Adventures with the car stereo
This one I wanted to write about long ago. Thankfully, now I have the time and the effort to do so.
Notice how every car’s driver gets offended when a passenger suddenly turns up the dial, switches stations, or ejects the current CD?
It’s natural. Passengers violate the sacred rule of driving. He who drives, has control of the whole car – acceleration, brakes, door locks, windshield wipers (even the small jet of water from those tiny holes in the hood), and most of all…
The car stereo.
It’s a given. Passengers ride with you, and in return, you get to push the buttons and turn the dials. It’s nothing dictatorial nor despotic. By stepping into the car, they entrust their lives to you, a demigod with a license to plow the streets of EDSA. At the very least, they can show their appreciation by letting you choose The Cure over The Cascades.
My mom is one of those “I bought the car, so I choose the sounds” type of person. She always rants about “sweet music,” but in decades of experience living this life, I have never equated Shirley Bassey, the Conniffs, or even Connie Francis as sweet. Besides, does she expect me to stash CDs of these… these… jukebox artists into my car? What would my other passengers say?
I always keep my stash handy around the car. Nope, the pirated or duplicates stay at home or at the office (save it to your PC), and the original ones are there, conveniently stacked and displayed with your P100 CD case you bought with your SM Advantage points.
Talk about the slow agonizing death of irony by beating it to a pulp and then hooking it up to an IV.
Speaking of CDs, there are 5 stages of appreciating audio discs, or any other form of albums for that matter.
Stage 1: You bought the album for just one song.
(Example: Buying “Dizzy up the Girl” from Goo Goo Dolls, cause you can’t get enough of “Iris.”)
Stage 2: Play the CD, but only the song you want. Set stereo to “Repeat Track.”
(This is the reason why Iris, for that matter, has lost its meaning. So has “More than Words.”)
Stage 3: You are tempted to listen to the whole CD, but instead play your favorite song then forward to the next song that you keep hearing on the radio. Two out of 12 tracks ain’t bad for your P450 investment.
(Enough of Iris – let’s play Slide.)
Stage 4: You realize that almost all the songs aren’t bad at all. They even sound cool.
(U2’s Achtung Baby is a prime example. No leftovers here if you care to listen to it in full)
Stage 5: Listening over and over again, you realize that there is a better song than the original reason you bought it. This becomes your new favorite.
(I like “The Acrobat” better than "One," and “Black Balloon” over “Iris.”)
And there you have it. You wouldn’t trade the CD you bought for an action figure you couldn’t buy. Especially after a year or so and it’s now hard to buy.
Notice how every car’s driver gets offended when a passenger suddenly turns up the dial, switches stations, or ejects the current CD?
It’s natural. Passengers violate the sacred rule of driving. He who drives, has control of the whole car – acceleration, brakes, door locks, windshield wipers (even the small jet of water from those tiny holes in the hood), and most of all…
The car stereo.
It’s a given. Passengers ride with you, and in return, you get to push the buttons and turn the dials. It’s nothing dictatorial nor despotic. By stepping into the car, they entrust their lives to you, a demigod with a license to plow the streets of EDSA. At the very least, they can show their appreciation by letting you choose The Cure over The Cascades.
My mom is one of those “I bought the car, so I choose the sounds” type of person. She always rants about “sweet music,” but in decades of experience living this life, I have never equated Shirley Bassey, the Conniffs, or even Connie Francis as sweet. Besides, does she expect me to stash CDs of these… these… jukebox artists into my car? What would my other passengers say?
I always keep my stash handy around the car. Nope, the pirated or duplicates stay at home or at the office (save it to your PC), and the original ones are there, conveniently stacked and displayed with your P100 CD case you bought with your SM Advantage points.
Talk about the slow agonizing death of irony by beating it to a pulp and then hooking it up to an IV.
Speaking of CDs, there are 5 stages of appreciating audio discs, or any other form of albums for that matter.
Stage 1: You bought the album for just one song.
(Example: Buying “Dizzy up the Girl” from Goo Goo Dolls, cause you can’t get enough of “Iris.”)
Stage 2: Play the CD, but only the song you want. Set stereo to “Repeat Track.”
(This is the reason why Iris, for that matter, has lost its meaning. So has “More than Words.”)
Stage 3: You are tempted to listen to the whole CD, but instead play your favorite song then forward to the next song that you keep hearing on the radio. Two out of 12 tracks ain’t bad for your P450 investment.
(Enough of Iris – let’s play Slide.)
Stage 4: You realize that almost all the songs aren’t bad at all. They even sound cool.
(U2’s Achtung Baby is a prime example. No leftovers here if you care to listen to it in full)
Stage 5: Listening over and over again, you realize that there is a better song than the original reason you bought it. This becomes your new favorite.
(I like “The Acrobat” better than "One," and “Black Balloon” over “Iris.”)
And there you have it. You wouldn’t trade the CD you bought for an action figure you couldn’t buy. Especially after a year or so and it’s now hard to buy.
Comments