So I thought I’d give it a go. I’d check out this Xbox Music and the aptly titled “Xbox Music Pass”. For some reason the widespread animosity towards Microsoft and all things Windows had triggered my internal switch… that switch which causes me to fight whatever trend is trending… to support the “underdog”. You know that multibillion dollar international software conglomerate… underdog… yeah… right. So cast aside the HTC Desire and let’s check out this highly praised Lumia 920 Windows 8 shiny bright future partnership for Nokia and Microsoft thing with the native Xbox Music app with the streaming and downloading and the kit and the caboodle with the box and the dice.
And it worked well, I was surprisingly surprised. I found much to do of my current obsession. And it wasn’t Bruno Mars or Katy Perry. I’d discovered a piece of the 70s and early 80s I never understood… a piece of my childhood that was never explained… something I felt but never… knew. It was something that put BMX and skateboarding and skinny jeans and army shirts into perspective. Permanent marker, painting up your canvas bag with all the fuck-you-you-don’t-understand-me-so-fuck-you feeling you could get. It was the Frog Brothers. It was the first time round… the underground in the 80s… punk… hardcore… hardcore-punk… before Kurt walked out into the spotlight and disintegrated.
Oh yeah… my point… if all this underground hardcore punk stuff that was mostly distributed on cassettes… yeah tapes… and had album covers drawn with texta, could be found easily on the fucking Microsoft music store… then they’d probably have what I’m looking or next time I need to find something obscure.
So I signed up… I said “Let me trial your service!” and I thought those thoughts and I downloaded those tapes and I synchronised and streamed and downloaded and streamed and synchronised and sang and danced and streamed. And when the month did end my time for decision did come, I did say “Let it roll over!”, thinking of both Chuck Berry and Jet and favouring neither, and I woke to my first day as a full paying customer.
Twelve bucks… per month… three coffees, a jug of beer, a hamburger, a half-decent curry… it’s nada… it’s nothing. Compared to what I usually waste on food and drink … and music is food and drink! And right now this is not waste this is feeding my soul. Praise the lord!
“We are unable to confirm the media usage rights for this content.”
Why?! … No … not me … I gave you a chance.
And the music died.
So I went to The Google and I searched for the error message and I found there were more like me. Many more. The trial ended, the error started. Solutions were recommended.
“Turn the such-and-such off and then go to the third thingy and turn it off and then on again and it’ll start working”, said one.
Another proposed, “hold it upside down on a Thursday but only in a thunderstorm so that the static zoom will zamm it back to its correct quantum state.”
My most loved and my most hated however said, “Reset your phone to factory settings.”
Ok, drastic. But hey, I’m a programmer. I understand state. I understand that sometimes things can just get into such muddle that the easiest way out is to just start again. But really? In 2013? The age of the smart phone?
Settings > About > Reset Phone > OK Go!
No. Oh No. Oh Shit.
And so my phone was bricked. Dead. Useless. Because I signed up to a music streaming service. Because I signed up to a fucking music streaming service. Fucking what?
I was however able to bring the brick back from the depths of hell. It was not sent to the great big bucket in the sky, the bucket of leads at the back of the hall cupboard. I went back to The Google (because fuck you Bing… fuck you to hell and back. I’m not giving you the fucking pleasure). And Google did tell of solutions. Solutions to download new firmware and flash the phone and properly get that device running like a new phone again.
I downloaded the such-and-such and copied the zang into the zum and selected the bub and reset the bob (but not before the bib!) and the progress bar progressed and screen flashed back to life in all its colourful magnificence. It came back to life. And run again it did. I started it up. It restored my apps. I opened the music app and it worked. It fucking worked.
It downloaded the music and streamed the music and synchronised my catalogue and did all the godly things required of the streaming downloading music subscribing app thingy.
But why did it take me two hours of searching and downloading hacks to restore my phone back to its original state? Why? And why did something so simple as progressing from trial to full subscription fail?
This is embarrassing for Microsoft. This needs to be dealt with. Cataclysmic failure should not happen for such a simple process.
My mind is wandering away from Redmond and back towards Mountain View.