I Only Need 7.1 Channels Atmos

On a slow summer evening in Chennai some years ago I decided to watch a movie by myself, not because I was particularly bored or particularly interested in the movie that was playing, but because I was standing right outside one of the very few cinemas in southern India that featured Dolby Atmos. The logo was bright and shiny and it called to me.

I’d already read up plenty about Atmos by then to know it was too good an opportunity to pass up. It’s Dolby’s most recent surround sound technology which builds on traditional 5.1/7.1-channel setups to create up to 128 channels using as many as 64 speakers. Frankly, I wasn’t left impressed after the experience. The sound felt just the same as a traditional 7.1-channel setup or maybe even duller somehow. However, I gave it the benefit of the doubt and assumed the movie I watched—the third instalment of Night at the Museum—had no spectacular sound effects in it.

I’ve just tried Atmos again; I’ve just watched Black Panther, the latest action superhero film from the Marvel universe, and I must say: it’s still rather underwhelming. The sound isn’t particularly clearer or even better spread-out. Even when I consciously strained my attention towards the direction of the sound, it was hard to tell if any of the overhead speakers were firing at all. Atmos also makes the sound feel more attenuated. I was frequently left wanting more loudness and a clearer distinction between the low, mid, and high frequencies.

Sigh! Perhaps Dolby Atmos will wow me someday soon, but at the moment I can’t say I feel any difference. I think I’ll stick with the good old 7.1s than pay an extra hundred rupees for that bright shiny logo. 

Until next time...

Vignesh

iCame. iSaw. iPod.

I was probably thirteen when I first heard of the iPod. Back then, in the early 2000s, the concept of an ‘MP3 player’ had already realised, even if only just, and had found its way into the hands of early adopters. Given that Apple was still a hardcore computer manufacturer then, their announcement of the iPod didn’t exactly tickle my curiosity.

However, when my uncle—the most avant-garde tech user of my family—bought an iPod mini to replace his gum pack-like Philips music player some years later, I got a chance to give it a whirl. To my surprise, the device left me thoroughly impressed. In the flesh the device was radically much cooler than what I’d seen in tech articles. It was made mostly of shiny anodised aluminium. It employed a tiny four-gigabyte hard drive to store songs. And the interface included the famous Click Wheel. Having only used a dull, unresponsive trackpad on laptops before, I was blown by this magic wheel of speed and tactility. With other music players the volume of sound was usually just about adequate for earphones and most definitely inadequate for large headphones, but here, with the iPod, there was a surfeit. Apple seemed to have included an amplifier powerful enough to slake the desires of every head-banger in the 2000s. It was properly awesome.

Before I knew it, the iPod had become a huge rave in India. It was without a doubt first a badge of coolness and then a music player. In college you either had an iPod or you didn’t; any other brand of portable music player just didn’t cut it. I was graduating high school then, and predictably, I didn’t own one. Instead I sported a Philips GoGear that had almost a gigabyte of flash storage and sounded decent. While it certainly beat carrying the cumbersome CD Walkman around, I knew I had to get my hands on an iPod.

It was around that time the new iPod nano was set to go on sale. Successor to the iPod mini, it was about the size of a pocket mirror, offered up to eight gigabytes of flash storage, and was the first model capable of playing videos. I tried my luck when my dad made a business trip to the US. I innocently offered that it might be cheaper to buy an iPod there than in India. To my great surprise, he agreed!

My dad returned to his hotel room from the nearby Target store and phoned me to tell me that he’d bought it. I was thoroughly ecstatic, but I could sense that he shared little of my emotion. I particularly remember how chagrined he was that the iPod had powered on fine but had shipped with no sample songs with which to test the audio playback. Instead the matchbox of a device demanded that it be connected to something called iTunes to sync music. He added gruffly, ‘149 dollars and nothing in it to play!’ or words to that effect. I quietly chuckled.

When I finally had the iPod in my hands I fiddled with it for hours on end. I’d play some music. I’d tweak the equaliser. I’d try another pair of earphones. I’d download some free movie trailers from iTunes and watch those. Heck I’d even sync contacts and notes from my Outlook to see how they appeared on the tiny display.

Today—ten years on—it’s still alive, and is my constant companion to the gym every morning. The display has formed a few vertical lines and the battery runs down more frequently, but other than that, she sings just fine. These days though, I simply turn on the iPod while entering the gym, listen to an audiobook for about fifty minutes, and then turn it off as I get into the car.

Apple announced last month that they would no longer sell the iPod nano and the iPod shuffle, making the iPod touch the last standing iPod model. Bearing in mind that the iPod touch is practically an iPhone sans the mobile module, it’s safe to say that the iPod brand is dead.

Is it a bad idea? No, not really. I’m actually surprised that Apple decided to keep the product alive for so long amidst smartphones and Android-based music players. People have long since stopped connecting their devices to their computers to ‘sync’ media. Online music is the norm.

Will I lament its death? Yes, but to be more specific, it’s not the product I’ll miss so much as the concept, and the company’s ability to wow the world with a new generation of meaner and sleeker devices every few years. The iPod started life looking like a brick with a tiny display and a capacitive wheel on it, but over the years assumed more diminutive forms.

The first generation iPod shuffle was the size of a glue stick tube and had a full-size USB connector. With the second generation, they ditched the USB connector altogether and found a way to sync media using only the 3.5mm audio jack. This allowed them to make the shuffle really compact and even clippable, just like a clothes peg. And suddenly you wore an iPod, and not carried one around. It’s this sort of innovation that made me believe Apple products were seriously cool.

Don’t get me wrong though. Apple still makes cool (and shamelessly expensive) products, but it’s just that a great deal of innovation these days is fixed on that one device that eclipses all other material things in our daily lives. With our entire collection of music now living along with our emails, texts, and videos of cats falling into the sink, I fear that a tangible identity for music and music lovers is lost for good.

Owning a mobile phone was pretty much a necessity even ten or fifteen years ago, whereas owning an iPod was not. But if you owned one, it meant that you loved music enough to invest in the one of the top portable music players in the market. The iPod was to music lovers what the Xbox and the PlayStation is to gamers—a way of identifying themselves in a crowd that either loves music or is indifferent to it. In the US you could order an iPod from the Apple Store with a custom message laser-engraved on the back, making the iPod a very personal and special music device. Fans of the popular American TV show, The Office, might recognise its romantic element in the show, where Jim and Pam, the prime couple, share a pivotal scene with one.

The iPod’s presence showed even while buying complementing audio gear. You could rest assured that car stereos and home theatres that bore the ‘Made for iPod’ label on their packaging would work readily with your iPod without any fuss. You could also confidently buy headphones without any fear of an impedance mismatch.

Picture of the 'Made for iPod' label lifted from an Apple page.

Today, music is more evolved; music is more accessible, and is all backed up in a cloud we can’t see. I love the convenience we have today, I really do. I love how my playlists show up exactly the same way on my phone, my PC, and my tablet. But I’m also cognizant of the fact that with each passing year, music is becoming more of a service to which we subscribe periodically and less of that special something you got for your birthday or for Christmas.

On the bright side, iPod will score big on nostalgia points in the years to come. I imagine there will be iPod memorabilia flooding the online stores soon enough. And my t-shirt that now pays tribute to the old cassette era will soon be joined by another one for the good old iPod that sang aloud for a good fifteen years without pause.

Until next time...
Vignesh

Really Wired Stuff

You know, it's true that we've exchanged more hellos since the advent and proliferation of mobile telephony—well—at least, in the sense that phones these days have enough charge just to send out a quick, mistyped hello before turning into a pocket mirror and mobile networks these days hold up long enough to let us holler a few garbled hellos before moving on to serve customers of another dimension.

Well, the truth sickens me more than you can imagine. It sickens me that somewhere along the way, showing the world an excessively filtered image of our least-ugly toenail became more important than a good quality voice call with someone. This change in priority has led our phone manufacturers and network providers to believe that internet quality is more important to customers than call quality. And that mindset is OK—if internet actually worked—but it just doesn't. The connection usually lasts long enough for Google to prompt, 'If you just said something, I didn’t hear what it was.'

So while our gaze is tightly fixed on the interminable ads that YouTube plays, there exists, behind our inattentive backs, a lesser-known, seldom-used network of good-quality voice calls. It's still used quite a lot in most offices, mind you, and in fact, you might have just seen one today or in the last one week. So let me reintroduce you to...

The Great Landline Telephone!

If you're a millennial, you will have seen one of these before for certain, unless of course, you're a Weasley. However, if you're one of those tetchy, young teenagers whose first words were Candy Crush Saga instead of goo-goo ga-ga, here's a rough description of a landline phone: it's a squarish plastic device with a prominent handle on one side of its face. Now that's called the receiver: it's what you slap against your face to hear and speak. To call, you simply lift it, push the numbers on the number pad, and the rest is just like a mobile phone.

The quality of the call isn't going to be earth-shatteringly better, but I assure you that you won't ever have to dial twenty times only to hear a pathetic sorry message about the network's inability to put you through to someone who's practically hugging the cell tower, and redial another forty times to clarify your food order for 'six tea cakes', not 'sixty cakes'.

Right, so it's quite obvious why we can't carry around a wired, textbook-sized phone in our pockets—duh—it doesn't have a selfie camera on the receiver! But here's what we can do—we can consciously locate as many useable landline phones as we can in our everyday surroundings—and actually use them whenever possible. I reckon that if at least one of the two callers is using a landline, the call should be somewhat decent. It beats christening an old owl Errol and tossing it out of the window with a parchment around its leg I suppose.

And tetchy, young teenager, if you're still reading this, know that some landline telephones are sophisticated enough to have a digital display and speed dial. Store your grandmum's number in there, and do you know what you get? Insta-gram!

Until next time...

Vignesh

The Chromiumbook

It’s little wonder the Chromebook never really took off in India. I mean, I’ve done an online search for one just now, and there’s just no solid result. But hold on, what’s a Chromebook, you ask? Simple — it’s Google’s answer to the ever-burgeoning tyranny of slow, bloated Windows PCs, which aims to deliver fast and easy computing to anyone who lives only on for the internet. And how do they achieve it? They get rid of everything but the Chrome browser, call it Chrome OS, slap it inside a plastic box with a keyboard and sell it to you for a somewhat modest price of ₹16,000. I can almost guess what you're thinking now. Which wasteful addle-head would ever want to buy a boxed web browser that’s already free to begin with for that much money?

In college, I wanted a Chromebook quite badly. Despite owning a couple of computers that worked just fine, I ached for a computing experience that was free of Windows and its cursed Blue Screen of Death. I also longed to be a member of that exclusive Anti-Windows club who always used something special, and something quirky, like a pre-release Linux distro no one had ever heard of, or at least a Macintosh. Obviously, I couldn’t get myself a Macintosh; I valued my kidneys far too much. But I’d seen that club of avant-garde users, yes, and had felt what they felt. They were the ones who sneered at the very sight of a Windows computer, and if ever they had to use one, they did so only with their left hands and reserved the choicest of expletives for when it behaved badly. OK, I’m overstating that now.

Happily, I never bought one because I knew deep down I’d never be able to rationalise a purchase so impractical. But the Chromebook really isn’t all that impractical — it’s just you and the internet, without any hindrances. There’s no antivirus program demanding you to scan drives and renew your subscription, or Windows Update forcing you to quit doing whatever you’re doing to install critical updates, or Internet Explorer haranguing you over some worthless add-ons.

The fact of the matter is that the Chromebook is just here at the wrong time and has no definite, targeted customer. You see, in the western world, getting a Chromebook over a Windows PC can actually be a good idea because it’s far cheaper there than it is in India; it starts at about ₹10,000. A majority of the American schools and colleges are already using Chromebook as their preferred classroom device because it’s easier to configure and deploy. Also, a Chromebook sold in India won’t feature cellular connectivity, and is likely to have only two gigabytes of memory, as opposed to a global model that might have four. With the memory halved, and with only WiFi to connect through, the Chromebook becomes a seriously limited device. And when was the last time you went to an eatery with a proper, working wireless internet connection? See?

A couple of weeks ago, I found another way to whet my old curiosity. I came across something called CloudReady, an open-source operating system based on Chromium OS, which uses the same architecture as Chrome OS. To spare you the confusion, I’ll just call Chromium OS the same as Chrome OS, but without all the colourful makeup that its rich daddy Google buys it. In other words, Chrome would be Dudley Dursley, the chubby, attention-grabbing blowhard of a kid, and Chromium, the other cupboard-dwelling boy who no one ever knew existed. Anyhow, when I went through CloudReady’s documentation, I was glad to know that it had certified support for a model I happened to have lying around at home — a ThinkPad T60. This ten-year old IBM machine was a great companion through college, but was now reduced to being an email-checking machine on a slow Sunday. I just had to do it; I just had to turn it into a Chromium-book.

The CloudReady installation went well, and since then, my dad and I have been taking turns toying with it. I’m happy to report that the experience has been very agreeable so far. Cold boots happen in under ten seconds, all the drivers seem to work flawlessly, the battery lasts a good two hours, and switching users is a cinch. Surprisingly, it’s almost completely free of bugs. Casting the entire screen to a TV seems to get it though, but it’s a minor glitch I can overlook. On the whole, it’s a very good setup for a browser that’s been turned into an operating system.

Would I ever buy a Chromebook, now that I’ve got a glimpse of it through my quasi-Chromebook? Oh heavens, no, I am very much over the Chromebook. Windows may be ridiculously complicated and thick at times, but I simply cannot live without my favourite applications, like Dropbox, iTunes, f.lux, and WordWeb. Here’s what Google could do though — release the Chrome OS officially, as a standalone operating system, so old computers like the T60 can earn a new lease of life. But I know that's never going to happen. I mean, would the Dursleys ever let their Ickle Diddykins get a bad name because a large snake escaped the zoo during their visit? Oh no, they'd have Harry to blame for it.

Until next time...
Vignesh

An Allo-rgic Reaction

The signs are clear as day — Google is the next Microsoft; confused, cluttered, and pushy. The company that spent the last five years unifying all its chat services has now released not one, but three new applications to restart the confusion. Some brains, right?

In the last few months, Google has launched a discussions app called Spaces, a video-chatting app called Duo, and now, a mobile messaging app called Allo. But I want to address Allo particularly in this post.

In my opinion, Google’s original chat service, Google Talk, was perfect for its time; it was simple, cross-platform, and lightweight. And along came Hangouts, which made for a decent successor. True, Hangouts initially suffered from numerous performance issues, but today, it is a worthy contender against the likes of WhatsApp and Facebook Messenger.

Google doesn’t seem to think so. Google believes that it ought to have its own real WhatsApp-rival, one that works using a phone number and not a Google account. And why is that, you ask? It’s because WhatsApp, in recent years, has grown tenfold in popularity and user base (especially in India) and Google believes that it has the wherewithal to outclass it. Also, no one ever really got the concept of Hangouts, although it’s quite simple really.

So I gave Allo a go for a couple of days and watched it crash beautifully on my Nexus 5X (so much for ideal Android apps testing ground, eh). Feeling content that two days was sufficient time spent testing the damn thing, I uninstalled it, got on my computer, and started typing.

Let's get straight to the rub — the much debated features of the app, Google Assistant and Smart Reply. In short, here’s what Google has developed — a third wheel that will constantly butt into your conversations with ready answers when discussing facts. And it won't just stop at being Hermione; it'll show you suggested replies for your texts, like 'OK’ and 'Haha’ depending on the incoming text. There is also a separate contact called Google Assistant that you can chat with. It’s Siri, but à la Google. Knock yourself out.

To improve these reply suggestions over time, the app will continuously record your replying styles and get a better understanding of who you are and how you text, robbing you clean of your privacy. But for now, let’s try and overlook that, because privacy was lost the day we got online. I am more worried about how we’re being robbed of our individuality.

Have you observed how your recipients read your messages so quickly and easily, but reply less frequently? I’m sure you’ve observed it; even got mad at times. By nature, it’s easy for us human beings to read something, but when asked to actively participate in a conversation, we’ll have to consciously apply time and effort. The Smart Reply feature in Allo is designed to help us in this process of replying, but I fear it may only do more damage than help. I am worried that in the name of convenience, we’ll slowly lose our sense of originality and spontaneity.

Think about it — at some point in the future, this app is going to be answering for us almost all the time, forcing us to choose one of the suggested replies over opening up the keyboard and typing; and we’ll give in, because it’s just so much faster. And our poor recipients will barely be able to tell the difference. Sure, it’ll know us well enough to suggest an ‘OMG! That’s dank!’ over a ‘It’s terrific!’ every once in a while, just to spice things up, but really? Do we really want a machine spicing things up for us?

And OK Google, it’s great to be in the know, but I’d hate to have unsolicited information shoved down my throat all the time. Besides, that’s what Google Now on Tap was designed for — so I can long-press the home button and expect Google Now to scan my screen for potential keywords to Google. Why is Google confusing everything again?

Allo can be a pain even if you don’t install it. Since it’s a Google app, and since Google calls all the shots on Android phones, you may receive text notifications from the app even if you haven’t installed it. Android’s undercover agent, Google Play services will ensure you get a pop-up of the message sent to you on Allo and also offer a link to the installation page. Doesn’t that sound like something Microsoft would do? On the bright side (if you can call it that), Google plans on bringing this app-less notification feature to other messaging apps as well.

Let’s try and sum up what I’m on about. Am I looking at Allo with a jaundiced eye? Yes, evidently. Can I be blamed? No! Because in an era where we ought to be standardising chat clients, we’re only seeing more of them crop up with agendas of their own. I am used to the flexibility protocols like XMPP offered over half a decade ago. And now, I am forced to see (and use, eventually) more and more platform-specific apps whose coolest features are animated stickers and a computer algorithm that can tell me knock-knock jokes.

As a stubborn millennial, all I can do is hold off the transition for as long as I can, dissuade my friends and family from texting on something new and rubbish, and finally give in when everyone I know is using it. Sheesh.


Until next time...
Vignesh

Print History

I was thoroughly ecstatic when, about fifteen years ago, my father walked into the room and announced we were going to buy a printer. I must’ve been in my third or fourth standard and I was in raptures on hearing the good news. Back then, if you were a schoolkid with your own home computer, you were already pretty cool. And I was having the whole works - a personal computer (replete with oodles of games on it), internet connection (I was already communicating with emails then), and a CD writer (floppy disks were passé even back then), soon to be joined by a colour ink-jet printer.

Our first printer then, was an Epson Stylus C41UX - a petite four-colour inkjet. To the rest of the world, it was a run-of-the-mill economy home printer, but to me, it was witchcraft - the right combination of cyan, magenta, yellow, and black inks could create just about any colour I wanted? No way! And these minute droplets of ink would be squirted on moving paper using tiny piezoelectric nozzles on the print-head that rapidly dashed from side to side? Get out!

I spent the first few months wearing the printer in how a ten-year-old with computer access should; I would print photos of my family, pictures of my favourite cartoon characters (Tintin and Gohan, to name a couple), and recipes for homemade pizzas and whatnots. And if I got bored printing those, I'd waste more ink printing jewel case labels for my mixtape CDs and outlines for paper cut-outs of Japanese hatchbacks and Airbus aeroplanes.

That Epson went on to serve us for over five years. During its final years of commission, the printer would use the better portion of every ink cartridge installed to clean and align its print-head. If the printer seemed to be in a good mood, it would use two out of its four available colours to present us with a dull, pink or bluish image of a beautiful green leaf. And if it didn’t feel like it, it would refuse to feed paper until one of us forcibly jammed it in, and would then continue to be adamant by simply squirting an amorphous blob of ink on paper instead of printing what was commanded.

Our second printer was an HP F4185 All-in-One, a boxy multifunction printer that could not only print, but also scan, and make copies without requiring a command from the computer. I liked how HP’s thermal inkjet technology felt so ahead of the curve and how it was capable of consuming ink in picolitres, unlike the Epson, which always gave us the appearance of a child that constantly wet its pants and asked for more water. The fact that it was a lot quieter while printing was something I both liked and disliked; I guess it was like using a modern, refined fuel-injected car, but missing the bangs and whirrs of the old one.

I was in high-school when the HP came along, but I was just as excited to fiddle around with it. I would print innumerable custom-designed CD labels and posters on expensive specialty paper. I would also slide documents onto the scanning glass and hit the copy button blithely to save myself a walk to the photocopy shop, a lazy habit that would occasionally end with me being severely reprimanded. I’d impress my teachers regularly with full-colour printouts of project work while everyone else submitted black and white. This lunchbox of a printer was also a trooper that survived over five years.

One of my old CD labels for a CD with songs ripped off the radio I think.

Feeling confident about the brand and an itch to go wireless, we replaced the F4185 with yet another HP - the 3515. Boy, were we wrong. This was a dreadful All-in-One printer. It was plagued with a litany of faults right from the start; the paper never once fed correctly without manual intervention, the page alignment was always off, it was utterly incapable of duplex printing (manual or otherwise), and worst of all, the scans all showed up with black patches on them.

I was in college when this foul contraption from hell landed, and I’d already lost much of my interest in playing around with a printer. I remember wanting to gift my friends and family 4x6 photo frames with some old photos on more than one occasion, but the only thing I managed to get out of the printer every single time was a bunch of long error codes. So, I can’t really say I designed and printed anything creative on the 3515, save for a greeting card or two.

I wouldn’t be overstating in the least if I called the 3515 HP’s worst product to date. The very first set of ink cartridges that came with the printer died long before they were fully depleted; the printer simply refused to use them after a few months. It was the same case with the next set of cartridges as well, and the ones after those. And that’s why all of the photos I ever printed were through a Kodak instant photo kiosk from a nearby Printo. The HP was shunted aside and used mostly for printing boarding passes and movie reservations in black and white.

And there we have it. The three printers we owned so far, and my slow passage from childhood to adulthood, mixed with a waning sense of energy and playfulness, and my thickening need to be critical, with a gradual realisation that paper and ink are precious resources.

There’s a special feeling I get when I see a sheet of paper emerge from the printer’s output tray, especially when it’s something I’ve worked on for hours; it’s a mixture of excitement and apprehension, where I’m constantly wondering if all the shapes, the fonts, and the colours will appear the way I imagined it during design. As a schoolboy, this was the feeling I got when I printed my cassette case labels and fridge stickers. Today, it’s the same feeling I get when I print my CVs and project reports. I suppose that’s one nice bit of the experience that doesn’t get lost in the transition to adulthood, and it's probably worth a good printer.

Which is why we bought a new one last week - an HP DeskJet 4535, and I’m happy to report that it’s nothing like the dreadful 3515. It’s a fine piece of machinery that, of course, does everything - scanning, copying, and automatic duplex printing. The input tray is fully concealed and paper is automatically fed, so when I give the print command on my phone, my document appears magically from inside the printer and lands on an automatically-protracting arm. Just splendid. Buying it is probably what triggered me into writing this rather nostalgic post. I’m looking forward to the next five years with this one.



Until next time…
Vignesh

PS - Speaking of replacements has just reminded me that my phone’s transparent case could use a nice new picture. What better time to start creating one than now?

The Apple of My Ear

Ask an Apple user about Apple products and they will most likely tell you how awesome they are. Poke them a bit more, and they will also tell you the cost of that awesomeness. Depending on its size, colour, and well, awesomeness, an Apple product could set you back anywhere between four thousand rupees and one fully-functional kidney.

Surprisingly, Apple’s latest offering in India is rather cheap. But that’s only because it’s not so much a product as it is a service. Say bonjour to Apple Music, the newest music-streaming service that, internationally, is catching up quickly with big names like Spotify and Tidal. Meanwhile in India, it is up against services like Wynk and Saavn that are primarily aimed at streaming regional music. 

I have been using Apple Music for a couple of months now, and I can safely say that it has struck the right note in me. With each passing day, I seem to be using it more. To me, this service is beginning to feel more like a paradigm shift than just another music app. I am starting to believe that this is the way I should have been consuming music all along. Allow me to elaborate.

Pricing
As is the case with many internet users, I ashamedly accept that a sizeable portion of my music has been acquired illicitly. In the last ten or fifteen years, I have managed to amass my hard drives with thousands of albums and songs by either allowing friends to share it with me, or by downloading them off the internet myself. It’s likely that no more than a fifth of my music collection is in the form of purchased CDs.

Frankly, I have never been proud of owning music this way, and I’m glad that the arrival of Apple Music finally changes things, at least by a little. The monthly subscription costs ₹120 for a single user and ₹190 for a family of six users. If we’re honest, that’s a piddly sum compared to the money most of us spend on ad-ridden cable television or internet.

Collection
As something of a music connoisseur, I can confirm that Apple’s collection of music from around the world is quite enormous. I was able to find and stream music from most of my favourite artists. I was left wanting very little outside their collection every time I performed a search. Music unavailable on Apple was either by relatively small artists whose presence was stronger on SoundCloud (like say, Christine and the Queens) or by artists backing Tidal exclusively (Kanye West, Jay-Z, et al.).

A cool feature of Music is that there are tonnes of playlists being created daily by music experts and ‘curators’ that make it easier than ever to try out new artists and genres. Oh you know, there are ones like ‘Intro to Daft Punk’ or ‘Frank Sinatra: Swings’. These playlists are suggested to the user based on their tastes and choices. There are even some activity-based playlists to set the mood right for whatever you’re currently doing. So, whether you’re riding the bus with the other dead people on a drizzly Monday morning or leaving work on a promising Friday evening to meet your mates, Apple’s got you covered.

Hip-hop devotees will bemoan Apple’s thoughtless style of bleeping ‘explicit’ lyrics wherein they’ve only managed to cut out some expletives but completely missed out on what the rest of the lyrics may mean or suggest. You’re better off not using Music for this one genre, if you ask me. 

Apple Music for Android
This is Apple’s first real app for Android and it’s been in Beta ever since its launch in November last year. Four months on, you can easily tell the app still needs a lot of improvement.

It works all right for the most part, but there are a few of those persistent glitches that can make the app unusable on the whole at times. I’m talking about sudden crashes and abrupt halts in playback. If you’re behind the wheel and have to constantly check your phone to take care of an adamant music app, that’s bound to drive you up the wall (along with your car, if you know what I mean).

It’s not all bad news though because the app allows offline storage of downloaded music and that’s just the right ticket for many users (myself included) who like to use their data plans frugally and bank on WiFi networks more.

The most useful improvement arrived a couple of weeks ago in the form of SD card support for phones equipped with a microSD card slot. Most cards go up to a capacity of 128 GB these days and that means that you can carry a lot of tunes with you for the road.

I have about a couple of hundred songs stored offline on my Apple Music app now, and I must say that I am quite happy with the setup. Every other day, I spend a little time in the morning downloading the music I want for the road and play it offline in the car through Bluetooth.

Here are some strange bugs I've noticed so far - a few songs that played perfectly well offline in the morning refused to play in the evening (demanding that it be connected to the internet to play), some sudden disappearances of album arts (for no apparent reason), and pixelation of some icons within the app (that stick out like a bloody sore thumb). You’ll come across such vagaries and then some for the time being, but I do hope Apple’s working hard at fine-tuning them. Still, I get the strange feeling this app’s never getting out of Beta.

Conclusion
All things considered, Apple Music is worth subscribing to if you have had enough of playing pirate and want to plunge into the Netflix era of music. The first three months are free anyway. Earlier on, I may have overstated when I said Apple Music feels like a paradigm shift, but if you’re a user like me you’ll come to understand why I said that. With Apple Music, I no longer have to go to the bother of downloading a song and copying it to a million flash drives and devices. Who’d have ever imagined the route out of piracy to be this easy and this cheap?

On PC/Mac, you can access Apple Music through iTunes. On Android mobile phones (ver. 5.0 and up), you can get the buggy Beta app that is slightly senile. On Android tablet devices, it simply doesn’t exist. And on iOS devices, you can get the stable version of the app but I can’t comment on it because I don’t really own Apple devices save for a few old iPods and they don’t support music via er, Music. But if I ever come across a one-kidneyed iPhone/iPad user who uses Music, I’ll be sure to ask about their experience. 


Until next time…
Vignesh