This week, we’re taking a little road trip around these United States. State to state by way of songs with states in the title. Gimmicky, sure, but it’ll be worth your while. So come on …

Just hours before the 2nd presidential debate, Missionary Ridge Radio offers a break from the storm of ridiculousness with a stack of cover songs. Country folks doing pop songs. Pop folks doing country songs.

Come on along … let’s go dancin’ in the light before it gets too dark.

Well, you can’t really have country songs (or county-like songs) without a fair amount of impending doom, so here’s a bunch of brilliant songs by women.

In this episode, Missionary Ridge Radio covers a lot of theological ground, from Jesus The Capricorn to Jesus The Placekicker to The Jesus Who Lives In My Television. On either side of this devotional block, we listen to Waylon, Buddy Holly, The Drive-By Truckers, Gregg Allman and even The Boss himself.

Iâ€d come up with the name, an amalgamation of my favorite niche metal band at the time (Blue Murder) and the title of a James Ellroy true crime novel that Iâ€d been too young to read but enjoyed immensely (The Black Dahlia).

We knew three songs. I played bass. Sort of.

One evening after school, I get a phone call. It was Rodney, our lead guitarist. He never called all that much, so when he did, there was usually something that needed to be said, a rehearsal to be scheduled, a thing to be done.

“Hey,” he says to me. “I came up with something on guitar and I want to play it for you.”

“Over the phone? Now?”

“Yeah,” he answered.

I said okay and listened to the click and pop and thunk that always accompanied a by-phone listening session. Always an exercise in wondering just what was happening when.

And then he started to play. I was rapt, had never heard him play so well. Heâ€d always been a scratch guitarist, a riff here and there, all of it self-taught by listening and re-listening with a tape deck. But this was something so much better. Heâ€d made something almost beautiful, melodic with elements that sounded (to my young ears) classical and like something to be played in the court of a king.

He finished, then he picked up the phone with more bumps and fumbles. “So whatâ€dya think?”

“That was awesome, man, whenâ€d you learn all that?”

He chuckled a bit and said, “I just made it up as I went.” Then he said goodbye, hung up the phone.

I was stunned. I felt like my rudimentary bass skills had dropped even further in quality just from the experience of hearing what Rodneyâ€d invented out of thin air.

Weeks passed and rehearsals happened, but Rodney never played that bit of music ever again. I asked him to and heâ€d say we had to work on the band songs. All three of them.

Later in the summer, however, I heard something on the radio that sounded remarkably familiar. So familiar as to be note for note with what Iâ€d heard over the phone back in the spring.

It was the rolling acoustic guitar intro to Teslaâ€s 1989 summer hit “Love Song.”

“Love is gonna find a way back to you … yeah … I know …”

I never confronted Rodney about it.

Daksha (दक्षा) is a Hindi word meaning “skillful” or “brilliant.”

When he was adopted, the shelter had named him Van for his breed. Daksha was better. On his right flank was a little orange-brown spot. His Spot of Allah, as Turkish Van aficionados call it.

He was very particular about his water and his food. He could be contrary and ornery, but never mean. He didn’t tolerate over-sleeping that kept him from having breakfast any later than 6:30am. And he expected a nightly little snack around 10pm.

He would sit in the front foyer of the house and look out the window-pane of the front door. From there, he and his sister defended the house from other cats in the neighborhood that dared to step onto the porch. He’d rear up and bat loudly at the window until they left. Other times, he would sit on the window sill in the kitchen, behind the curtains. When he would sit there, if you batted at the curtain, he would bat back with just one paw.

He knew when people were coming home, his little face at the door as headlights shone when turning into the driveway.

He didn’t like leaving the house for any reason and would complain immediately. NPR on the car radio would soothe him sometimes when he needed to go to the vet, either for checkups or more serious things. His doctors and nurses kept calling him “she” — usually with “she’s so pretty.” I didn’t always correct them.

He liked to be scratched behind the ears and under his chin. He didn’t purr easily. You had to earn it. And it was always worth the little extra effort.

He made little cat sounds. Little grunts, or little trills like a turtle dove. “Prrrble” sounds.

He would walk into a room, decide it was time to stay put, then flop to one side with another little cat noise. As if sometimes relaxing was far more important than being graceful. Once on his side, he would maneuver across the carpet like a little sidewinder snake, just dragging along. Even when he had all four legs.

He loved shopping bags, the eco-friendly kind. Running into them and making them slide on the carpet and then hiding in a little cave of his own making. A cat in a bag.

He would bump your leg if he liked you.

He had favorite blankets. He would know when I was about to take a nap and hop right up on my chest and settle in, tucking his paws under and purring and looking at me.

If you couldn’t find him, chances are he’d be nesting in a hamper of dirty clothes. Or he’d hide under the bed, at the head of the bed, just too far for an arm to reach.

He was the best model. I taught myself how to use my DSLR (and any new lenses) by taking pictures of him. He would pose and be regal and I’d get used to focal points and how they worked.

He would place himself in the doorway of a room, positioned and angled just so he could watch the whole room but also the hallway. In the winter, he loved sitting by the heater, his heater, usually curled up in a little sherpa. Some nights I would find him just sitting in the middle of the living room. Sitting there in the dark. Sphinx-ing, I’d call it.

After he lost his leg, he was faster than he was on four. Could leap just as high and landed without a sound. Made his way up and down stairs and never needed to lean on any wall.

Had no patience for bad weather, not liking the sound of any weather that was louder than sunshine. But he did love sunshine. He sought out sunbeams and would find them to nap in, even if the floor was hard and uncomfortable.

He was such a very good boy.

And so, here’s to 2013. Specifically, here’s to the music that 2013 brought before my ears. As before (aside from 2012), these are in no particular order, so just imagine the whole list coming at you at once.

Janelle Monae – Electric Lady
I’ve been on the Monae train since 2007 and she never disappoints. What Monae is doing is purposefully epic, never just content to write a single that will chart, she approaches her music as all part of a unified whole. You can shake your ass to “Q.U.E.E.N.” or slow dance to “It’s Code,” but these and all of the other tracks on Electric Lady serve the tale she’s been telling since 2007’s Metropolis: Suite I (The Chase). And she isn’t done with her story of androids-in-love and a messiah on the run. Some complained about this release being a double album. Not me. Make the next a triple.

Chvrches – The Bones Of What You Believe
The future sounds like this, and this sounds like a flock of (mostly) happy computers singing in an English Scottish garden. Also, nothing hits my heart quite like the way Lauren Mayberry says “when it all f*cks up.” Gah. Writing about this album is saying too much about a thing that is just about perfect.

Daughter – If You Leave
A moody, wintery album on the almost-forgotten 4AD label? Nobody is surprised by this, of course. 4AD is who brought us those This Mortal Coil albums that we played alone in the dark in college and thought we’d discovered something incredibly secret and maybe a little dangerous. Like a little pet vampire. Daughter has a similar vibe, but far more substance. With lyrics like “Setting fire to our insides for fun / Collecting pictures from the flood that wrecked our home,” Daughter is not messing around. They’ve got your number, heartbroken folk.

Quadron – Avalanche
A couple of Danes have embraced the neo-soul movement that the US has let go fallow for far too long. The result is this. I was sold on their awesomeness with a video, so I’ll let that same video do the same.

Tanya Morgan – Rubber Souls
Without a doubt, my absolute favorite hip-hop album of the year. Yeah, I dug on Kanye’s Yeezus for about a week or so, but Rubber Souls gets the replay over and over and over. First, let’s get this out of the way: Tanya Morgan is not a girl, but instead a trio of three dudes from Cincinnati and Brooklyn (their 2009 album was called Brooklynati). Second, these guys are all about the craft, delivering amazing rhymes over even more amazing beats and doing it with an eye for reality and history. (And yeah, I gave you a Spotify link, but if you were thinking about putting real money toward anybody on this list, pick up Rubber Souls at iTunes.)

Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark – English Electric
When I was a little kid, trying so desperately to learn piano in a dusty backroom behind a bicycle shop, I had dreams of fronting an all-synthesizer band that would make it all worthwhile. As it happens, the piano and I parted ways in 1984, but this album sounds just like what I’d imagined.

Alice Smith – She
Though I discovered it a year or so after release, I played the hell out of Alice Smith’s first album. Or rather, her only album. Turns out that she was working on a second, but the studio shelved it. Indefinitely. And so, Alice Smith took to Kickstarter to fund her third album. I was happy to contribute. And the result is so damn good.

Justin Timberlake – The 20/20 Experience – Shut up. There is an artistry to really good pop music, and JT nails it, at least on this album. Sure, it could do with a little less Timbaland, but the same could be said of the planet Earth itself. A pity the same can’t be said of his second release, 2 of 2, but for these 10 tracks, Timberlake has his sh*t in order and makes it work. (And yes, I even like the tracks that change directions halfway through and stretch to six or seven minutes.)

John Grant – Pale Green Ghosts
If this album was nothing but “GMF” on repeat 11 times, it would still be in my 2013 top ten. The lyrics are way too personal, but brilliant because of it. And where you’d expect such confessional and (occasionally) scathing words to be supported by just a simple acoustic guitar, Grant has pulled in a galaxy of spare and icey electronica. The result is fantastic driving music, particularly if you’ve a long distance to go and nothing but night before you.

Chelsea Wolfe – Pain Is Beauty
Spooky as hell, but solid, Chelsea Wolfe calls what she does “drone-metal-art-folk.” Sure, let’s go with that. Her songs are sweeping, cold, haunting. In other words, she’s creating what every low-end goth band wants to claim as their own. The difference is that Chelsea Wolfe does it with style, elegance and a lack of artifice.

And there you have it. My year in music, give or take a few.

Your turn.

Lear is not old or doddering or losing his sense, but very mindful that time is a harsh and unyielding thing. As such, it is better he divide his kingdom now when he is still possessed of all his faculties. This makes his descent in the play all the more tragic, because it happens not because of time and the necessity of old age, but by tragic circumstance and decisions made.

So I did.

Wait, what?

I should explain. My career is in user experience. Since 2005, I’ve been an information architect, a usability specialist, a user experience architect, a UX advocate and a UX strategist. I think about human interaction for a living. But in my spare time, I run a theatre company. For about as long as I’ve been in UX, I’ve been directing productions of outdoor Shakespeare. I’m pretty good at it, having been nominated for a couple of local drama awards. In 2012, I won. And part of my peculiar craft is framing up scenes with a DSLR camera. This helps me to see in rehearsal what an audience will see in performance. The trouble is, a snapping shutter can be distracting.

So I tweeted. And nothing much happened until eventually I started to notice a few mentions on Twitter. The selecting had begun.

I was not among the first chosen. And perhaps my idea wasn’t as original as I thought. Maybe it was too obscure. Regardless, I wasn’t picked for the team and to be honest, that was cool by me. I knew at least one person who was selected and some initial research into availability and cost had me convinced mostly that perhaps I was better off.

But five weeks after my initial tweet, a reply appeared from ProjectGlass.

I was in. They even said “Woohoo!”

I … won?

But the situation hadn’t changed all that much. At the predicted cost, there was no way I was going to make the purchase on my own. I’ve been a technophile for most of my life, but rarely have I crept out onto the bleeding edge. When the iPad was first introduced, I won one in a random drawing at a UX conference. I was happy to have it, but I didn’t open it. I carried it carefully through the TSA line at LaGuardia, then brought it safely home. Over the course of travel, I’d decided to sell the iPad on eBay and use the proceeds for a couple of Kindles. Because to me, the first generation iPad was a lot of potential, but wouldn’t come into its own until the 2nd or 3rd. So I don’t quite fit the first adopter demographic.

But this is where MRY comes in.

I was chosen, but what if I let MRY (my award-winning place of employ) pick up the bill? They’d own the device, effectively, but I’d be its advocate, its keeper. In return, I’d do write-ups (like this one), do research and learn the ins and outs of this revolution-in-the-making. More than anything else, I’d determine how to propose user experience for Glass and the devices inevitably to come in its wake.

So that’s what happened.

(It was a longer process than just a simple sentence, but let’s go with the short “that’s what happened” version.)

The Pick Up

It’s worth talking about the experience of picking up Glass. For one thing, it was done in person. No shipping and handling here. If you wanted Glass, you were going to have to take your pick of Los Angeles, San Francisco or New York City, then come and get it. I went with New York, because MRY has an office there, and because any excuse to be in New York is a good excuse, even briefly.

After an afternoon of meetings, I made my way from our 19th Street office to Google’s presence above Chelsea Market. On a typical day, this would be five or six blocks of nothing much, but I’d selected the Hottest Day of 2013 as far as Manhattan was concerned. I’d arrived just early enough to stumble into the Market and park myself under one of those glorious ceiling fans, at least long enough to stop seeing mirages. Cooler than I’d been, I took the elevator and stepped out at the eighth floor.

A bouncer-esque security guard diverted me quickly to a pair of receiving Google Guides. Seems security guard had seen enough of my ilk in the last few weeks and he wasn’t having any unnecessary questions. But no matter, as my name was taken, my ID was asked for, and I was checked against a list of appointments for the day. Not only had I selected just where to make the pick up, but what date and time. I was told to take a seat under a quite attractive carving of the Glass logo.

The waiting reading material was perfectly staged and likely had never been touched. Who wants to read a magazine when the future is only yards away?

Or write a letter home, for that matter?

But I didn’t need to concern myself with reading or writing, as my name was called and I met my Guide. I followed him into a room of stand-up table-desks, each with a pair of stools. The far wall was nothing but window. It was open and a little echoey and very impressive. Also, it was full of people, from other Guides to new Explorers like myself. The very definition of hustle and bustle. My Guide asked if I wanted to try any of the other colors before seeing my particular Glass. I’d made up my mind when I ordered, but I tried on a grey pair to be polite. No, I was good to go with the black, thanks.

Black seemed safest, as it is near impossible to wear Glass without announcing to the world at large: “Hello, I have something unusual on my head, please look at it.”

And in my particular case, I’ve something on my head already. I wear glasses. I’ve a number of different frames that I will interchange on various days. After an abortive attempt at contacts in high school, I’ve come to accept and appreciate my spectacles as practical accessories. And while I’d heard of other Explorers going with contacts prior to picking up their Glass, I decided to just go with it and wear what I’d usually.

More on this in a minute …

The presentation is like that of joining a secret society. Or perhaps just more like a Jedi picking up their first lightsaber. The box is huge for a thing so relatively small. And while my preconception was that the device would be fragile in the extreme, the construction is remarkably solid. The metal band is of titanium, including the thin padded supports meant to rest on your nose. It comes with a flat charging cable, a box of replacement nose pads, a clear shield, a dark-tinted shield and a plastic-reinforced drawstring pouch.

What I went through next was, for all intents and purposes, a fitting. No different than a trip to the optometrist’s to pick up a prescription pair. I was told to try them on, over my glasses and without a shield.

So how is it with prescription glasses?

Not nearly as uncomfortable as you might imagine. This experience is largely frame dependent, as it turned out the frames I wore that day were fairly well aligned with the titanium band. The spindly nose pieces didn’t quite rest on my face, but the band rested atop my frames. After adjusting the tiny monitor (hinged to bring it near and away), I was able to see the current time and the words “OK Glass.” This is the Glass homescreen, there to keep you from being late and to remind you of the starting phrase for any voice command.

After a brief setup for wifi, Google search is introduced and with good reason. Because when search on Glass works and works well, the result is fantastic. A simple voice command is all it takes to get information immediately and directly. “OK Glass, Google what is the weather in Manhattan?” And like that, the temperature appears on the tiny prism of a screen and a voice vibrates into your right ear saying the temperature and current conditions.

(Note: Glass did not reply, “The temperature in Manhattan today is that of being mere inches from the surface of the Sun,” so I have to dock it for accuracy.)

After a walk-through of the accompanying website — which necessitated a return to my mostly unvisited Google+ profile — and a few other firsts (first photos, first videos), I was presented with a shopping bag and sent on my merry way. I’d intended on taking Glass for a maiden voyage up Ninth Avenue to my hotel, but the heat of New York Summer hadn’t relented.

I took a cab instead.

Symphony of No

It has been made very clear to me that there are situations where Glass is not wanted. How clear? Quite. “You do understand that you are not going to wear Glass while we hang out, right? A whole opera of no. A symphony of no. Backed by numerous orchestras of mocking.” An exact quote, I might add. And while it might seem hyperbolic to have such a reaction, there are a few facets of Glass that do much to encourage wariness.

Let’s be honest for a moment. Glass is a decidedly peculiar look.

Author Neil Gaiman has even gone on record saying he would never wear them. Why? Because “they look very, very silly.” And this is from the man who gave his most famous creation, Morpheus, the strangest headgear in all of comic book history.

In this way, Glass is not subtle. As much as it wants to keep out of the way, there is no denying that there is indeed a small and glittery prism hanging over your right eye. And if the Explorer went the extra mile of selecting a more colorful model (as was suggested to me), that prism is suspended on an arm of orange or blue or white. But beyond this, there is the concern that perhaps the wearer isn’t paying all that much attention to the humans around them actually. As someone who has caught no small amount of grief for glancing at my iPhone once too often, the lure of a possibly constant stream of new information is quite effective.

As of this writing, I’ve the option to select feeds including my own Gmail (though only my primary), Facebook, Twitter, Google +, the New York Times, and Elle magazine. With time, one can imagine only more options will arrive and compete for that limited and choice real estate. I’ve had friends joke about an over-interested Glass user stepping into traffic or meeting a Stop sign head-on, but with so much information only a blink away, it might not be far from truth.

But in addition to concerns over aesthetics and politeness, but there are other, more pressing matters. For one thing, there is no obvious indication that Glass is actively recording a video. There is no “On Air,” to borrow from network news. While it is likely that a given subject would hear the Glass Explorer utter the magic words (“OK Glass, Record a Video”), a simple press of a button turns the default 10 second record window into a span as endless as there is storage remaining on the device. The effect, albeit mostly psychological, is akin to having a conversation with someone who never stops aiming a camera at your face.

So How Are They?

I’m still early days into my personal experience with Glass. A technology so new and different requires attempts at integration. Rehearsals commence for the play soon, so I’ll give them a try there. Additionally, I’m going to be taking Glass to various places around town, not only to see how they work in the field, but to get a feel for how they’re being received live.

When I picked up my Glass, I asked my Google Guide (who was wearing his own Glass at the time) if he found himself staring into the Middle Distance more often than he’d ever before. He cocked his head a bit and answered, “Um, I … I don’t think so?” He’d gotten used to them. To him, they were a new normal.

So there is a chance that time is all one really needs. Time to get used to this infernal device that fetches answers from thin air and delivers them right into your eye. Time to blend in with the crowd.

So let’s start exploring.

Five years and a month later, I was surprised to find that particular ZIP hanging out on a mostly abandoned file sharing website. Once I remembered the password, I reclaimed that stack of tracks and threw them back into the hopper for another go. I wanted to see if the transitions still worked, if my ideas were still worth the effort back then. And with a few tweaks, mostly involving removing some occasional drops in action, I recombined them all into a new mix clocking in at just over 80 minutes.

Some observations: Erykah Badu was on this one as well. Robin Thicke was a lot more fun (and a lot less creepy) back then. Sharon Jones was a big damn deal. And everything is better with a little touch of AM Gold.

Oh, and that Janelle Monae girl? I told you she’d be awesome.

[mixcloud]http://www.mixcloud.com/thomasls/the-reclaimed-and-revisited-summeration-mix-for-2008/[/mixcloud]

Tracklist:
Intro (“Moving Right Along”) By Farm & Fun Time
Because Of Love By Janet Jackson
Love Hangover Featuring Estelle By Kidz in the Hall
Let Me Be Your Lover By Jimmy Bo Horne
Connected By Stereo MCs
Lazy Bones By Robin Thicke
SHE KNOWS By Gnarls Barkley
Underdogs By Manic Street Preachers
Talks to Kids About Drugs By Bill Cosby
Violet Stars Happy Hunting!!! By Janelle Monae
Beat Girl By John Barry
The Groove That Just Won’t Stop By Time machine
Tell it like it is By Soul
I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor By Baby Charles
Wanna Do My Thing By Matata
Your Thing Is A Drag By Sharon Jones & The DapKings
Save me By Nina Simone
Maybe Its Just Me By Butch Walker
Ruby Lee By Bill Withers
Time – The Donut Of The Heart By J Dilla
Untitled (Follow Your Lead) By Coultrain
Honey (Captain Planet Remix) By Erykah Badu
I’d really love to see you tonight By England Dan & John Ford Coley
Love Will Never Do Without You By Janet Jackson