Word: ipodding
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...admire your style but I can’t be doing shit...I mean stuff like that.” With a crumpling flourish, he withdrew his sandwich. The next part of this story is completely true and wholly unexpected. Putting his little-person hand on my iPod (which was on the bench next to me), he said “I’m gonna chuck this shit.” “No you’re not,” I said, only half-seriously because I couldn’t possibly anticipate what was going...
...forcibly stop this little kid I didn’t know, and I still half thought that he was faking. Some gasping syllable came out of my mouth just as I felt a tug on the still-connected headphones around my neck, and the release as momentum freed the iPod. It hit a metal trash can straight on, then skidded off into the street making with a sound like a row of people dropping their cell phones one after the other. None of this happened in slo-motion...
...street and the kid ran away, fast. I’m pretty sure I heard him say “I can’t believe I just did that,” but that might have just been me projecting my thoughts. Just before I reached my iPod, a heavily tattooed guy with a ZZ-Top beard picked it off the floor and gave it a look. “It’s okay man...I secretly listen to Norah Jones...
...before the album’s release decided to scrap the meticulously-recorded studio cuts in favor of live 4-track recordings. The result was what one would expect when condensing a room full of pummeling drums and gut-wrenching bass amplifiers down to anemic laptop speakers, tinny iPod headphones, or muddy home stereos: while it reminded a lucky few of that crazy show they saw in a dirty Providence loft, to the rest of us it sounded underpowered and underwhelming. Subsequent releases improved the recording quality, but still sought to capture the spontaneity of a live show, using very...
...usual, the bedroom is a giant, open and sparsely decorated space. In addition to the photographs of old Hungarian relatives and current family members, a sleek iPod player graces the resting chamber...