Sonicstage Mac [ Full HD ]
I right-click. I select “Convert Format.” A dialog box appears. It is written in the language of a hostile bureaucracy. “Convert to ATRAC3 (132 kbps) – Standard Mode – Allow Check-Out (1)”
I sit in the glow of my iMac G4, the one with the floating arm. On my screen is a window. Inside that window is Windows 98. Inside that Windows 98 is SonicStage 1.5. It looks like a CD jewel case from a dentist’s waiting room—all gradients and tiny, threatening icons.
The problem is the software.
The year is 2003. The world is silver and translucent blue. I am seventeen, and I have made a terrible mistake. sonicstage mac
Then, I drag that file into the Windows window. The emulator shudders. The fans on my iMac spin up. The cursor becomes a spinning hourglass that is somehow even more anxious than the Mac’s beach ball. SonicStage detects the file. It does not like it. SonicStage wants WAV. SonicStage wants ATRAC. It wants blood.
Sony, in their infinite wisdom, has decided that the Mac is a toy for graphic designers and poets. They have not written a driver, let alone an application. To put music on my MiniDisc, I must run a Windows emulator.
The ritual begins.
Thirty seconds. A minute. The emulator crashes. A grey window appears: “SonicStage has encountered an error and needs to close.”
My mistake is shaped like a Magic Gate. It’s a Sony Net MD Walkman, the MZ-N707. It’s gorgeous—a brushed-metal sliver that fits in the palm of my hand. It’s not an iPod. The iPod is for people who gave up. The iPod is a hard drive with earphones. This? This is a machine . It has gears. It has a spinning disc inside a caddie. It has a tiny laser that reads a tiny, beautiful disc. I am not a sheep. I am a connoisseur.
I wait.
This is how I spend my Saturday nights.
I close it. I unplug the MiniDisc. I plug it back in. I restart the emulator. I restart the Mac. I go downstairs and get a glass of water. I come back. The music is still there. No. It’s not. The disc is empty. The green checkmark was a lie. Uwe has failed me.