A short and tragic history of portable music scene

A Web site called "iPod Garage" claims to be the "voice of the iPod generation."

It features the latest iPod headlines (Japan's iPod tax dropped, Conan O'Brien parodies the video iPod), a question-and-answer section with an iPod genius, a forum for people seeking solutions to those tricky iPod problems that can turn an otherwise normal existence into a living hell, and the iPod solution for bringing peace to the Middle East.

Even had the Internet existed back then, I don't think a Web site would be necessary for my first iPod-like technological gadget.

It was an AM radio encased in a blue cloth cover that you slung over the back of your neck. I wore it for running and I thought it was marvelous and inspiring to listen to music while slogging along, even if it was interrupted frequently by commercials and obnoxious disc jockeys.

It wasn't long before I discovered hand-held radios with headphones, a more practical and less goofy-looking alternative. I even managed to hang onto one through the many hours of my one and only marathon, listening for 26 plodding miles to the Sunday morning programming of one of Denver's more popular AM radio stations, KIMN.

I later became the proud owner of a portable cassette player, giving me the ability to - imagine this - listen to my own selection of music. But while cassettes had their uses, it was always difficult to hear the songs you wanted and skip the ones you didn't without a lot of hit-and-miss maneuvering with the fast-forward and rewind buttons. But I persevered through this exercise in masochism - it was all I knew.

To get around the situation, I mixed some excellent cassettes of running music, complete with the fingernails-on-a-blackboard sound of needles indelicately placed on the records, the scratches and skips on the records themselves and the songs cut off halfway through as the cassette ran out of tape.

My personal favorite was when you taped over old music and occasionally bits of the old songs bled through onto the new songs. It created a creepy back-masking feel to the cassettes, though when the Police suddenly burst into the middle of a Generation X song, Sting's death was never hinted at.

If this all seems a bit scary to the kids out there, raised on the splendor and ease of digital technology, consider this frightening practice, common among the young during the Neanderthal days of technology:

I used to hold a tape recorder, with a built-in microphone the size of a postage stamp, close to the radio and wait patiently for just the right song. Using this method, I created a music catalog filled with murky copies of Carpenters tunes as well as Glen Campbell's "Country Boy" and "Rhinestone Cowboy," complete with DJs talking into the opening chords.

But all that horror is past, and now I've got this nifty iPod mini that holds 1,000 songs of my very own choosing (no Glen Campbell), doesn't require an eight-pack of AA batteries and allows me to easily skip the songs that don't match the mood of that day's run.

I have yet to be sucked into the iPod accessories black hole, filled with designer cases and holders and confusingly unnecessary remote controls, and even iPod clothing complete with iPod pockets. The concept of "personalizing" my iPod makes about as much sense as "personalizing" my blender. (Though "adding fun and personality" to my iPod with an adhesive "Napoleon Dynamite" cover is tempting.)

Because I have resisted the culture of iPod, whether or not I am part of the "iPod generation" might be debatable. But better that than the "AM radio wrapped around my neck" generation.

Reporter Heidi Gaiser may be reached at 758-4431 or by e-mail at hgaiser@dailyinterlake.com.