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?

Forgive me iPhone, for I have sinned

Well, I guess it was only a matter of time. We live in world of convergence, where the overlap of trends and ideas has become a matter of eventuality, rather than possibility. 

So I don't even find the energy to be surprised that the Catholic Church has approved the development and launch of a new iPhone app "to invite Catholics to engage in their faith through digital technology."

For a few years now, the Church has been struggling to find its place in our modern, GPS-enabled, augmented version of reality. At the same time, developers seeking their fortune have found the world of apps to provide a seemingly inexhaustible source of inspiration. As a result, these two unconnected trends have been racing towards each other, like theoretical trains in a high school maths problem. 

At the point of impact, in amongst the smoke and twisted metal, we find ourselves faced with the prospect of an app called Confession (available for £1.19/$1.99). Penitent sinners, who find themselves too time-poor to sit in a cupboard and spill their guts to a priest, can now input their wrongdoings into a handy piece of software.

The BBC's coverage of the story points out that this newest wrinkle in the gradual modernisation of Catholicism follows on from the Pope's recent approval of social media. Last month, in his World Communications Address, Benedict XVI told young believers that the new technology provided a useful forum for people to share information with each other: "I invite young people above all to make good use of their presence in the digital world... It is important always to remember that virtual contact cannot and must not take the place of direct human contact."

Despite this warning, Confession's virtualisation of the penitence process suggests that Priests are being increasingly removed from many people's day-to-day religious behaviour. It's much easier to click your way through a bunch of tabs that help you to examine your conscience, rather than articulate your darker moments out loud. 

More importantly, it also highlights the misgivings that many people have about the concept of Confession itself - that people can act with impunity, as long as they're willing to atone for their wrongdoing later. I'm not sure exactly what God told Moses on Mount Sinai, but I'm willing to speculate that his briefing made no mention of developing an algorithm that enables people to "keep track of their sins".

It'll also be interesting to see how much trust people are willing to place in the concept of ecclesiastical privilege. Given the frequency of security breaches and hacked accounts, it's hard to imagine the world's Catholics being willing to sign up to an online archive of all their moral shortcomings. Suddenly, the whole Wikileaks controversy is starting to look like a Jonah's storm in a teacup.

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.

Reaching the half-way point

OK, so this countdown of the year is starting to feel like a bad idea, but I'm half cut on Fluffy Ducks, so let's soldier on and see if we can make it to the end of June

In May, Danny Dyer got into hot water for a misogynistic advice column, in which he told one magazine reader with a problematic ex-girlfriend to slash her face so that no-one else would want her. Donnie Osmond took a different approach, finding that the way to a woman's heart is through her vagina. Well, a rolled up poster of Donnie any way.

With the weather finally on the turn, it seemed as though everyone had sex on the brain. Westlife were promising their sexiest album yet (which admittedly wasn't much of a ambition), one enterprising young woman staged an online auction of her virginity (although it's not clear whether anyone sniped the highest bidder at the last moment), and a British Job Centre tried to recruit phone sex workers.

Sex was the last thing on Kevin Jonas' mind as he found himself occupying a separate bedroom to his new bride, thanks to his snoring. And anti-gay Christian activist George Rekers claimed that the young rent boy who accompanied him on his European trip was only there to carry the luggage.

Daniel Craig, Johnny Galecki and Chace Crawford found themselves fending off gay rumours, whereas the big outings of the month actually came as a genuine surprise - country singer Chely Wright and long-standing Sesame Street resident Bert.

Less surprising was the revelation that the Rolling Stones took drugs when writing music, which was a little like George Best admitting that he liked the odd tipple. This year's Eurovision also offered few surprises, once again displaying Europe's knack for key changes, glitter cannons and political back-stabbery.

Finally, May saw the end of two long-standing institutions - the Labour government and Lost. Both had spent years delighting, confusing and infuriating in equal measure, and both knew that it was time to go. In the end, it was the survivors of flight Oceanic 815 that were more likely to be missed.

As June rolled over the horizon, people seemed to be packing away the final traces of self-awareness like it was their winter wardrobe. Republican Aaron Schock denied being gay (and even announced he'd burned the outfit that caused people to speculate), Tara Reid lamented her party-girl reputation as she attempted to avoid spilling beer from a plastic cup, and Giles Coren typed furiously that he wasn't Mr Angry.

McDonalds shocked France with an ad that suggested gays might enjoy the occasional quarter pounder (who knew?) and Vermont Catholic magazine hit the news-stands with a surprising cover, showing a priest apparently offering a choirboy more than just his sacrament.

In the pop world, Beyonce complained that she was tired of the Single Ladies dance routine (despite Kanye west's vocal approval), and Katy Perry took time out from shooting whipped cream from her tits to moan about Lady Gaga's offensive videos.

Boris Johnson lamented the fact that The Wizarding World of Harry Potter had opened in Florida, suggesting somewhat erroneously that England could have done it better. I think someone needs to lay off the butterbeer before he opens his mouth. And Mad Men star January Jones was caught doing the walk of shame after a big night out.

David Cameron finally got his feet under the desk at Number 10, and was quick to send out invitations to Britain's most prominent gays for a damage limitation party. Speaking of which, the big story on everyone's lips in June was the terrible BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. Big-hearted gays staged a sponsored oil wrestle to raise clean-up funds, Sarah Palin tweeted that we should all wait for God to intervene, and Kevin Costner invented a filtration system that he sold to the government. Well, it's not like he was busy filming that much-in-demand sequel to Dragonfly.

Finally, June saw the long awaited reveal and release of the world-conquering iPhone 4, although Carphone Warehouse decided that I hadn't waited quite long enough. But the less said about that, the better. Can anyone guess what months we'll be covering tomorrow?

iPhoning it in

The advent of the home computer, combined with widespread internet access, ushered in what became known as 'the information age'. Now, thanks to facebook,Twitter and the blogosphere, we live in the 'too-much-information age'. Everybody loves to share...

The upside of all this, is that consumers are now more empowered than ever before to celebrate the brands they love and denigrate the ones they don't. So it's in that spirit that I choose to change the direction of this blog for the day, and share my feelings around a negative brand experience. If this sounds dull, feel free to go read Digital Spy, and check back again tomorrow for the latest update on Lindsay Lohan's SCRAM bracelet.

A few weeks ago, I proudly blogged from the queue outside the flagship Apple store at Westfield, Shepherd's Bush. It was my first experience of the launch-day hoopla that tends to surround the release of any new Apple product. Although I'm generally averse to standing in line (not very British I know), I was willing to make an exception to be part of a rare social phenomenon.

As a result, when Steve Jobs made his keynote address several days later to announce the imminent arrival of iPhone 4, I realised that I'd caught the early adopter bug. Three weeks ahead of the launch, and I was already consulting my diary to see if I could wangle a late start on the 24th to enable me to stand in line with my fellow devotees. After all, a new Apple launch inspires the kind of worshipful pilgrimage usually reserved for South Americans when someone spies a likeness of the Virgin Mary on a partially cooked tortilla.

Actually, 'early adopter' doesn't quite cut it, when it comes to describing Apple products. The term is usually reserved for those brave souls who are willing to weather the teething troubles and embrace fledgeling technology before it catches on with the mainstream. With Apple, it's an altogether different mindset - more like the woman who signs her prospective children up for private school before her husband has even taken his pants off.

So anyway, there was I trying to calculate my best option for snapping up the shiny new iPhone on launch day, when I received a call from Carphone Warehouse three days ago. They told me that I was a 'priority customer' and as such, was eligible for an upgrade - would I like the new phone delivered on launch day? That's a little like asking Katie Price if she'd be willing to do it in front of a TV crew.

Today was the big day. My friend Drew spent five hours outside the O2 store in Islington, waiting to buy his phone in person - apparently the queue moved so slowly that at one point, a woman realised she'd left her wallet behind, walked home, found the wallet, and returned to take her place in the queue. It hadn't moved.

Meanwhile, I sat at work, checking the clock in the hope that my childish impatience would inspire the DHL delivery people to speed my package on its way. At 2pm I called Carphone Warehouse to double check that my order had been correctly processed. The customer service agent not only reassured me that my phone was en route, he even took the opportunity to up-sell a package of screen protectors.

By six o'clock Drew had finally arrived at work, blooded but unbowed, and displaying his prize like Conan returning from the battlefield. Unfortunately, my iPhone was nowhere to be seen. After half an hour of being passed around like a joint at an after-Prom party, I was finally told that I wouldn't be receiving my iPhone today. A clerical error had meant that a number of iPhones had not been dispatched from the Carphone Warehouse warehouse.

Now, I know that, in the grand scheme of things, this is not a major issue. There are fingerless orphans making the iPhones who have much bigger issues to contend with than the late delivery of their latest consumer durable.

However, the real issue here is that I was denied the true joy of being an Apple-apostle. The queuing, the banter, the palpable excitement, the body odour - it all contributes to the sense of occasion. By opting for the convenient shortcut, I denied myself the true Apple brand experience. And I lost out.

If you want to be part of the brand, sometimes you have to learn the hard way. And if you want your phone to arrive on time, don't ever order it from the Carphone Warehouse. Now, share this story with as many people as possible so that I can feel like I accomplished something with my immature sulking...