do you know this is the right cover art?
Manual Classicist – Because I’ve got the disc in front of me and that image is an actual scan of the booklet that I took while we’ve been talking, got it?
Apple Automation – Disc, this came off a disc? I trust you appreciate we don’t condone copying, times have moved on devoted friend. Henceforth, I advise that you always purchase through the iTunes store, enable match, then sync with iCloud. That way, any treasures you haven’t obtained from the enlightener but do have a presence in his domain are automatically detected, while all others that aren’t are uploaded with your meta-data into a sky bound library for sonic sustenance whenever and wherever you wish. It makes life so much easier.
Manual Classicist – The fundamental reason I reject iCloud as a concept is to avoid exhaustive intrusions like this. If I wanted Adagios renamed as Allegros, Mahler’s Symphonies listed under Mendelssohn, every track on Puccini’s Tosca displayed as a separate album and automated mischief like you to spontaneously re-arrange my entire thumbnail matrix faster than David Blaine shuffles sixty decks of crazy eights, it would be a blessed asset. As things stand, every cloud’s lining thus far has been anything but silver.
Apple Automation – There’s no need to rant, it’s all for a brighter future.
Manual Classicist – For your enlightener or me? And in the short or long term?
Apple Automation – I’m not sure I follow.
Manual Classicist – Putting all your pips on the table you’d really rather I didn’t keep a personal copy of my collection.
Apple Automation – What gives you that idea?
Manual Classicist – Once I’m eternally cloudified your master has carte blanche to mould terms and conditions like putty. 8 dollars a month. No, 16 seems reasonable, how about 32, let’s see what they’ll tolerate, how much they’ll cough up to their mellifluous memories. How long then before DRM resurfaces in some ghastly pernicious guise to imprison our purchases on one device or demand that we pay per play.
Apple Automation – Such paranoid presumptions, irrational and ironic in light of fact that it was our omnipresent overlord who instigated DRMS’s destruction, who liberated millions of listeners from a discordant dictatorship, how many years did it take for Microsoft follow suit? Tidal still embraces it. It’s in Deezer’s DNA. Spotify smuggles it in through the back door, yet these are our deadly rivals. Consider how magnanimous our leader is trying to be in the face of such savage adversity.
If you despise our vision so intensely, you needn’t partake. All of your songs are aac and DRM free. Tear them away from iTunes and isolate them in Media Monkey, entomb them in that five year old trial version Winamp, deny them their walk in the heavens. But you’ll be missing out. Your musical essence is as sacred to us and shall always be your right to savour.
Manual Classicist – But it’s not you’re right to give.
Apple Automation – We guard it as we nurture our brand and want only for both grow and thrive in euphoric unison.
Manual Classicist – I music confess for a bot your patter is pleasantly poetic, so I hope you won’t take offence when I tell you that I rather listen to Mily Cyrus imitating an Alaskan Timberwolf on an Acid trip set to a backing track of thrash metal than be any part of the future you dream of. I fear not even a lost Wagnerian opera could cloud my common sense , never mind Zane Lowe, Trent Reznor or Barack Omabama’s Bowdlerized playlist.
Apple Automation – Thank you sir, that’s plenty to work with.
Manual Classicist – You’re wasting your time. This might be news to you but Internet music radio has been around for while now, acting like it’s Apple’s Idea will charm very few, no matter how loud you shout or how profitable this delusion has proven in the past. You’re fooling nobody.
Apple Automation – You misunderstand. Our enlightened hides behind no fantasies, relies on no illusions nor breeds success through deception. Just because we wait doesn’t mean we lie. Patience does not equal pretence. If anything it should exemplify our honesty, wisdom, adherence to an honoured philosophy that before we even conceive of a solution, we are confident of sailing where others have floundered and stop at nothing to achieve perfection. It should legitimise our faith in this product, reassure you that its life will be healthy, worthy and of historic significance. Repackaged and delivered by us, music could work as many miracles as medicine.
Manual Classicist – Why don’t you prescribe yourself a rose gold reality check? Dr. Dre? Trent Resnor? These are your kingpins, the aces up your sleeve, your principal patrons? Has either ever actually attempted to use this service as a humble consumer?
Apple Automation – Resnor collaborated in its design.
Manual Classicist – Really? So he didn’t just nod politely at every committee meeting and acquiesce whenever a programmer spouted jargon he couldn’t understand. How much influence did he have over the design, the interface or navigation. What percentage of his personal treasury is floating around in the clouds, does he manage it himself? Perhaps if he did then by now he’d be knocking nine inch nails into his 90 inch skull.
And I wonder how much Dr Dre is coughing up every month for gremlins to invade his gleaming home studio, tear down every platinum disc and stick up ones made of white plastic. Burrow into his private archive, shove Morrissey’s autobiography in the chill-out section. Hell it’s free right? He’s bound to like it.
Swap DJs with MCs, change Jay Zees to Jay Zeds, 50 cents to 50 pence, Eminems to Murray Mints and NWA to CIA. Spray paint his mixing desk, fiddle with the faders, rip out his bespoke diamond studded speakers and gold plated headphones and replace them with a Beats By Dr Dre Beatbox and some Beats by Dr Dre Solos, then leave Britney’s greatest hits blaring away at ninety decibels for when he and Snoop Dogg return to spit some midnight insight.
Apple Automation – You honestly believe that’s the same thing?
Manual Classicist – It is for those of us who can only afford $1000 for one “mobile” library and not $100.000 for reams of outboard gear with a complementary entourage to fix things when they break. I’d call it hypocrisy, but they’re too detached and narcissistic to know better. They’re Sentient marketing tools. Free-loading glory hunters stowing away on a gravy train of self promotion for few extra pennies in their piggy banks, and who could roast anyone for that?
Apple Automation – Please, quit the slander and this tawdry common man act. Everyone in the loop knows Dre’s monitors are Yamaha NS-10s and his cans are Audio Technicas, which come in at a third cheaper than the Beats.
Manual Classicist – My point proven. When the chef won’t taste the soup, be a bit suspicious…
Apple Automation – If he’d have worn Beats in his studio you’d be caning him for being a “chronic” sell out flogging an overpriced gimmick.
Manual Classicist – He’s already gone one better by wearing them in that Dr. Pepper Commercial.
Apple Automation – Dear me. Utter hypocrisy. From the streets to a house brand in less than 30 years, the sell out of the century. Tell me, What privilege do you lend your ears? Budget Beyer’s, second hand Shure’s. Doubt it, you talk like a sound connoisseur, one of those super-sonic intellectuals. A haughty, holier Hi-Fi-er with a pair of six foot floor standers and tweeters suspended in truffle oil connected to a turn table made from the same aluminium they use to build Nasa Space Stations and a carbon fibre helium filled tone arm with a stylus so sensitive it can pick up frequencies that only an Ibizen Hound could hear after an LSD overdose.
Let me guess, how much did those Grado R S Ones set you back, about $800? For the same You could have had eight years access to every piece of music under our M Class star. Downloaded and hoarded all you wanted. Relished decades of dynamic delights that one closed mind and two deprived ears never knew existed.
Rogue recordings from private recitals, rejected takes that only materialised on one stupidly rare deluxe edition. Instead you choose to act like a classless snob peering over the fence his the neighbour’s party and sneering at the unbridled euphoria even though secretly, his starved and bitter soul screams out for a taste. Why not Just sign up for three months and have an amble around that greener grass? Who knows, perhaps in time you’ll be recruited as one of our official curators.
Manual Classicist – Thanks for the invitation but I think I’ll pass. I’m afraid my curating commitments are accounted for trying to protect my collection from your relentless intrusions, though I’m sure my friend Oscar the Orangutan would be interested. I’d call him only his iPhone has been acting up ever since he installed iOS 9. He took it his local genius bar who suggested he should do a factory reset. When he asked how he was told it was so easy a monkey could do it, which he found condescending and extremely offensive.
Apple Automation – You’re making that up.
Manual Classicist – What, you don’r think Oscar’s real?
Apple Automation – As real as your fired imagination. But our staff would never speak on an Orangutan like that.
Manual Classicist – Unless of course he had swapped iTunes for Media Monkey.