Extracts

The Pod that Changed the World

By Lauren Daley
Standard-Times staff writer
April 15, 2007

There have been millions of stupid inventions. (The automatic banana peeler. For real.)

There have been countless mediocre inventions. (Shampoo and conditioner in one bottle. Are there really that many people who think two bottles are too complicated?)

And then, once in a blue moon, there comes along a WGI. (A Wicked Good Invention.)

WGIs change the way we live. They make us wonder how society ever functioned in their absence.

Refrigerators.

Blue jeans.

The toothbrush.

iPods. iPods are wicked WGIs.

As of last Monday, Apple had sold 100 million iPods worldwide, making the device the fastest-selling music player in history, since it debuted in November 2001. (To compare, it took Sony a decade to sell 50 million Walkmen.)

Whether you own one or not, you can't deny that this invention has forever changed the way the world listens to music.

"iPods are the future of music," said Wayne Rego, 35, of New Bedford.

"Record companies need to just accept it and stop making CDs. They should start doing downloads only. Then they'll see their sales go up."

For the three of you who don't know, iPods can store all of your music.

Like, all of it.

Unlike the archaic Walkman, where you put in one disc or tape at a time, the iPod can hold an entire music library.

You copy CDs into your computer using iTunes, or you can buy almost any song or album you can think of at the online iTunes Music Store, which is open 24/7, and features more than 3.5 million 99-cent songs, 65,000 free podcasts, 20,000 audiobooks, 200 TV shows, movies and iPod games.

Mr. Rego said he has a second-generation 60 MB iPod, which holds some 2,000 songs.

There are now five generations and close to 30 models of the iPod. The latest is an 80 GB iPod that holds a seemingly endless supply of music — 20,000 songs or approximately 2,000 CDs.

Apple had the brilliant idea for the first digital music player, and the iPod still dominates over 75 percent of the market for portable digital media players.

But even MP3 players, widely seen as subpar to the pods, are still referred to as "iPods" — kind of like how all tissues are called Kleenex.

"I don't waste my time even looking at the imitations. I only hear bad things about them. Right now, there is nothing that can compare to the iPod," said Jared Vasconcellos, 23, of New Bedford.

Jared is an iPod repairman, and has fixed some 50 iPods since opening his own business four years ago. He's also a sign and poster printer.

"The simplicity of it is what makes it so great — four little buttons and all the music you own is in the palm of your hands," he said.

Jared owns two of the players — a 2 GB iPod nano, which holds some 500 songs, and a 30 GB video iPod, on which he has stored 5,092 songs and 33 movies.

Kate Amorin, 21, who works at Newbury Comics in Dartmouth, also has a 30 GB colour-screen video iPod.

"They can fit infinite amounts of music, they don't skip and you don't have to buy CDs. And they're very personal."

Because each iPod contains one person's unique taste in music, the pods are intimately tailored to their user. And because they're relatively expensive (ranging from $150 to $350), they're also valued dearly.

That's why there are over 4,000 iPod accessories — only a fraction of which are actually made by Apple, which speaks to the popularity of the thing. There are even clothing and sneakers designed specifically for the device. The market has been dubbed the "iPod ecosystem."

At Best Buy in Dartmouth, there are three racks of iPod accessories, including Liz Claiborne's line of pink and leopard-skin iPod skins, plastic iPod shells, leather iPod cases, video iPod protectors, coloured earbuds, surround-sound earbuds, headphones, car chargers, armbands, remote controls, and a road-trip transmitter among them.

Those are just the decorations.

Then there's the iPod portable entertainment centre, the 7-inch wide-screen display for iPod videos, the home iPod speakers, stereo docks, a clock-radio and the $350 hi-fi speaker.

"I have different skins, different headphones. And I have the car cradle, to listen in the car," Ms. Amorin said.

If you only have a CD player in your car, you can buy a car adapter at any electronic store, but actually, more than 70 percent of new U.S. cars now offer an iPod connection, according to Apple.

BMW was the first to do so, but now companies from Honda to Nissan offer iPod hookups. Scion offers them standard in every car.

"I also have the armband for when I work out, but I don't have the Nike shoes," Ms. Amorin said.

She's referring to the "Nike+" line of running shoes, which have a built-in pocket where you slip a sensor holding your iPod nano before a run.

After your workout, a performance summary appears on your iPod nano screen — distance, time, pace and calories burned — and can be heard through the headphones.

There's also the $248 "play list jacket," now in most Express Men stores.

The jacket debuted last month and it looks just like any other men's suit — but it has a hidden pocket for an iPod, loops to hide the earbud wires and, according to clothing manufacturer Bagir's Web site, "soft-touch command controls on the left sleeve or front breast lapel."

But iPods aren't just for young hipsters on the cutting edge of technology.

"I've even had customers in their late 50s or 60s," said Mr. Vasconcellos. "A lot of times with older people, they're stuck in their ways. They don't want a computer or cell phone ... But I think the iPod will only get more popular."

According to Gramophone, a classical music Web site geared towards mostly older adults, 75 percent of those surveyed used iPods or other MP3 players and 57 percent had bought a song online. People 50 and older bought an average of 11.5 songs each on the Internet in 2006.

People of all ages are eagerly awaiting the iPhone, which Apple and Cingular Wireless will debut in June.

The iPhone — which looks to be the mother of all cell phones — combines a cell phone, a widescreen iPod with touch controls, the Internet and access to your personal e-mail into one teeny device.

The 4GB is $499 and the 8GB is $599.

When asked if she would buy the iPhone, Ms. Amorin laughed, "I wish. I have a Sidekick (e-mail and phone in one), but I'd love to have that thing."

Mr. Vasconcellos predicted that the phone will drop in price after it's been on the market for a while.

"iPods and iPhones will keep progressing to another level. They'll get smaller and smaller. Sooner or later, we won't have a cell phone or an iPod. We'll have these little things on our key chains, with wireless headphones in our ears."

This extract is taken from a novel called “Kim”, written by Rudyard Kipling and first published in 1901. It tells the story of a young boy who travels with a Priest (called a Lama) across India, on a religious and personal quest. In this passage, they see a regiment of Irish soldiers called The Mavericks setting up camp.

They came out on a broad tract of grazing-ground, brown and purple in the afternoon light, with a heavy clump of mangoes in the centre. It struck Kim as curious that no shrine stood in so eligible a spot: the boy was observing as any priest for these things. Far across the plain walked side by side four men, made small by the distance. He looked intently under his curved palms and caught the sheen of brass.

'Soldiers. White soldiers!' said he. 'Let us see.'

'It is always soldiers when thou and I go out alone together. But I have never seen the white soldiers.'

'They do no harm except when they are drunk. Keep behind this tree.'

They stepped behind the thick trunks in the cool dark of the mango-grove. Two little figures halted; the other two came forward uncertainly. They were the advance-party of a regiment on the march, sent out, as usual, to mark the camp. They bore five-foot sticks with fluttering flags, and called to each other as they spread over the flat earth.

At last they entered the mango-grove, walking heavily.

'It's here or hereabouts - officers' tents under the trees, I take it, an' the rest of us can stay outside. Have they marked out for the baggage-wagons behind?'

They cried again to their comrades in the distance, and the rough answer came back faint and mellowed.

'Shove the flag in here, then,' said one.

'What do they prepare?' said the lama, wonderstruck. 'This is a great and terrible world. What is the device on the flag?'

A soldier thrust a stave within a few feet of them, grunted discontentedly, pulled it up again, conferred with his companion, who looked up and down the shaded cave of greenery, and returned it.

Kim stared with all his eyes, his breath coming short and sharp between his teeth. The soldiers stamped off into the sunshine.

'O Holy One!' he gasped. 'My horoscope! The drawing in the dust by the priest at Umballa! Remember what he said. First come two-ferashes - to make all things ready - in a dark place, as it is always at the beginning of a vision.'

'But this is not vision,' said the lama. 'It is the world's Illusion, and no more.'

'And after them comes the Bull - the Red Bull on the green field. Look! It is he!'

He pointed to the flag that was snap-snapping in the evening breeze not ten feet away. It was no more than an ordinary camp marking-flag; but the regiment, always punctilious in matters of millinery, had charged it with the regimental device, the Red Bull, which is the crest of the Mavericks - the great Red Bull on a background of Irish green.

'I see, and now I remember.' said the lama. 'Certainly it is thy Bull. Certainly, also, the two men came to make all ready.'

'They are soldiers - white soldiers. What said the priest? "The sign over against the Bull is the sign of War and armed men." Holy One, this thing touches my Search.'

'True. It is true.' The lama stared fixedly at the device that flamed like a ruby in the dusk. 'The priest at Umballa said that thine was the sign of War.'

'What is to do now?'

'Wait. Let us wait.'

'Even now the darkness clears" said Kim. It was only natural that the descending sun should at last strike through the tree-trunks, across the grove, filling it with mealy gold light for a few minutes; but to Kim it was the crown of the Umballa Brahmin's prophecy.

'Hark!' said the lama. 'One beats a drum - far off!'

At first the sound, carrying diluted through the still air, resembled the beating of an artery in the head. Soon a sharpness was added.

'Ah! The music,' Kim explained. He knew the sound of a regimental band, but it amazed the Lama.

At the far end of the plain a heavy, dusty column crawled in sight. Then the wind brought the tune:

We crave your condescension
To tell you what we know
Of marching in the Mulligan Guards
To Sligo Port below!

Here broke in the shrill-tongued fifes:

We shouldered arms,
We marched - we marched away.
From Phoenix Park
We marched to Dublin Bay.
The drums and the fifes,
Oh, sweetly they did play,
As we marched - marched - marched - with the
Mulligan Guards!

It was the band of the Mavericks playing the regiment to camp; for the men were route-marching with their baggage. The rippling column swung into the level - carts behind it divided left and right, ran about like an ant-hill, and ...

'But this is sorcery!' said the Lama.

The plain dotted itself with tents that seemed to rise, all spread, from the carts. Another rush of men invaded the grove, pitched a huge tent in silence, ran up yet eight or nine more by the side of it, unearthed cooking-pots, pans, and bundles, which were taken possession of by a crowd of native servants; and behold the mango-tope turned into an orderly town as they watched!

'Let us go,' said the Lama, sinking back afraid, as the fires twinkled and white officers with jingling swords stalked into the Mess-tent.

'Stand back in the shadow. No one can see beyond the light of a fire,' said Kim, his eyes still on the flag. He had never before watched the routine of a seasoned regiment pitching camp in thirty minutes.

This extract is taken from chapter 13, ‘The Old Curiosity Shop’ written by Charles Dickens.

Daniel Quilp of Tower Hill, and Sampson Brass of Bevis Marks in the city of London, Gentleman, one of her Majesty's attorneys of the Courts of the King's Bench and Common Pleas at Westminster and a solicitor of the High Court of Chancery, slumbered on, unconscious and unsuspicious of any mischance, until a knocking on the street door, often repeated and gradually mounting up from a modest single rap to a perfect battery of knocks, fired in long discharges with a very short interval between, caused the said Daniel Quilp to struggle in to a horizontal position, and to stare at the ceiling with a drowsy indifference, betokening that he heard the noise and rather wondered at the same, and couldn't be at the trouble of bestowing any further thought upon the subject.

As the knocking, however, instead of accommodating itself to his lazy state, increased in vigour and became more importunate, as if in earnest remonstrance against his falling asleep again, now that he had once opened his eyes, Daniel Quilp began by degrees to comprehend the possibility of there being somebody at the door; and thus he gradually came to recollect that it was Friday morning, and he had ordered Mrs Quilp to be in waiting upon him at an early hour.

Mr Brass, after writhing about, in a great many strange attitudes, and often twisting his face and eyes into an expression like that which is usually produced by eating gooseberries very early in the season, was by this time awake also. Seeing that Mr Quilp invested himself in his every-day garments, he hastened to do the like, putting on his shoes before his stockings, and thrusting his legs into his coat sleeves, and making such other small mistakes in his toilet as are not uncommon to those who dress in a hurry, and labour under the agitation of having been suddenly roused. While the attorney was thus engaged, the dwarf was groping under the table, muttering desperate imprecations on himself, and mankind in general, and all inanimate objects to boot, which suggested to Mr Brass the question, 'what's the matter?'

'The key,' said the dwarf, looking viciously about him, 'the door-key -- that's the matter. D'ye know anything of it?'

'How should I know anything of it, sir?' returned Mr Brass.

'How should you?' repeated Quilp with a sneer. 'You're a nice lawyer, aren't you? Ugh, you idiot!'

Not caring to represent to the dwarf in his present humour, that the loss of a key by another person could scarcely be said to affect his (Brass's) legal knowledge in any material degree, Mr Brass humbly suggested that it must have been forgotten over night, and was, doubtless, at that moment in its native key-hole. Notwithstanding that Mr Quilp had a strong conviction to the contrary, founded on his recollection of having carefully taken it out, he was fain to admit that this was possible, and therefore went grumbling to the door, where, sure enough, he found it.

Now, just as Mr Quilp laid his hand upon the lock, and saw with great astonishment that the fastenings were undone, the knocking came again with the most irritating violence, and the daylight which had been shining through the key-hole was intercepted on the outside by a human eye. The dwarf was very much exasperated, and wanting somebody to wreak his ill-humour upon, determined to dart out suddenly, and favour Mrs Quilp with a gentle acknowledgment of her attention in making that hideous uproar.

With this view, he drew back the lock very silently and softly, and opening the door all at once, pounced out upon the person on the other side, who had at that moment raised the knocker for another application, and at whom the dwarf ran head first: throwing out his hands and feet together, and biting the air in the fullness of his malice.

So far, however, from rushing upon somebody who offered no resistance and implored his mercy, Mr Quilp was no sooner in the arms of the individual whom he had taken for his wife than he found himself complimented with two staggering blows on the head, and two more, of the same quality, in the chest; and closing with his assailant, such a shower of buffets rained down upon his person as sufficed to convince him that he was in skilful and experienced hands. Nothing daunted by this reception, he clung tight to his opponent, and bit and hammered away with such good-will and heartiness, that it was at least a couple of minutes before he was dislodged. Then, and not until then, Daniel Quilp found himself, all flushed and dishevelled, in the middle of the street, with Mr Richard Swiveller performing a kind of dance round him and requiring to know 'whether he wanted anymore?'

'There's plenty more of it at the same shop,' said Mr Swiveller, by turns advancing and retreating in a threatening attitude, 'a large and extensive assortment always on hand -- country orders executed with promptitude and despatch -- will you have a little more, Sir -- don't say no, if you'd rather not.'

'I thought it was somebody else,' said Quilp, rubbing his shoulders, 'why didn't you say who you were?'

'Why didn't you say who YOU were?' returned Dick, 'instead of flying out of the house like a Bedlamite?'

'It was you that -- that knocked,' said the dwarf, getting up with a short groan, 'was it?'

'Yes, I am the man,' replied Dick. 'That lady had begun when I came, but she knocked too soft, so I relieved her. 'As he said this, he pointed towards Mrs Quilp, who stood trembling at a little distance.

'Humph!' muttered the dwarf, darting an angry look at his wife, 'I thought it was your fault! And you, sir -- don't you know there has been somebody ill here, that you knock as if you'd beat the door down?'

'Damme!' answered Dick, 'that's why I did it. I thought there was somebody dead here.'