Sounds good to me

This has been a big month for Sonos. After six years of quietly transforming the way people enjoy, share and rediscover their music collections, they've finally passed a major milestone. As they put it - they're now playing music in a million rooms around the world.

OK, so compared with Apple's terrifying expansion and gradual domination of humanity's gadget obsession, a million units is pretty small potatoes. But Sonos has never seemed to be about scoring record sales or laying waste to the home stereo market - they just enjoy making great products that people love. They're the gadget equivalent of the small family-run restaurant that you have to book two weeks in advance. The kind that turns down the offer of larger premises because they worry that they wouldn't be able to offer the same level of service if they had three times as many covers.

When Sonos first launched, critics applauded the system's ease-of-use and Apple-worthy user interface, arguing that if you were going to kit out your home with wireless music, you might as well go for the best-in-class. The drawback, as with most things, was the prohibitive pricing. When I took the plunge in 2006 after some extensive home renovations, a three-room starter kit set me back just short of two grand. Since then, the range has expanded gradually, offering ever more affordable options. Now the S5 (with built-in speakers) and its underweight sibling, the Play:3, mean that there's no need for buying any speakers and cables. Even with integrated speakers, the sound is rich, clear and can fill a room like Michelle McManus in a photo-booth.

Aside from the product innovations, and regular software updates that beam wirelessly to the various units, Sonos also won plenty of goodwill when they launched their iPhone, iPad and Android controller apps. Whereas other electronics company might understandably charge for a piece of software that effectively negates the need for their proprietary controller unit, Sonos gave it away for free. So now, when we have a friends over, anyone with a smartphone can simply download the app and start commandeering the music.

Sonos is the perfect solution for a party - it's like pass-the-parcel meets the world's greatest jukebox. Pour the drinks, get round the table and take it in turns to add a track to the playlist. The only groundrules are that no-one's allowed to jump the queue or remove someone else's choice. If your collection is as broad and eclectic as mine, you'll be amazed at the random choices other people will make. This summer, we went from R.E.M to Lady Gaga to E.L.O, via Bugsy Malone and Bert Kampfert. You won't find that kind of tracklisting on Now 78.

Of course, there are other, more affordable wireless music systems out there. But with limited functionality and overly fussy designs, nothing really comes close to the simplicity of Sonos. Seven weeks ago, when Apple released their OS Lion update, Sonos suddenly stopped working. To cut a long and desperately tedious story short, Apple decided to change the file sharing permissions in their new operating system. And since Sonos takes the files directly from your hard drive (assuming you're not using a Network Attached Storage device), this meant that the entire system was locked out of the music folder.

As the technicians were busy working on a fix, the company was regularly in contact to apologise profusely for the inconvenience and give an idea of when the problem would be solved. It's not that I was completely without music, since last year Sonos finally launched its collaboration with Spotify. So that's several million tracks still readily available at the touch of a... well, a touchscreen. 

Don't get me wrong, I love Spotify. But those seven weeks in my own personal audio wilderness made me realise that, of all the ridiculous gadgets and gizmos I own, Sonos is the only one I couldn't live without. I know, I know - #whitepeoplesproblems. Even so, what gadget could you never be without?

Taking a bite out of Apple

Some people never learn. Already there's a queue outside New York's iconic Apple Store, as premature adopters line up to be the first to get their hands on the eagerly awaited iPad 2. So eagerly awaited, in fact, that people were already anticipating it before the original model even launched.

When iPad made its debut, Apple was dogged by rumours that it was already planning version 2.0 - especially since there was a suspicious space near the top of the unit seemingly set aside for a camera interface to be added at a later date. Last week, a sickly-looking Steve Jobs made a rare public appearance to showcase the new slimmer, lighter iPad, prompting cruel commentators to suggest that he was taking the concept of 'living the brand' a little too far.

Since the launch announcement, I've been taunted by colleagues keen to point out how obsolete my own iPad is, now that the new version is about to be released. Because Apple's true genius comes not from its product design, marketing or usability, but the extraordinary levels of brand loyalty that it's been able to cultivate.

In his original version of the script for Pulp Fiction, Quentin Tarantino wrote an extended version of the date between Mia and Vincent, where Uma Thurman grills John Travolta on his personal preferences. Mia asks her evening escort whether he's a Beatles or an Elvis man, followed by "Brady Bunch or the Partridge Family?" It's safe to assume that, if Tarantino was making the film today, his heroin-hoovering heroine would be trying to determine whether her date was an Apple or a PC?

During the course of last year, I underwent the conversion process, gradually replacing all my clunky computer hardware with shiny, brushed metal gorgeousness, to the point that we are now an all-Mac household. And even though the technology itself may go out of date quicker than mayonnaise, at least everything looks lovely.

When it comes to Mac-ownership, there's little to regret. Or at least, so I thought, until I saw a study conducted by UC Berkeley computer science major Kyle Conroy. With Apple currently being predicted to take the title of the world's first trillion-dollar company, Kyle wondered how rich he'd be if he'd invested in the company, rather than its lovingly-designed products.

I may have a pathological inability to read anything even resembling a spreadsheet, but even I can see the stark lesson that his studies present. Starting back in 1997, when Apple launched the PowerBook G3, Kyle has taken the initial market price of each new product and worked out what the same amount would be worth if it had been spent on shares instead. It's pretty depressing stuff.

The $5,700 needed for that G3 laptop would now be worth a staggering $330,000 - not a bad return on a fourteen year investment. Even the equivalent of a G3 Power Macintosh Desktop ($2,400 in 1997) could have delivered a $139,185 dividend. But you wouldn't get a cool, white drawstring bag.

Of course, as one commenter on The Daily What points out, Apple stock has soared precisely because people spent their hard-earned money on their products. Even so, you might want to think twice before you join the queue outside your local store for the new iPad. It doesn't take an Apple Genius to work out that there may be better uses for your money.

Flipping the birds

This week, Mac nerds were in heaven as Apple proudly unveiled its latest App Store - this time offering desktop applications to enhance your home computer. So now there's a funky new symbol added to your Mac dock, which means you can access the latest software and upgrades with a single click of your ergonomically perfect magic mouse.

Take a look at the App Store and you'll see it's just a more cost-effective way of ordering software online, with all the familar products given pride of place in the listings. However, one hold-over from the iPhone and iPad App Stores now making its desktop debut is Angry Birds, the most addictive time-waster since Saturday Kitchen.

Inspired by, of all things, the swine-flu epidemic, Angry Birds cost just $100,000 to develop. And thanks to its low cost (59p for the standard edition game), combined with its publishers' willingness to keep offering free upgrades and enhancements, the game has quickly become one of the most popular titles in history, making its Finnish creators Robio Mobile millions of dollars. After only ten months on release, the game had been downloaded from iTunes 7 million times, with the free limited version shifting a further 11 million copies.

With its bulbous heroes now internationally recognised icons, Robio was quick to investigate the licensing potential. It developed new versions of the software for other mobile platforms, an HD adaptation for iPad, and even began manufacturing plush versions of the avian assassins which are now available from the Angry Birds website. There's even talk of a film and cartoon series based on the game. Well, they can't be any more derivative than The Snorks or Battleship: The Movie.

But what's got people really excited is the forthcoming Angry Birds game by Mattel. Lovingly rendered in chunky, colourful plastic, the game painstakingly recreates the physics of everyone's favourite app in three dimensions.

Simply pick a card, build the structure, load your birds in the catapult, and fire away to score points. There are 56 mission cards to choose from, and the first player to score 1000 points wins. Of course, it lacks the urgency and accessibility of its pixelated counterpart, since every play requires the obstacles to be carefully constructed. It's highly likely that some health and safety-obsessed do-gooder has also put the kibosh on having any exploding birds. Or the triangular species capable of flying at bullet speed.

Clunky moulding and limited playability aside, it's interesting that this is a digital app evolving into an old-fashioned, plastic and paint game. Every new technological innovation scares people into thinking that old-world physicality and interaction will become a thing of the past.

And yet here's a computer game, only a year old, being made into a 'thing of the past' and we can't wait to get our hands on it. I guess the more things change, the more we stay the same. Still, I probably shouldn't hold my breath for the Grand Theft Auto board-game.

iHate

I had a boss once who came back from a seminar with a new phrase that she just loved using - 'neg ferret'. It sounds like some kind of grim sexual proclivity that has no place on a family-orientated blog such as this.

In fact, it's a name given to people who wallow in negativity. It doesn't matter how good an idea is, or how happy people are - they'll somehow find a way of pissing on everyone's picnic.

There's even a branch of journalism dedicated to neg-ferretery. Stories that are written solely to irritate and upset. I'm sure you can imagine which papers they tend to proliferare in, I don't need to mention them by name.

Yesterday there was a great example of 'neg ferret' journalism, and it didn't pull any punches in insulting its readers. It opened with: "Are you wealthy, sophisticated and smart but don’t care about anybody else? The chances are you own an iPad."

Now, my own experiences of iPad ownership are well documented here. So needless to say I was horrified to find out that I'm "unkind and have little empathy for others." I know my writing can be a little snarky at times, but 'unkind' seems a little harsh.

There's no sense arguing the point either, since it's all scientific fact. At least that's the way Tim Koelkebeck of MyType sees it. He carried out a Facebook poll of 20,000 consumers and came to the conclusion that we iPad owners are just not very nice people.

The survey claims that "iPad owners are six times more likely to be wealthy, well-educated, power-hungry, over-achieving, sophisticated, unkind and non-altruistic 30-50-year-olds. They are self-centered workaholics with an overwhelming interest in business and finance who cherish power and achievement and will not cross the street to help others." It's true, I am 35. So the rest of it must be pretty accurate too.

Or is it? In amongst the staggeringly insulting generalisations, there are also some worryingly obvious assertions. For instance, would it shock you to learn that the iPad is popular with "people who enjoy interacting with new technology"? Hold the front page, we have an exclusive.

When the iPad was first launched, Steve Jobs promised that it would revolutionise our lives, from the way we travel to the way we read. Clearly, he neglected to mention that it would also provide a shiny black mirror, allowing us to gaze blankly into the gaping chasm where our soul should be.

If you're chuckling to yourself, thinking that Koelkebeck is onto a winner, and that iPad users are all mindless, morally questionable wankers, I have some bad news. You're a hopeless inadequate, with neither the versatility nor the sex appeal to handle such a stylish piece of kit. Don't blame me - that's Koelkebeck's opinion.

So, what have we learned today? I've learned that surveys are largely worthless. I've learned that some people consider stating the obvious to be proof of their own expertise. And I've learned that you're damned if you do, and damned if you don't.

I'm happy to be someone who always does. Even if that makes me a moral vacuum.

Taking a bite out of Apple

Ok, let's call this an experiment. Diligent readers of this blog may have noticed a mysterious absence of posts last night.
That's because I needed an early start this morning so that I could be part of a pop-culture phenom.

This blog is coming to you live from Westfield London where people have been queuing overnight to get their hands on the latest little object of desire. The Apple iPad goes on sale in one minute and excitement outside the Apple store is at fever pitch. Actually, that's a slight exaggeration. To be honest, it all seems rather muted - half of the crowd look like they're only here because their car broke down outside.

It's a very different story inside the Apple store which, until a few moments ago, was hidden mysteriously behind swathes of black paper. The staff are whooping and hollering for their media team like howler monkeys on meow-meow. Still, in times of credit crunchery, it must be heartwarming to work in retail and see customers lining up around the block outside your store. Even if it is strangely reminiscent of the depression-era soup kitchen queues.

A barista from Sacred has just poured me an Americano, courtesy of Apple. Despite the fact that Westfield's coffee shops normally seem like the embodiment of chaos theory, they seem to have a rather well organised system in place. One guy takes your order, writes it on a cup with your name, and by the time you reach the next corner your drink is ready. Not the nicest coffee I've ever had (it's as bitter as Heather Mills) but it's the thought that counts.

All through the queue, balding thirty-something men (cough) are Tweeting their updates, doing time-checks, and trying to work out whether Apple will have enough stock to meet the needs of all the shuffling techno-whores loosely assembled around the atrium. Apple staff are now doing the rounds, handing out bottles of water, presumably to wash away the taste of the coffee. It's a nice thought, but it's not as though the crowd is in danger of collapsing from heat exhaustion.

As the door gets closer, the first few satisfied customers are emerging with drawstring bags over their shoulders. No-one's screaming, crying or waving their new iPad over their heads. But then, it's never really been about the product. Even the journalists who've been filling the papers with breathlessly excitable reviews can't agree what it's for. As they keep saying - you just have to find out for yourself. Today is all about the brand, the experience, being first.