the metafictional blues

Call me anything you want to, baby.

I wonder how many times I can listen to the extended original version of Wham!’s “I’m Your Man” … we’re about to find out.

I need to work on my Dixie, I guess. I am really not just whistling it, either.

Let’s get this out of the way — I generally don’t like stuff. I’m irritable, irrational and contrary. I usually don’t like people telling me what to do or how to do it and I certainly can’t stand the idea that we all have to bow down to the same crap just because “it’s cool, man”. Whatever.

I do like music — a lot — and one of the best things about the tech-crazed world in which we live is the ability to access and sample any kind of music you can think of. Any time you want. Want to hear David Hasselhoff singing in German? You got it. Want to watch a Carl Lewis music video? No problem! Need to get the extended remix version of “Rock Me, Amadeus”? Right this way, sir. Have to have the most obscure tribal music played only on antique instruments? You’re in luck. You can be as eclectic, hip or helplessly lame as you want to be in the comfort of your own home, in the middle of the night and it’s really only limited by your imagination (well, that and your connection speed and how much you’re willing to pay).

Huzzah, internets! But that’s not the point. The problem has been that while stuff is out there waiting for you to pluck it off the magical music tree, it’s been a real pain in the ass to get what you want, the way that you want it and be able to do what you want with it. I’ve downloaded music in a variety of formats over the years, in a variety of ways for a lot of different prices. I’ve tried just about every media player there is, to varying degrees of success, and several different portable devices as well. (We won’t even get into my bitter jihad against Jobs and the amazing Technicolor iPod. Because well, I think we can do better than what Macy Gray tells us and I think I’m starting to feel nauseous over all the smack everyone talks about this crap while slurring out of the other side of their mouths about other proprietary formats that are “just wrong, man”. )Ahem … moving on. The truth is, I just haven’t found one thing that seems to really work best for me. Until now.

{cue ray of heaven effect}

You’ve probably read a lot of the reviews and news blurbs on Yahoo’s new music service and accompanying player — the Yahoo! Music Engine. You may be thinking “why do we need yet another crazy music thing to confuse us?” or “man, who does Yahoo! think they are?”. I kind of thought the same thing, but I did some reading and just decided I’d give it a shot. I’m happy to report my brain hasn’t exploded nor has my computer spontaneously turned to liquid. In fact, I am really enjoying the service and the player (currently using the 7 day free trial, but I am pretty sure I’m going to keep the service). I will even go as far to say that, for me, it’s above and beyond the other music stores and players I’ve tried. It works, it’s simple and it has great plugins and features. That work. Some people have complained “yeah well it doesn’t do this” or “wah it makes my computer run slowly”. These are also the people who are still surprised that AOL customer support doesn’t come to help them clean out the refrigerator. Well ok, maybe I’m being just a little dramatic, but you get my point. I’m sure there are some for whom this isn’t the best option. But for me, it’s great, I love it and I think you should try it. And then you can click my playlist feeds (in the right column over there) and check out what I’m listening to. I’m working on getting another “now playing” feed to display what I’m currently listening to right on this page. My old list was generated from Windows Media Player and Audioscrobbler — so if anyone knows how to duplicate this feature in the YME, please let me know.

I’m throwing out the iTunes, the Napster, the everything else and saving only the YME (with the unlimited service) and my WMP for now (because I still need it for other things, yo). If you have no idea what I’m talking about, read this, then think about checking it out here for information on downloading the player and using the Unlimited service.

That is all.

(Disclaimer: I am not getting a kickback. I do not work for Yahoo!, David Hasselhoff or Carl Lewis. Falco is dead. I’m sorry to tell you that. I cannot guarantee the YME and unlimited service will work for you how you want it to work. I do not know if this meshes well with the iPod, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. I have no idea if the iPod Shuffle is related to the Curly Shuffle or the Super Bowl Shuffle. Do not post crap here about how I’ve got it all wrong, man. Suck it up and get back to your Final Fantasy 4 tournament. )

The Locust Tree in Flower

Among
of
green

stiff
old
bright

broken
branch
come

white
sweet
May

again

– William Carlos Williams

This week the air has been thick with the scent of locust trees flowering and I’m hit with the sweetness of this May ritual each time I step outside. Clumps of white hang heavy on unassuming branches and swing along the treeline. This could easily go unnoticed, in and out with every breath … as if it were always like this, heady, tinged with something intangible, unrecognizable but familiar. Spring is waning just as fast as it arrived and it suddenly feels like deja vu, like something I ached to name but never knew before, and May is like this when green seems greener and the breeze kicks up and dies down just in front of where I stand. It seems remarkable and I can be fooled into thinking this is a new experience. I’ve peeked through a curtain and discovered something I’ve overlooked and it is then that I am hit with a memory that rushes in faster than the scent that inspired it. I realize that May is not being discovered by me, but rather I am being discovered by this. I’ve lived this moment before, in another life, another world. This moment where the locusts lace their way into summer and petals are falling in clusters, like bunches of grapes and we pick them up like treasures and pull them down like snow. And we squirelled them away like popcorn, like magic, like perfume along a treeline, along a fence row, along a dead end road somewhere long forgotten and recollected again in my past so many years ago.