WIMP
I awoke today and found
The frost perched on the town
It hovered in a frozen sky
Then it gobbled summer down
Greetings from Vail, Colorado, where it’s the final week of the season and I’m using zinc oxide on my lips to prevent blisters.
Just a moment ago it was winter. I was wearing my 3.0 underwear and my down mittens, and now there’s bare spots on Pepi’s Face and everybody in town can’t wait until the tourists leave and they can too, for a hard-earned respite in Cabo or Moab…anywhere where it’s hot.
But I still want it to be cold.
Funny this skiing thing. It’s the only constant in my life. I’ve wandered from the faith, but upon my return I find the sensation is still the same, exquisite, sensational…literally, it’s all about feeling, and I tend to live an intellectual life.
And when I want to disconnect from this life I pull up the tunes that mean so much to me but not necessarily to others. Like Tom Rush’s rendition of “Urge For Going.”
You see I’ve been playing all my favorites on WIMP.
It’s kind of like getting a new stereo, only in this case it’s a streaming service, but this is the only one that streams in lossless, i.e. CD quality, and it sounds fantastic.
I went to their office in Oslo and told them I didn’t understand their business model, that online only one service triumphs, there is no number two, Bing has lost billions, but they’re convinced they can make it. They’re part of a much larger company, that owns the Craigslist of Europe, only this one charges, they’re not playing the IPO game, they think a certain number of people will pay for higher quality audio, as well as editorial.
I said Spotify could squash them in a minute.
They said Spotify’s investors would not allow the investment for lossless streaming, that they’re eager to cash out.
And we can discuss business models all day long, all I can tell you is the sound of WIMP is blowing my mind.
The tracks don’t queue instantly. Maybe that’s because the company’s in Norway, maybe that’s because of the amount of data, although they said 4G is sufficient for streaming, that you need very slow broadband to be good enough, I think it was 2.5, which just about everybody has these days, except maybe those still paying bupkes for DSL.
So I put the app on my phone and was instantly astounded. I played all my favorites, all the songs I knew by heart. And I heard stuff I never heard before, or forgot, because I never fire up the big rig anymore, even though it’s right by my computer, it’s easier to play files. But suddenly, with WIMP, everything old is new again.
And I played “Blue,” to hear Joni’s dulcimer is to believe it’s all you want.
And then I pulled up Tom Rush’s “Circle Game,” which contains his rendition of Joni’s “Urge For Going,” for decades it was the definitive statement, before Ms. Mitchell released her own.
I’ll ply the fire with kindling now
I’ll pull the blankets up to my chin
I’ll lock the vagrant winter out and
I’ll bolt my wanderings in
I’d like to call back summertime
Have her stay for just another month or so
I want her to stay away. Not forever, just a few more months. The older you get, the faster time moves. Remember when it was forever to Thanksgiving, and the end of school? Now the world seems like those plates that guy used to twirl on “Ed Sullivan,” you can see time evaporate.
And it’s like we’re all on that platter. And when you’re young you’re in the center and you barely note its rotation.
But then you get older, you graduate from college, and you realize life is not forever.
And then people start sliding off. I’ve reached that age where dinner conversation revolves around health, I know a couple of people with terminal Big C.
And you know you can hasten your demise, or it can be the luck of the draw, but that no one here gets out alive.
So, so long winter 13/14. I know easterners are sick of it, but we Angelenos don’t live in it, we just visit it, and we wish it would last forever.
And so long MP3s, you were always an imperfect medium.
And so long candy music, without meaning. We can’t live on empty calories for long.
Now the warriors of winter
They gave a cold triumphant shout
And all that stays is dying
And all that lives is gettin’ out
See the geese in chevron flight
Flapping and racing on before the snow
See them? Coming back? Bringing the warm weather with them?
You think it’s a rebirth, but something is always lost as time transpires.
Sometimes it’s your parents, sometimes it’s your best friend.
If you’ve got a lover who stays, congratulations, but eventually one is gonna go.
And on Sunday the lifts will grind to a halt and I’ll be forced to move on.
But I’ve got no urge for going.
