It's sad to know that I'm probably part of the last generation that had contact with technology working physically, and all the fascination that it brought.
Looking at vinyl records and trying to imagine how the needle would fit through the grooves to produce sound.
Wondering why I couldn't open the camera if the film was being used. Then laying back on the grass with the negatives to look at the blue tint on my mother's skin in the tiny frames, against the bright sky outside.
Pulling out VHS tape from its broken casing to try to see the frames. Why wasn't it like the film that went in the camera?
Sitting with my mother's typewriter, trying to write school assignments on it because I was fascinated with how the hammers moved.
Watching my dad opening the TV up to fix some wires. Later I would sit very close to the screen and wonder how the bars in three colours made up all of those pictures.
We broke things. We opened them, we fixed them. Learned from my dad how to fix them, and how to solder.
Now everything is miniaturised.
Efficient.
Practical.
In water-tight casings, that you can't open, or won't open not to void the warranty. But if it breaks anyway, you just buy a new one.
The video is there, the music is there, you don't know how it got to you, how it works, you just accept its presence.
And you consume.
Something I discovered recently about this song after going to Okinawa, it has a bunch of elements from folk Okinawan music, more specifically the music used for Eisa: