I greatly appreciate the way that this series of tubes that we call the Internet has completely changed our access to art, especially music. There was a time when getting exposed to something new often meant plowing through the architecture dances of music reviews in various publications and trying to imagine what the album sounded like from the collection of sonic descriptors. Unless the material was embraced by radio or got exposure on some television showcase, the only way to actually hear it involved plunking down hard-earned dollars, something that was in short supply in my youth. Now, even those who are strict believers in the sanctity of copyright laws can usually get at least samples of just about anything with a few keystrokes, whether it be a brand new indie star record or long-lost classic rock grinders that haven’t been freshly pressed onto any format in forty years.

There’s also the joy of getting access to the odd little bits that likely couldn’t be available to be shuffled up from a collection through any other means. I’ve long been a fan of such material, maybe because I still have strong memories of what it was like in the seventies when anything that was broadcast was still fleeting. If something aired on network television (largely the only option at the time), you either saw it or you didn’t. There were no DVRs to do all the work of obtaining and storing it for you for later viewing, and even videotape was an indulgence only for the very well off. If you wanted to preserve something about the only option was sitting in front of the television set with a blocky tape recorder and a microphone trained at the speaker, a bit of silliness I engaged in more than once. (Though I don’t remember doing the work to get it in the first place, I had an episode of Good Times on cassette that I would listen to when I was bored.)

The age of YouTube and World Wide sharing means that much of that material that was recorded and inexplicably saved is now out there for the taking, a great ethereal manifestation of the all-American concept of “fair use.” So interspersed in my iTunes are happy little wonders, many of which I no longer remember where I first found them out there in the digital wilds. For example, I have a few musical performances from The Muppet Show, including Debbie Harry joining Kermit the Frog for a duet of “The Rainbow Connection.” It’s not just because I have a clear affection for the Muppets that this entry in my collection holds a special appeal. It’s because The Muppet Show is exactly the sort of show that the wee tyke version of myself was occasionally devoted to capturing on cassette, sitting in front of the television clumsily clad in Garanimals, wanting to make sure I could listen to this alternate version of a favorite song from The Muppet Movie whenever I wanted. I’ve always been obsessive about music and pop culture. I’m just glad technology has caught up to my obsession and made it so much easier to be this way.

Debbie Harry and Kermit the Frog, “The Rainbow Connection”

(Disclaimer: I did no research this week into the availability of this song. None. The version that I post here was clearly ripped of a television recording by some kind, intrepid soul that I’m operating under the assumption that it’s never been available as a purchasable audio recording. Maybe that’s wrong. Maybe it exists on the some Debbie Harry box set, or Kermit the Frog duets compilation where he adorns the cover in an artfully askew fedora. So I may be flagrantly disobeying my own rules about only posting material that can’t be purchased from your friendly neighborhood record store in a way that provides monetary compensation to the performer or performers. One things for certain, and absolutely doesn’t change this week: if anyone with due authority to ask for its removal from the Interweb contacts me and makes such a request, I will promptly and cheerfully acquiesce.)