From a Music Aficionado to another:
Yes, we can...

A few weeks ago in a New York Times article, Rogier Van Bakel proposed a question to iPodders, Jukebox-Zen-nists, Yepp-ers, and mp3 users alike: Can an MP3 Glutton Savor a Tune? Being a music fan, his question did catch my eye; in fact, I held on to that article as a reminder to me that I am part of a very huge music community, a community that has changed the way we listen and appreciate music forever. I read on about this baby-boomer's road trip from the past with Talking Heads, David Bowie, and such. About the man who appreciates every CD he's bought, and the quest to remember the songs he's downloaded not too long ago. But what I'll remember the most about the article was his defining phrase that described perhaps me and the entire mp3 community; a phrase so scintillating, I'll even put it in his own words:

"...instead of engaging in the gluttony that has become the norm for many music fans... where my musical greed would go dangerously unchecked."

One might call this dabbling a NYT rebuttal. And I don't know about you, but I don't appreciate being called a music glutton, or a glutton of any other kind. As a proud owner of a 10GB iPod and about 96 or 97 albums, there is never a time where my music goes unappreciated. I may have seemed a little nuts in my quest to fill my iPod with 2000+ songs, but that music is the music I grew up with, the music I hummed to, the soundtrack that has been my life. And to recall that music and own that music is not a crime.
As of this writing, for the first time in my music experience, I have access to over 2000 songs (2023, to be exact) on my miraculous mp3/m4a player. That's not even my total music collection (CD's, tapes, 9 records and 2 8-tracks); but it's nearing that point. At some point last week, I went on a trip way back to my adolescence, when I was 6 and living in Park Slope near the Latino neighborhood, and people had on Miami Sound Machine all day long. And at the night, Phil Collins and Miami Vice took over the soundsystems across the city. You Belong to The City was the hottest track around, and Jan Hammer was a God of sorts.
There was a reggae song from the mid 90's that I remember. The main chorus went something like:

Principle, entertainers need a principle
It doesn't matter if you are the people's choice
the people will tire to hear to your voice
Boring, dancehall can get real boring
If you hold the mic like say you holding your woman...

It was a catchy tune, one I admired, and one I was never able to tape the full version of from my radio. Some 7 or 8 years later, I stumbled on Dancehall Principle, by Tony Rebel and Garnett Silk. The joy in my ears (and the agony in other people's ears) flooded back memories of junior high, where Toni Braxton and Babyface were a hot music pair.
Then as I got around to developing feelings for the opposite sex, my craving for R&B ran to people like Jermaine Jackson, Chuckii Booker, and Troop, whose songs (Don't Take It Personal, Turned Away, and All I Do Is Think Of You respectively) always put me in that groove. Artists like The System, Al Jarreau, and George Benson helped give me an appreciation for landscape; and during the early nineties, all my drawings were either of a moonlit beach, a long breezy road, or summer rain on flower petals. As my parents partied to their funk music, all I heard was Stomp! by Brothers Johnson, and other songs by Heatwave, Parliament, Rick James, and Earth, Wind & Fire. My mother adored Regina Belle, praised Jennifer Holiday, and nearly worshipped Whitney Houston; drowning the rest of us along with her in the process. My only solace could be found in my bedroom radio, where Bobby Brown, Ralph Tresvant, After 7, and Mint Condition brought me back to the present R&B/pop culture.
Cooking was boring at first, but when my brother made me listen to Beethoven, Mozart, Domingo, and Pavarotti, cooking wasn't so boring anymore. And it wasn't the Baroque/Classical classy numbers that we enjoyed, but the more memorable pieces we hear in commercials that get us going.
I remember doing deliveries with an Syrian back in high school, and the only thing he knew was Hani Shaker, the Prince of Arabic Music. Little by little, I found myself intrigued by the man and his melodies, and now I own 5 of his albums. Then I got to hang around with the Jamaicans and West Indians, my people. I learned to appreciate Shadow and Barrington Levy more so with them than when my father beat it down my throat. And who can forget my first year of college, when all my friends from Mid Eurasia (Ukraine, Russia, that part) beat me down with Europop, and the many levels Garage, trance, and electronica music. In making this long story short, I've escaped to different cultures through different points of my life with music; and capturing all those points into one deck o' cards was my mission; that with the deck of cards, my iPod, I can go anywhere, at anytime, to anypoint in my life, without losing track of today's greats.

While this sounds like a kat with a grand musical taste, what this doesn't sound like is a kat who downloads for the sake of downloading, or a kat who buys for the sake of buying. Despite what my mother says, the music I buy is not just a pile of plastic. Prince CDs, George Michael CDs, Michael Jackson or Lionel Richie tapes cannot be found in the same category as a pile of plastic. From the cover to the written lyrics, they are history. Come to think of it, if you've ever seen Glenn Lewis' Don't You Forget It music video, where he first surrounded with his wide array of albums (including my MJ Off The Wall album), my collection is kind of like that.

An interesting question was just aroused from my 88/93/98/03 playlist: How can you put No Letting Go and Don't Disturb This Groove on the same playlist? I smiled and said, "the same way I put Arabic and Italian-pop music on the same player, 'cause it's my life, my soundtrack." And it's a living testament to the music I loved 15 years ago, 10 years ago, 5 years ago, and now. Nothing against Mr. Van Bakel's observations, but it takes a pro to have 2000+ songs in one collection, and appreciate all 2000+ songs at the same time. Actually, this must make me a novice, because I know mp3-ers with 6000 songs that can take any one song and recall the importance of it in their players. One iPodder I know call his iPod My Radio, and I need not discuss why. And I'm sorry Rogier, but if you have a hard time remembering what you downloaded last week, you'll probably not have the savory glands that we have...

But then again, this dude must be in his 40s or 50s. I'm 21 years old with this love for music, not withstanding the twenty and thirtysomethings with this kind of music appeal. And I'm sure others would agree that that's not a bad thing.