I was at the Ossington a month and a half ago and this song came on. I recognized it, both as having heard it sometime in the distant past and also as being awesome. However, I couldn’t quite place it at the time, possibly due to having just been drinking the largest glass of rum I’ve ever been poured at a bar. So I unholstered my trusty futurephone and let Shazam do the footwork.

It was able to capture the song over the din of the place… but when I found out how it worked… Well, to be honest, I still don’t know how it works. So I will instead illustrate my understanding of matters.

There is a shadowy cabal based in the depths of the Himalayas. Through massive radio dishes and staticky telephone lines and the sweat of sherpas’ brows they are brought all sound. All recorded sound comes to them and they listen.

They are forever listening.

Once they have listened and adjudged something as a “song”, they brand it. They brand it with a sizzling iron sunk deep into the softest flesh of the file. And though we cannot hear it, they have made their mark. Shazam knows, though. It can ferret out and understand the clicks and blips and whirrs. Pregnant with this subsonic sound, it speaks to the cabal in Mercurial whispers, driven by the motionless press of a roundrect icon. This is how you tap their knowledge. And this is how you too are marked.

Advertisements