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iPod Spears the Nostalgic Heart

I was a late converter to the iPod. The download generation is inherently lazy; there is no appreciation of the physical artefact, there is a distraction from the moment at hand – always.
But then, I now seem to increasingly NEED distraction from the moment at hand – on with the shades, in with the ear plugs – suddenly out of reach of the world – suddenly free to continue brooding.
One of the most significant impacts of song shuffling once you have a good 20GB of material in there is that you can be taken blind and speared by something that meant so much so long ago and had slipped your mind. This happened this evening when I was walking down The Mound when American Music Club’s Mom’s TV – from the Engine album – slowly unfolded into the earpieces. The years rolled away, and all critical faculties were suspended. How nice to hear such sharply focused song writing – before Mark Eitzel became dulled by alcoholic self pity and self absorption but close enough to disintegration to still be able to report back with authenticity, insight and emotional devastation.
The song, the piece of music, the well turned line set to melody – whether living in the memory or blasting through the headset ALWAYS has the power to change psychological state – immediately and completely. No dialogue, no discussion. A pure surge of memory, experience, emotional response and desire.

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