This iPod Video doesn’t know what’s coming for it (I’m changing the battery and upgrading the storage). Photo: A. Patterson
Music

The price of nostalgia

By Alayna Patterson

When I was 16 years old, I never got into the family car without a pair of wired headphones and my iPod Touch. It was a ritual most sacred: a time of day I looked forward to the most. I could silence out the world for just a fraction of time, escape the seemingly endless woes of adolescent dread, and daydream of a life that wasn’t my own.

My iPod was 8GB and could hold a measly 2000 songs. Still, it was my most prized possession – a day was made or unmade if headphones broke, the screen froze, or the battery died. It was a precious relic: the manifestation of efforts made to sync my small collection of CDs I had at home, and organise all the songs given to me by friends on USB sticks or burnt CDs (people with far superior music tastes than my own). These are songs I remember all the lyrics to; 12 years later I still scream out to them during hours spent home alone, and on car trips with the people I cherish.

The first iPod had its 24th birthday this past October. The iconic design was 5GB, and could contain a whopping 1000 songs; all within a metal rectangle that could fit into any pocket.

Now, dear reader, I’m aware it’s 2025. We have the smartphone: a phone, camera, music player, video player, eReader, handheld gaming console and small computer, all in one. Phones can even fold now. Why write a eulogy for some old piece of tech?

Abby Davis, a member of the r/iPod and r/ipodclassic communities on Reddit, recently returned to using iPods three months ago: “It’s just been really calming to step back mentally into a time where I wasn’t constantly surrounded by tech. We got everything we wanted – the world at our fingertip – and now all I want is for that to go away.”

I thought of my teenage self, equipped with her iPod Touch, when Davis said this.

YouTuber DiggingTheGreats likens smartphones to a Swiss-army knife. While a compact size, it doesn’t replace the better version of the tool. If I’m helping my mate move and he forgot to bring a screwdriver, I can give him my Swiss Army knife to resolve that pickle. However, when I’m assembling furniture in my home and I’ve got a screwdriver in my toolbox, I’m not going to reach for my Swiss Army knife. I’m going to walk to my garage and get the right tool for the job.

An iPod is a tool. A single-use device, used for a sole purpose alone. A way to listen to music portably. This matters.

“I’m seeing a huge jump in interest in iPods that began a couple of years ago and am loving every minute of it,” Brenda C-W, another member of the iPod online community, said. “I hated being interrupted constantly … and really prefer to dedicate myself to one device at a time. My stress and anxiety levels decreased dramatically when I did.”

Vinyls made a significant chunk in music sales in the past couple years. While you can buy vinyls from some corporate giants, it’s a way to support your local record shop, and support musicians directly.
However, they’re big. While I enjoy the ritual of sliding a record out of its sleeve, placing it on my turntable and listening to it all in one go, I can’t take this with me everywhere. They’re complicated to rip music off and on to a computer then sync to a device. It’s not a pocket-sized solution.

Walkmans are available for purchase online. Carrying a stack of CDs around isn’t ideal, though. If you’re wanting a variety of music on your person, or if you want to listen to a specific track on a specific album while you’re out, flipping through a CD case becomes an ordeal.

We could stream, even if the cost of a Spotify monthly subscription is $15.99, and artists on average are paid between $0.0003 or $0.0005 per track, per stream. Sure, the price of purchasing multiple albums every month could be pricey, and if you’re buying new CDs, they can’t be recycled. But the energy required to upkeep a streaming service is substantial, and that was before AI was in the picture.

Purchasing songs digitally off platforms like Bandcamp can be listened to and streamed on the app and directly supports artists, but you’re using a device that constantly bargains for your attention, pulling you in all directions. We aren’t just listening. We’re listening and probably scrolling as well.

Streaming services typically don’t allow you to maximise your music listening experience. Ownership and curation of your taste is something a single-use device allows you to maximise. There’s no algorithm making this easy for you. You’re forced to discover music – outside your normal tastes – on your own.

An iPod advertisement, taken in 2007. Photo: Debbi and Dave Hansen-Lange/CC/flickr
An iPod advertisement, taken in 2007. Photo: Debbi and Dave Hansen-Lange/CC/flickr

The minutes spent clawing through CD bins, or crawling through genres on Bandcamp (or your chosen digital music shop), is part of the process and is a combination of effort and love of the process. You pick what gets synced, and your money supports artists directly.

If you modify your iPods – whether for a better soundcard, larger battery, or more storage – there sits your little metal and plastic device that’s become a work of art. A combination of efforts, and a reintroduction to intention. The iPod is an instrument to engage with the world in a way that reflects one’s ideals and beliefs.

While writing this, I wiped the dust from an iPod Video I bought earlier this year. Between assignments and housework, I’ve been taking the time to sort out my physical and digital music collections. I reminisce the good and bad of a past life. I remember the reasons I want to support local business, and support artists in their craft.

Having an iPod allowed me to more intentionally engage with the artists I love and the community surrounding music collecting. I’m a better writer, student, and person because of it. It’s allowed me to expand my taste uninterrupted by the algorithms who buy and sell people’s attention for gain. The process of ripping, downloading, and syncing music to my iPod is part of that intentional engagement I’ve craved since I lost it with the convenience a smartphone gave.

As I continue in my endeavours, perhaps it’ll allow me to live that life my teenage-self daydreamed about, looking out to a rainy Auckland street. Or perhaps I’m growing old and tired.

Featured image: This iPod Video doesn’t know what’s coming for it (I’m changing the battery and upgrading the storage). Photo: A. Patterson

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