Review, Rhapsody Music Service:

I’ve been signed up with Rhapsody for a while now. It works with my smart-phone, so like a cat that can cook breakfast, it has my begrudging respect. I like not owning the music, believe it or not. This is not to be confused with not wanting to own any music, ever. When you own music, it is like having an egg that you can crack at any moment and release a bird that must return to the shell when it finished singing. With this, the bird can fly away after a month and I don’t have to worry about where to put all the eggs.
Of course, music doesn’t care where you put it, unless of course it’s wrapped in my hated enemy, DRM, which Rhapsody songs are swaddled in. But they have only programmed it to die, to stop working, to leave the nest or however you’d like to think of it. Much like real life birds, they were made to make music and then fall from the sky.
That having been said, I don’t know if its Vista, or my USB port or the wires or the fat silver moon in the sky, but transferring a song from the Rhapsody client to my phone is slow as shit.
I usually have to pick a set of songs then leave my phone hooked up to my computer while I go sleep or sit on the porch or get ideas about the neighbors or eat ice cream and drink root beer at the same time to make miniature floats in my mouth or just live halfway in and halfway out of the city, wondering what people are thinking on the street.
When I come back, I’ve got a little tree with hundreds of birds on twice as many branches, all waiting to sing from my pocket.
Also, don’t call their tech support unless you like talking to an exasperated guy in another country who hates you and the software so much he wants to punch your grandfather’s coffin.