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We’ve been following MP3Tunes, an online music locker, since it launched in late 2005. It’s come a long way since then. Today the service has 500,000 users, and has released a variety of new products to help those users get access to their music from almost any Internet connected device.

The core of the service is a music locker. It finds music on your hard drive and then backs it up online over a period of days. You can then log in and stream that music from a browser.

But the service is a lot more interesting than that. It will also sync your music across devices, making sure, for example, that iTunes has the same song library on each of your computers. It will also grab those iTunes playlists and make them available elsewhere as well.

They’ve recently inked a deal with Roku and are in beta. MP3Tunes users can stream music that they previously only had on their hard drive through their television on the Roku device. Logitech has also built MP3Tunes into a variety of devices, including this Wifi Internet radio. More devices are coming shortly, says MP3Tunes.

But the best part of MP3Tunes are the mobile apps. The Android application in particular is extremely useful. If you buy a song on the Android via the built in Amazon store, for example, you can easily upload that song quickly to MP3Tunes, and then have it available on, say your iPhone or iPod touch (as well as your desktop and everywhere else). MP3Tunes is calling the syncing behavior behind these application “Buy Anywhere, Listen Everywhere” – see the video below:

A number of other third parties have built MP3Tunes into their software and devices as well via a robust open API. I’m a big fan of music services on my mobile devices since getting actual song files onto the device is usually cumbersome and requires at least a purchase or a tethering. I use MOG on my android device and am quite happy with it.

But I also like the idea of just having access to my entire music collection – all 60 GB of it – on any device at any time. I’m a long time user of MP3Tunes, and I’ve recently upgraded from the free version to the 100 GB of storage.

Soon we’ll all have a variety of music streaming services to choose from – from Apple and Google’s upcoming products to the MOGs and Spotifys of the world. But all will likely have a hefty monthly subscription fee of $10/month or so for any kind of mobile access. I already have my core music collection on my hard drive, bought and paid for (for the most part). I really don’t see a need to pay $120/year to keep paying for that music. MP3Tunes gives me a viable reason to keep just buying music outright and downloading it.

All this assume, of course, that MP3Tunes wins the longstanding EMI Group lawsuit against them. In the meantime, though, I like the service.

MP3Tunes is free for 2 GB of storage. They are moving to 10 GB free in the near term, and 50 GB is $40/year. 25% of active users upgrade to a paid version, says the company.

Welcome to the new music week. This one is full of '70s flashbacks. Sheryl Crow tries to convince us that she's a '70s Southern soul singer, Marc Cohn channels his inner Cat Stevens, Big Head Todd & the Monsters make us believe we're still living out of a 1970s VW van, and rapper Rick Ross lays down some tracks that feel like the great '70s soul sides… until you hear the lyrics. Ouch. I don't remember the '70s like that.

SKIP: Sheryl Crow, “100 Miles From Memphis”

Sheryl Crow wants you to know she digs soul music. She's all about peace and love and keeping it groovy in a '70s, “Superfly” kinda way. She's recruited Southern soul musicians and producers Doyle Bramhall II and Justin Stanley to convince you. She's written new songs with funky '70s horn lines to convince you. She covers Terrence Trent D'Arby's supremely soulful (if not '70s) song “Sign Your Name” with Justin Timberlake to convince you. She covers the Jackson 5's “I Want You Back” to close the deal. Listen to the tracks, and you'll swear you've grown a 'fro and are waiting for your bell-bottoms to come back from the cleaners. Put Crow's voice into the middle, and something goes wrong. Sheryl Crow is a great singer; she's just not a soul singer. And this album needs a soul singer. It pains me to say it, because I wanted to play this all summer.

WATCH the music video for Sheryl Crow's single “Summer Day.”

SKIP: March Cohn, “Listening Booth: 1970″

Forever caught in the shadow of his 1991 hit “Walking in Memphis,” Marc Cohn's new album (only his fifth in a 20-plus-year career) goes for covers instead of originals. As Cohn explains it, he spent his misspent '70s youth in a local record store, previewing new albums in a listening booth. Now the husky-voiced singer and his producer, John Leventhal, have deconstructed the songbooks of Paul Simon, John Lennon, Van Morrison, Cat Stevens, and eight other coffee-house classics. The problem? It's kind of a bore. Tempos slow to a crawl, and the volume rarely goes above a whisper. It's all very tasteful, but I wish they'd spent the time writing some new songs. Pick up some old vinyl if you want to recapture 1970.

WATCH Marc Cohn and John Leventhal discuss making “Listening Booth: 1970.”

PLAY: The Books, “The Way Out”

The New York duo return with their first full-length album since 2005's “Lost and Safe.” Vocalist Nick Zammuto and cellist Paul de Jong don't record songs as much as they throw sounds against the wall. “The Way Out” plays more like an audio sequel to “Blue Velvet” than it does a collection of tunes. Every track is a twisted tour through another private room where you're eavesdropping on someone's sordid secrets. The album is not easily ignored nor understood, and you may indeed be looking for the way out before it's over. Still, it's compelling as all hell and will give me something to tell my shrink at my next session.

WATCH the music video for the Books' song “A Cold Freezin' Night” .

PLAY: Big Head Todd & the Monsters, “Rocksteady”

Twenty-four years on, Big Head Todd & the Monsters are still super-jammy. While such contemporaries as Dave Matthews Band have shot into the mainstream stratosphere, BHTM play to a smaller but loyal legion of followers who dig their reliable, mid-tempo, laid-back grooves. “Rocksteady” doesn't mess with the formula, save for an appropriately dirty cover of Howlin' Wolf's “Smokestack Lightnin'.” Otherwise, it's sweet hippie bliss. Play it if you're a believer or if you have some patchouli and tie-dye you need to wear.

WATCH Big Head Todd & the Monsters perform the single “Beautiful.”

PLAY: Rick Ross, “Teflon Don”

The formula is simple: Rick Ross recruits Jay Z, Kanye West, Raphael Saadiq, Erykah Badu, Ne Yo, John Legend, and nearly every other hip-hip/neo-soul superstar to bring forth the rhythm and the rhyme. The rhythm is undeniably booty-quaking. You will move despite yourself. The rhyme, on the hand, is a baser affair: the usual two-dimensional playbook about n***as, b****hes, and the joys of telling people to f-off. What's a guy to do when his body wants to groove, but his mind wants to move beyond tired misogynistic hip-hop grandstanding? I guess that's why God invented the Roots. Play the music. Skip the rhymes.

WATCH the music video for Rick Ross' single “Super High.”

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In my years back home in the American South, I have
grown increasingly unsurprised at the tendency of evangelicals,
nativists, and "true patriots," to read Frost in an unserious manner.
 We need not make a conclusion if the poem is definitely of the opinion
that walls separate neighbors or instead create useful boundaries.  At
the very least, it is a poem that begs us to question the premise —
something which Palin et al. clearly don't understand.  Much like a
kitschy framed needlepoint "I took the one less traveled by, / And that
has made all the difference," a superficial reading of Frost may seem
nice — but it is still kitschy.  Nothing in "The Road Not Taken"
actually allows us to determine which road is, in fact, the one less
traveled by, or whether the difference made was a positive one or not.
 It simply says that we make choices not knowing the future, must make
our own decisions, and we cannot know what the alternate future could
have been.  It is a short poem, easily read as a statement of
individuality and independence, but it is fraught with doubt and
possible regret.

Friday, June 25, 2010 marks the sixtieth anniversary of the start of the Korean War.

This week I had the blessed honor of meeting Jack Larson. Jack is best known as Jimmy Olsen to George Reeves' Superman in the classic TV Series.

Jack has lived a remarkable life. He has walked with Garbo, cried with Monroe, and lived with Monty Clift. He's an accomplished author writing librettos for some of America's greatest contemporary operas. Jack is a walking history of the generation just on the other side of WWII.

Jack's rich life is tempered by the passing of his best boyhood pal Jerry Shup, who died on a hill fighting our Korean War. When Jerry's belongings were sent home, Jack received this poem Jerry had written on the front. Jack is such a noble man. I cannot help lament the loss of the contributions his friend Jerry might have made to society.

War, no matter how advised or patriotic it may be, is one of mankind's constant flaws. Thank you, Jerry Shup; your humanity still cries out for peace.

Thank you, too, to Brendon DeVore who edited this video so sensitively.

Shup's Song

You can have your army khaki; you can have your navy blue
But here's the kind of fighter I'll introduce to you.

His uniform is different it's the best you've ever seen
The enemy calls him Devil-dog, but his real name is Marine.

He trained in San Diego a place in no-man's land
He took the woe and hell of boot and came out a better man.

He stalked the plains of Pendleton and there learned the arts of war
Then staggered out on liberty to gripe about the Corps.

He sailed the broad the Pacific aboard a Swabbie ship
His stomach felt the ocean roar with every drunken dip.

He didn't go to breakfast, and he nibbled evening chow
He learned the salty ways of men stretched over a rolling bow.

He spent a night of liberty in far off old Japan
He learned the art of Orient love and drank with a slant-eyed man.

The sake and the incense - they reeled his head about
He barely made it to the docks before the ship pulled out.

He battled in Korea- the land that God forgot
Where the snow is sixty inches deep, and the sun in scorching hot.

He climbed a million mountains and twice as many hills
And in between the shrieking shells he took malaria pills.
From Inchon Strip to No-name Ridge to the frozen reservoir
He marched with twenty thousand men to the frozen hell of war.

He blessed the day that winter left And when the summer came
He sweat his aching body dry then drowned in the rain.

He was waiting for rotation - the likes he'd never see
While playing war with the Chinamen and swatting flies and fleas.

He climbed the hills he took the woe he glowed in victory
But the bravest thing he ever did was to down the deadly three.

Now the deadly three have taken their toll on more than one Marine
It's corned beef hash, and meat and beans, and noodles that make him scream.

They come in dry c-rations that tear a man in two
And for some good old stateside chow, he'd throw the book at you.

He fell on a hill in Korea one dread and misty morn
A hill where bullets and shrapnel have left their dreadful scorn.

They laid him in a stretcher they laid him where he fell
He had finished his bloody cruise into this bloody hell.

-Jerry Shup

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Known for extraordinary circus arts, Cirque du Soleil has taken a raucous, delightful detour. Banana Shpeel, now at the Beacon Theater, features the masterful troupe in a new show that's more theatrical than previous incarnations. Banana Shpeel showcases the company's acting chops, since it's structured as a variety/vaudeville revue. This round, Cirque speaks!

Or as it's unofficially billed: “Cirque du Schmelky,” named for Marty Schmelky (Danny Rutigliano), a loudmouthed barker boss who oversees a crazy collection of clowns, (the inspired Claudio Carneiro and Patrick De Valette) a gum-chewing secretary (a pitch-perfect Shereen Hickman), two assistants (Daniel Passer and Wayne Wilson) and a host of remarkable acts, which Schmelky introduces with great fanfare.

While it's more traditional comedy than abstract artistry, Banana Shpeel retains the signature Cirque du Soliel style — a heady mix of physical splendor. Elegant foot juggler Vanessa Alvarez is the wow factor that opens the show. She's joined by memorable performers, including amazing duo Preston Jamieson and Kelsey Wiens, astounding acrobat Dmitry Bulkin, and three Mongolian female contortionists who seemingly defy the laws of nature.

The choreography celebrates the body beautiful, while the costumes, as befits a revue, are colorful and sassy. Shpeel has the requisite shtick, wrapped around an eye-popping show with a lively musical score. One of the highlights: mime Carneiro parodies a date with an audience member and manages to be both funny and sublime. Banana Shpeel's tribute to vaudeville is big, brash, wild and wacky entertainment; in short, it's tops.

While Shpeel traffics in spectacle, Metal Children, now at the Vineyard Theater, is mired in present-day literary woes.

Billy Crudup, an accomplished actor in any medium, tackles a controversial topic in Adam Rapp's provocative new drama: The responsibility an artist has to his work. Tobin Falmouth (a compelling Crudup) is the author of Metal Children, a young adult novel that earned critical acclaim. A decade later, it's been banned from a school “in the heartland” because it addresses two hot-button topics: teen pregnancy and abortion.

The town's teens, like the ones in Tobin's book, are becoming pregnant, then mysteriously disappearing. The school board, led by the Good Christian Church, decides to seize all copies of the book and lock them away. Anyone brave enough to defend it, like Stacey, an enlightened English teacher (Connor Barrett), is violently harassed. Meantime, the teenagers' obsession with the novel, which distorts its intention, is frightening.

Rapp, who doubles as director, speaks from experience. Like his protagonist, he wrote a YA novel in 1997 and by 2005, it was struck from the curriculum at Muhlenberg High School in Reading, Pa. The slam against the Right seems appropriate, especially in light of recent Tea Party protests. Those who speak for God in Metal Children are either pompously condescending (Guy Boyd) or lonely busybodies (Betsy Aidem) who arrogantly believe they know what God wants. Both are blind to their own hypocrisies.

In fairness, Tobin is also a disappointment. Invited to defend his work, he is an emotional wreck, too busy wrestling with his own demons to tackle weighty literary concerns. When he meets 16-year-old Vera, a Metal devotee (a terrific Phoebe Strole), he's less savior than enabler. Tobin's passivity is as unnerving as his detractors' zeal. He misses an opportunity to champion uncomfortable truths. Rapp raises several critical issues in his play; his refusal to answer them is frustrating — a big minus in a production full of pluses: a flawless cast, smart direction and an ideal venue for this intimate, sometimes unnerving, but thoughtful effort.

Woman Finds Her Kidnapped Children Using Facebook

15 years ago, a California woman's husband kidnapped their three-year-old daughter and two-year-old son. Six years ago Facebook launched. A few months ago, the woman tracked down her kids on the social networking site.

From the sounds of it, the woman just happened to search for her daughter's name on Facebook and found her profile. After exchanging messages with the girl, the mother contacted the office of San Bernardino Deputy District Attorney Kurt Rowley. The folks there were able to establish that the children were in Florida and move them into the custody of the Department of Children and Families after arresting the father.

The children have since then been put into the custody of their Facebook-savvy mother.

Send an email to Rosa Golijan, the author of this post, at rgolijan@gizmodo.com.

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Getting a book published and then to hit the Best Sellers list takes a lot of guts, even more determination, tremendous amounts of creative networking and even more persistence. Have you ever wondered how to get your book to be a best seller? I have and now have a book #1 at Barnes and #1 Business Books at Amazon. This is my first published book, Wiley and by working closely with the publishing company, hammering social media and then inspiring my customers, friends and associates it looks like we will hit the NY Times Best Sellers List this upcoming week.

Here is what I have learned:
1) Don't believe anyone when they tell you it can not be done.
2) Remember it is best selling book, not best written.
3) It will require a lot of energy, effort and creativity.

The first thing I did was decide that I could do it despite all the naysayers. The second thing, was write about a book that is personal to me and relevant to many. And then I did everything I could to make sure everyone knew about it.

The book is about the importance of dominating in business and the idea that competition is NOT healthy. This was inspired as a result of the recent economic contraction. This contraction was so severe it terrified me into the reality that individuals and companies are only protected against economic uncertainty by being the dominant player in their market or sector! And don't kid yourself the same thing holds true for book sales, dominant the charts or no one will know you exist!

As we redefined our business over the last 18 months I started writing this most recent book about what I was learning as I recreated and rebuilt my business so that I could get it into a more dominant position with the hopes of being immune from economic conditions. The first title I had was, Screw The Economy, Create Your Own and then I changed it to, Don't Be a Little Bitch but Wiley convinced me those titles might be too aggressive, even offensive to some, so we ended up with, If You Aren't First, You're Last.

I don't pretend to know the exact formula for getting your book to #1 but no one else seems to know the formula either. I can tell you, the most important thing is you have to get people to know about you and your book. Quality of content is critical but getting people to know about the book is senior! This is where a lot of writers seem to err, spending too much time on content and too little time on selling and promotion. In the real world, the quality of the product is meaningless if no one knows the product exist.

The days of going on tour and promoting at book stores are over. The margins for the stores are so small that they can't make sense of the energy it takes to put together book signings. I actually offered to do this at my own expense nationwide and there were no takers! It seems like TV is almost impossible to get without taking your clothes off, cheating on your spouse or overdosing. Today you must utilize social media, blogging and then inspire existing clients, friends and those that could benefit from getting your book sold.

Two years ago I went to my first book fair and walked into McGraw Hill's booth and introduced myself with the hopes of having them publish a book for me. I actually got them interested but because of other commitments to similar books they elected to pass. I went ahead and self-published my first book, Sell to Survive, which sold over 20,000 copies in two years. Only a small amount of these were sold on Amazon and only one book store, One Stoppe Shop in Clearwater carried the book. It's interesting book stores don't seem to like self published books even if they sell - no wonder traditional book stores are having problems. This book was successful because of the efforts of my company selling directly to our clients and at my seminars and then catching on by word of mouth.

I later hooked up with a niche publishing company that focuses on business books. I ended the relationship before we went to press because it just didn't feel right. Some thought I was crazy because I finally had a publishing deal but the same day I canceled our arrangement, Wiley Publications called me. They saw me there writing and liked was I was doing and asked me if I would be interested in them publishing my next book. We made a deal and I got busy selling books.

Here are some things I learned that may help you get your book to be a best seller:
1) Go where bloggers go and write as many articles as you can about the topic of your book.
2) Survey other authors about what they have done successfully in hopes that you can get them to review, comment or involved with your book's release.
3) Consider joint ventures where others promoting your book may benefit them.
4) Build your platform that you are going to sell the book to. Publishing companies want to see that you have a way of selling this book.
5) Build your social media and start talking about the books and then hammer it to levels others would consider unreasonable!

In the three months before the book came out we added almost 10,000 fans to my Facebook page, 3000 or so on LinkedIn and Twitter and starting making entries to inspire this public about the concepts of the book. This was building our platform. The day of the book's release I literally made entries sometimes every ten minutes for 18 hours of where the book was in the rankings as it fell from obscurity to 98,000, to 287 and then to #1 on Amazon Business and #1 overall at Barnes. This spurred more interest and had my clients and friends interested in helping the book move to #1. Understand that a few entries on social networks annoy people and seems self promoting. A consistent and unreasonable pounding of social media will get your audience intrigued and involved in moving your book to #1.

Grant Cardone, Author and International Sales Expert

No, I am not talking about the James Frey who wrote A Million Little Pieces, the controversial piece of creative “nonfiction” that initially made a splash with Oprah but then fell into ignominy. The man I want to praise today is James N. Frey, probably the best writing teacher on the face of the earth.

As far as I know, Jim is still leading writing workshops all over the place, giving of himself, helping others improve their craft. According to his website, “Many participants of his workshops have gone on to publish with major New York houses and receive solid advances (as high as $2 million) and much critical acclaim.” I don't for even a second doubt the veracity of that assertion.

I first met Jim in the spring of 1984, the year he published his first thriller, The Last Patriot. I had seen an ad in a Berkeley, California, newspaper for something called “The Story Laboratory,” a writers' workshop that met every Monday evening in the basement of the Finnish Brotherhood Hall near the corner of University Avenue and Chestnut Street in what we called the flats. We working stiffs lived there, not with the rich and famous up in the Berkeley hills. It didn't take me more than five seconds to decide to check out the Story Lab because I lived just a half block away on Berkeley Way. Somebody was trying to tell me something. I seemed destined to become a member of this little group of struggling scribblers.

When I walked into that basement, Jim was sitting at one of those long, institutional folding tables that reminded me of the ones at the Berkeley Chess Club, where I had spent a humiliating few weeks the year before. Jim was about forty, and my first impression was that he was a red-nosed Irishman who liked his whiskey just a wee bit too much. But that perception evaporated as soon as the rest of the crew showed up and he began to talk shop. Jim spoke more lucidly than any college professor about language, plot, characterization, setting, and something else of vital importance that I will get to in due time.

The way the Story Lab worked was that someone would read a short story or a chapter of a novel, and then the rest — especially Jim — would most likely tear it to shreds with scathing comments. Jim would invariably start out with, “The problem with this story is … ” And he'd always be right. The first work of fiction that I read at the workshop was of the type known derogatorily as a “slice of life” piece. Its title was “The Loft,” and it was about my experiences with a punk rock band in New York City during the late 1970s. It was full to bursting with funky description and quirky characters. I thought it was just great, of course, but no one else around the table in that cellar seemed to agree. They all had something a bit nasty to say, but only Jim was able to articulate what the problem really was.

“This bit of writing could get you into the Creative Writing Masters program at San Francisco State,” Jim told me, “but it isn't any good.”

The first part of that seemed rather encouraging, I thought, but the rest sounded crazy to me, as it appeared to contradict what came before. Jim went on to explain, “You use words very well, and the images are fine, but the story lacks conflict.”

I was flabbergasted. He was right! Why hadn't I seen that myself? I felt like a fool, and I told him so. Jim responded, “Don't feel bad. Everybody starts out as you did. But writing is like everything else. Somebody has to show you how to do it.” After that, I must have heard him say at least a hundred times to other writers around that table, “Your story needs three things: conflict, conflict, and conflict.” He liked to illustrate this point by showing how Charles Dickens had used conflict to the utmost effect in A Christmas Carol. Jim made that story come alive in so many ways that I realized I had taken Scrooge for granted all my life.

That was just the first of many invaluable lessons from the master, and it led to the writing of one of my best short stories, “Decibels.” Thanks, Jim, for helping with the manuscript.

I'll never forget the time I read another short story, “The Little Room.” Right after I finished the last sentence, Jim called for a break and took me by the arm and said, “Let's go over to Taco Bell and get a cup of coffee.” The fast-food restaurant was just across the street.

I thought for sure that I was walking my last mile as a writer, that Jim was going to tell me something like, “I didn't want to say this in front of everyone else, but I was wrong about you, kid. Give it up. You've got no talent.” But no. He said that my story was terrific and that I had found my voice as a writer. Actually, that's what I think he said. I was so blown away by his praise that I really don't remember his exact words, but he thought the story was good, and that's all that mattered. I think I was actually in shock as we walked back to the Story Lab.

When we sat back down inside the Finnish Hall, other members of our group had some comments critical of “The Little Room,” but Jim wouldn't let any of them stand. He said the story was a piece of literary fiction of the highest quality. Perhaps it really is as good as Jim thought it was, but perhaps it isn't. The point is that I wouldn't have been able to write it at all had it not been for Jim's tireless encouragement and excellent advice.

Sadly, I haven't spoken with him in years. I know I disappointed him by not living up to the potential he saw in me. After all, I don't have even a single novel under my belt, just a modest collection of self-published short fiction. But whatever writing skill I do have I owe to Jim. I hope he is doing well.

Jim has written nine novels, among them The Long Way to Die, an Edgar Award Nominee, and Winter of the Wolves, a Literary Guild Selection. Yes, I've read them all, and I've enjoyed every one. Jim is also the author of the How to Write a Damn Good Novel series of instructional books for fledgling writers.

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This Apple iBook Has a Built-In iPad

Remember in Dark Knight when the Batmobile got all busted up and Bruce Wayne jettisoned spectacularly out of its wreckage riding the Batpod? That's kinda what this gutted iBook iPad dock is like.

The antique iBook was hollowed out to accommodate the iPad and a new Apple keyboard, connected to the tablet via the camera connection kit. Just getting your hands on one of those things is hard enough; putting it right to use in a wacky novelty iPad dock—not to be mistaken with the serious-business ClamCase laptop dock—shows some serious dedication.

The builder says the iBook can't be properly closed without scratching the iPad's screen, but whatever, do you think Bruce Wayne was ever worried about the Batpod getting scratched up as it was birthed, fully formed, from the Batmobile? Of course not.

Do keep in mind, though, that the whole reason the Batpod was so awesome was because of its surprise emergence from its Batmobile husk. What I'm getting at here is that you're gonna have to make sure all your friends see you using your old-school iBook a few times before you can yank out its iPad screen in your moment of gadget-stacking-doll glory. But it'll be totally worth it. [Apple Noir via Dvice via Unplggd]

Send an email to Kyle VanHemert, the author of this post, at kvanhemert@gizmodo.com.

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