Last February, I summarized a lively discussion between three bloggers about the sound quality in MP3 files -- the format used in the oh-so-ubiquitous iPods.
In the spirit of Lieutenant Tragg (who always required his memory to be refreshed by Perry Mason), you can find part of the discussion at let me help you with that, little lady.
The gist of the conversation was that some people are willing to give up sound quality for the ease of music portability.
I am not one of those people. And that was one of the dilemmas I faced in moving to Mexico with my limited space for my possessions.
I was raised on live music. There is something about a live, non-amplified performance that cannot be reproduced electronically.
Add a microphone, the sound changes.
Record it in analogue, the sound degrades a bit.
Digitize it, more of the sound disappears.
Then compress that digital version into an MP3 file, and much that was magic in the live performance is simply gone -- as if it disappeared up Mandrake's sleeve.
I added the analogue step to simply note that I was a late adopter of CDs. My vinyl collection provided a far richer sound -- even with the occasional nick.
But I eventually switched over to CDs in the late 1980s -- fully realizing the limitations of the medium.
I have not been able to switch over to MP3 players, however.
When I moved to Mexico, I left behind my Bose 901 surround system. Instead, I have a small Sony system attached to my laptop. But, I did bring all of my CDs and DVDs in their full formats.
In August, I told you in the devil wore behringer that my friend Jordan had purchased a full set of Behringer studio monitors. (That is him at the top of the post standing next to one of the speakers.)
He brought the full set to my house to let me experience them for the two weeks I was in Oregon last month. If I could get the full set down here, I would have bought a set for myself. They are great.
But, as good as the speakers are (or because they are so good), we could easily hear the damage that compression causes with MP3 files.
On Monday afternoon, I drove to Manzanillo to pick up my mail. I purposely dug out several CDs of music from the 1960s -- the same music I had originally purchased on vinyl. The two hours I spent in the truck, I simply enjoyed cranking up both the stereo and the air conditioner -- and driving at least 20 miles an hour too fast.
It felt great. And the music sounded real good.
Something must have put me in an almost giddy mood (and I suspect I know what it is). Because when I came home, I slapped on a Latin-themed piece of music from Epcot (Fountain of Nations), and rumbaed my legs off in my boxers on the balcony. That should give the neighbors something to talk about.
So, where is the theme in this little essay?
I guess it is as simple as this. It is possible to get just too sophisticated and jaded with life. I love analyzing and deconstructing. And very few things most of us enjoy can withstand that type of scrutiny.
Sometimes, it helps to simply put down the tools and enjoy life with its simple pleasures.
In the spirit of Lieutenant Tragg (who always required his memory to be refreshed by Perry Mason), you can find part of the discussion at let me help you with that, little lady.
The gist of the conversation was that some people are willing to give up sound quality for the ease of music portability.
I am not one of those people. And that was one of the dilemmas I faced in moving to Mexico with my limited space for my possessions.
I was raised on live music. There is something about a live, non-amplified performance that cannot be reproduced electronically.
Add a microphone, the sound changes.
Record it in analogue, the sound degrades a bit.
Digitize it, more of the sound disappears.
Then compress that digital version into an MP3 file, and much that was magic in the live performance is simply gone -- as if it disappeared up Mandrake's sleeve.
I added the analogue step to simply note that I was a late adopter of CDs. My vinyl collection provided a far richer sound -- even with the occasional nick.
But I eventually switched over to CDs in the late 1980s -- fully realizing the limitations of the medium.
I have not been able to switch over to MP3 players, however.
When I moved to Mexico, I left behind my Bose 901 surround system. Instead, I have a small Sony system attached to my laptop. But, I did bring all of my CDs and DVDs in their full formats.
In August, I told you in the devil wore behringer that my friend Jordan had purchased a full set of Behringer studio monitors. (That is him at the top of the post standing next to one of the speakers.)
He brought the full set to my house to let me experience them for the two weeks I was in Oregon last month. If I could get the full set down here, I would have bought a set for myself. They are great.
But, as good as the speakers are (or because they are so good), we could easily hear the damage that compression causes with MP3 files.
On Monday afternoon, I drove to Manzanillo to pick up my mail. I purposely dug out several CDs of music from the 1960s -- the same music I had originally purchased on vinyl. The two hours I spent in the truck, I simply enjoyed cranking up both the stereo and the air conditioner -- and driving at least 20 miles an hour too fast.
It felt great. And the music sounded real good.
Something must have put me in an almost giddy mood (and I suspect I know what it is). Because when I came home, I slapped on a Latin-themed piece of music from Epcot (Fountain of Nations), and rumbaed my legs off in my boxers on the balcony. That should give the neighbors something to talk about.
So, where is the theme in this little essay?
I guess it is as simple as this. It is possible to get just too sophisticated and jaded with life. I love analyzing and deconstructing. And very few things most of us enjoy can withstand that type of scrutiny.
Sometimes, it helps to simply put down the tools and enjoy life with its simple pleasures.
I certainly did that on Monday.
Of course, it would look a little less awkward if I actually had a dance partner.
Applications are available in the foyer.
Note:
Of course, it would look a little less awkward if I actually had a dance partner.
Applications are available in the foyer.
Note:
Simply to prove that I have not abandoned every shred of pretension, you can hear an extremely compressed MP3 file of Fountain of Nations by clicking the link. You may get a feel for the beat, but not the beauty.
