The renowned MIT Media Lab is a place where every project is an amazing, unbelievable glimpse into humanity’s technological future. Now, thanks to a massive $90 million extension, the architecture can match the wondrous excitement created within.

In case you haven’t had the opportunity to swing by this particular block in Cambridge, Massachusetts, here’s what the old Media Lab looks like. It’s still there. In fact, you can see the extension under construction, and marvel at the stark contrast in design.

Mensa Tetris

The six-level, interconnected extension, the work of the famed, award-winning architectural firm Fumihiko Maki and Associates, is like an immense Tetris puzzle. Every piece represents a functional element that is tightly connected to others, giving anyone inside the feeling of being inside a finished puzzle. Maki, himself the winner of a Pritzker Prize, was on hand over the weekend to officially open the MIT Media Lab. (It’s technically been in operation since December.)

As he described it, each piece of this six-level building connects to the next. Balcony offices overlook open air labs and work spaces. Colorful stairways bisect the central atrium, their red, blue and yellow coloring inspired by Piet Mondrian’s Composition with Yellow, Blue and Red.

Color aside, the trait hitting visitors in the face before they even walk through the door is glass. Cambridge building codes prevented a 100% glass exterior, so Maki came up with a loophole: bamboo. Inspired by translucent Japanese bamboo screens, Maki covered the remaining exterior with a mix of glass and aluminum tubes.

The result is at the same time beautiful and energy efficient, but also functional. We’re constantly reminded that this is one incredibly open, collaborative working environment.

From the street, especially at night, passers-by can literally see lab work happening within. Maki called this “filtered views,” inspired by the work of the pointillist artist George Seurat (lots of dots!). MIT played a part too, having provided Maki with an image of the Visible Man to further drive home the point that this lab space be open.

But enough architecture? What kind of world-changing stuff can we expect this multimillion dollar, 163,000-sq. ft. incubator to pump out in the future?

Well, if the past is any indication, plenty. The place that saw the beginnings of Guitar Hero, e-ink displays, OLPC and Lego Mindstorms is still driving much of the stuff that gets the Gizmodo editors, at least, sweating profusely in their blogging sweatpants.

The Media Lab will help “plumb the depths of how technology can have a greater impact on industry, society and business,” said Media Lab director Frank Moss.

To net denizens and geeks like you and me, that boils down to robotics, prosthetic limbs, AI and the obligatory Minority Report UI reference that any article mentioning 3D interfaces must include.

Fluid Media

As part of the opening, I was lucky enough to get a tour or some, but not all of the departments at the Media Lab. Departments like Biomechatronics, Cognitive Machines, Fluid Interfaces, Molecular Machines, Personal Robots, Smart Cities, Synthetic Neurobiology. It reads like Stephen Hawkings’ shopping list.

In any event, Fluid Media was one of the labs I got to tour first.

If you know Arduino, you’d be at home here, alongside the luminescent wallpaper, smart fabrics, “sewable computing” and inexpensive 3D fabricators that had me waxing nostalgic about Cory Doctorow’s Makers.

Above: No, not coasters or doilies. Sewable computers. If you aren’t wearing your mp3 player now, you will be soon.

Kindergarten Kids, Forever

The sense of play felt throughout the Media Lab’s open spaces owes itself to the students, of course, but it’s certainly assisted by the design. Moss called the atmosphere “serious fun,” in a building where bright minds “design by serendipity.” It’s pretty spot on. One lab leads into the other, encouraging social and professional interaction. Artists huddle with biomechanical engineers. Sometimes the union is short-lived, and sometimes it’s Guitar Hero.

But it’s serious fun: There’s a mission here, one that’s produced limbs for soldiers maimed in war; helped children learn robotics with crazy new Lego software; and created a paint brush, simply called I/O, that captures the essence of whatever you point it at—visual, musical or otherwise.

Even so, the fun, relaxed environment is apparent in this lab that director Moss says will change our futures. He and others, like Lifelong Kindergarten Department grad student Karen Brennan, were genuinely having fun while working with these high concepts and brain-bending experiments. The future, wild as it will be, looks pretty fun. Seriously.

Image credits: The Visible Man is a well-known see-through anatomy model from Craft House Corp. Composition in Yellow, Blue and Red from Wikipedia.

With over six million views in six days, OK Go‘s video for “This Too Shall Pass” is the latest in their unprecedented string of runaway YouTube hits. Lead singer Damian Kulash shared OK Go’s video philosophy—and history—with Gizmodo.

Q: At this point, OK Go may have the best track record of anyone at creating these incredible viral music videos. Why are yours able to stand out?

A: I think it has become increasingly clear to us, as we have chased our most exciting ideas, that there’s been a dissolution of the distribution system for music. That seems really depressing when you see that records aren’t selling, there’s no way to make any money, the system’s falling apart. But if the system itself is falling apart, then so are the rules wrought by it. Videos evolved in this very restrictive environment of MTV. There were only maybe 100 that would play at any time, and labels weren’t willing to invest in them. So now that the system is falling apart, there’s also no reason to stick within the confines of the definitions that were built up during that system. This sounds heady and pretentious, but it means for us the ability to chase our most compelling ideas. We don’t have to think so much into the box of “Will this song work on this radio format?” There’s an infinite world of possible audiences out there for whatever you’re making now.

It’s not like we sat down one day and the brain trust came up with idea for “This Too Shall Pass.” Tim [Nordwind, the bass player] and I have known each other since we were 12, and it’s always been the animating passion of our lives to make fun projects together. Everything from making home videos to recording songs. So the fact that the band got signed and gets to make records is all well and good, but that’s all just a part of our creative relationship. Now that we have an outlet for these other things, all the better. The video for “A Million Ways” [below] was originally just a practice run for a live show. When that catches fire… We’re now in a position where we don’t see restrictions on what we can do at all.

Q: So “A Million Ways” wasn’t even supposed to be a video at first? How’d you stumble onto that dance?

A: Before we were even signed, we were all living in Chicago and there was this incredible public access show called Chic-a-GoGo. It’s like a lo-fi Soul Train. You bring a five year old in and an art student with a gorilla neck and everybody has a dance party. We only had one song at that point. We got a chance to perform there, which was great, but it was so low budget that they couldn’t record our audio. We decided if we’re going to lip sync let’s swing for the fences, and we came up with this totally ludicrous dance routine to the only song we’d at that point recorded [“C-C-C-Cinnamon Lips”].

Tim worked at NPR at the time, and Ira Glass was a fan. He took us on tour as his opening act for “This American Life,” and we kept the dance routine.

Rock shows are such a known quantity. The band does this, the audience does that, and there’s a particular range of emotions people go through. But when you bring something people don’t expect, it really shakes it up and is very different and weird and fun.

As for the dance for “A Million Ways,” we’d come out with our second record and we didn’t want to do the same dance that we’d done for our first. My sister choreographed a new one for us, and we worked on it in our backyard. The video was a practice tape, but there was something so funny and awkward and weird about it that we just sent it around to friends. Then it suddenly had 500,000 hits, which was more records than we’d ever sold.

I truly and honestly did not believe that numbers close to that video’s were achievable again. A lot of it was dependent on YouTube being brand new at the time, and people discovering the service when the video came out.

Q: Do you feel pressure now for every video to go viral? Especially one that took as much time and effort as “This Too Shall Pass”?

If “This Too Shall Pass” could have a broader footprint than “A Million Ways” or “Here It Goes Again” did, that’s great. But that’s definitely not our intention. From our perspective, the upshot of these things being successful is the ability to do a lot more of them in the future. We’ve done a lot of videos in the last few years. I’m definitely happy with the video of “WTF?” and this latest one, but when these videos do well it makes it so much easier to get the other ideas we’ve conceived done. Saying “I’d love to do this thing [in a video] with six cars” is tough, but now it’s more likely that someone will actually give us six cars. It’s less that they’re designed for viralness and more that the operating principle of our creative life is chasing down those ideas.

Q: Where did “This Too Shall Pass” come from? Do you consider it a continuation of your previous efforts or a jump forward?

A: “This Too Shall Pass” is a combination of a bunch of things. Making the treadmill video [“Here It Goes Again”] and the wallpaper one [“Do What You Want”] after that, I just got really obsessed with these contingent systems. Looking at choreography not as dance or movement but as a performance or a system that requires lots of disparate elements to work in perfect synchrony, or sometimes imperfect semi-synchrony. I was thinking a lot about loosely choreographed pieces. What sort of systems can you do that aren’t specifically dance, but you get the effect that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, because everything works just where it should. Rube Goldberg machines are also, I think, universally magical.

Our label, bless their moronic hearts, was given our record nine months ago. It kept getting pushed back. We basically wound up with several months of our lives to just get in trouble. If we’d had to go into promo land and get on tour we wouldn’t have time to do this kind of stuff. Basically I got home when the record was done and wrote down my dream list of videos. This whole project started with a two-paragraph description that I put down online as a job post, essentially. I asked for two creative engineers, because I figured that’s about what it would take. Two engineers, and a couple of months. It ended up being more like 60 engineers, and five months of work.

Q: The set looks like a walking death trap. Did anyone get hurt, or were there any close calls?

The camera man was actually hit by the giant blue barrel that falls from the ceiling. You see the camera takes jolt at the end, right around the time the airplanes take off. That’s the big blue barrel running into him. Otherwise, there were a few bumps and scrapes and bruises. Brett got hit by the bowling ball when it didn’t stay on the ramp once. But none of the super dangerous things every hurt anyone, that I know of.

In terms of putting ourselves in harm’s way, what makes these things exciting is the experience quality of it. The essential element of this would be lost if we made a film that depicted all these components but didn’t actually have them. I can think of other music videos that show Rube Goldberg machines, but they’re all carefully edited things. It loses the idea of being there for the people doing it or the people watching it. I pushed the design team to make the ways the machine treats us stranger, rougher. I was hoping the part where I get rocketed across the room would be a catapult. The professional circus riggers who set that up said we couldn’t do that. I was pretty insistent, but they were very clear that no, making you airborne is going to hurt you. And I was like, don’t people do this all the time? And they said sure, there are stunt men who train for years and/or do this with a lot of CG. I wanted to do it, but apparently this is as dangerous as it gets.

Q: Wait… you had circus riggers on-set? What other professionals came together to help build this thing?

A: It was such an incredible group of people. The doors that fall at the end were designed by a rigger/builder guy who everyone called “The Pirate.” His mains source of income is working on longships, so he’s actually literally a seaman. The person who painted them is the guy who designed the most recent Coke bottle. It was a crazy group of people. The reason we got that spread is we didn’t walk into USC and ask for their brightest engineers. We posted this stuff on the MindShare Labs list. I think they’re called Syyn Labs now. They’re basically a community of nerdy, creative folks in Los Angeles. Anybody who was wont to go to a lecture series as a drinking venue had access to this. Basically anybody who sees the smart/fun/creative side of engineering.

Q: Why such emphasis on “old-school physics” and practical effects instead of CG?

A: On the basic level, this whole project is only exciting because it is real. It’s not a labor of love for anyone to go make a commercial. This is an art project for all these people. If it ain’t the real thing, it’s not worth it. They’re not there to make a video that promotes a band. They’re there to make this awesome project. Any time someone suggested a way to do something easier, I gently pushed them away from it. What makes Rube Goldberg machines so universal is very hard to describe and very easy to lose. If you make it failproof, the thing completely loses its magic.

Q: Would you say that’s how you’ve historically approached your videos?

A: Across our videos in general, it’s not really a requirement but it’s something that attracts me. I once wrote out a list of 20 things that make a good video. One of them is that it’s something that anyone watching could, with enough time, have done themselves. Treadmills and choreography and all the things in “This Too Shall Pass,” none of those are specialized access. A broken piano costs like 70 bucks. It’s not like you have to be an engineer to get that.

Look, we were working with engineers from NASA. Three people who worked on the Mars Rover worked on this machine. And it was wonderful getting people to stop using the specialized part of their skill and get them to use the inspired part. A lot of times I had to explain what “magic” was and what they weren’t allowed to do. You want to use optical gates? Okay, but it has to be followable for the audience. What about lasers? You can’t use something from your lab you worked in, but you can use a laser pointer from a gas station. What if you dissected a Blu-ray player? Fine, but only as long as people can tell it’s from a Blu-ray player. You’d be surprised how much communication it takes.

Q: Any parts in particular stand out where you could’ve been spared a lot of trouble given a CG or manual assist?

A: Almost every point in there could have been cheated. There’s no way to cheat the table I’m sitting on in the beginning. I suppose you could maybe put together that machine and then animate the balls but that would’ve been incredibly difficult. Almost everything else would have been a lot easier with a manual cheat or CG cheat. The timing on everything was critical.

Take for instance the sunrise contraption, the umbrella that comes up as the sun. The timing delay between the sun coming, the flowers coming up, and the birds coming down—we could have just triggered all that stuff electronically or manually. The way it was actually done is changing the fulcrum of the 2x4s that those things were spinning on, so the weights on the end would spin around more slowly. A hammer gets hit on the fulcrum on the back, and by changing where that hammer was, you change the delay until the release of the flowers. That kind of stuff, there’s no reason we couldn’t have cheated all this, but the 60 people who built this thing wouldn’t have had the challenge and the satisfaction of the finished product.

Q: So what’s next? Do you feel pressure to keep topping yourselves?

Mostly I’m just excited because I think this makes it more likely that we’ll be able to do more in the future. Finding people who will help us pay for some of these things should be a lot easier right now. And finding collaborators. As wonderful as the team was, there’s no way that those people—no matter how compelling an internet posting I’d put up—there’s no way they would’ve signed up to do this if we hadn’t already done the treadmills. The success of any particular project is that rather than lifting the bar and creating pressure to come up with new ideas, it opens you up to more and more of them. Now it’s more likely that when we call to find an anti-gravity chamber in NASA, it’ll happen.

Q: Ha. Is that something we can expect to see at some point?

A: Oh, man. Weightlessness would be the final frontier, I think.

We love Sony. We really do. And we want them to get back in the game, because competition makes everyone better. Here’s how they do it.

Open the Library

There was a time when I might have suggested that Sony jettison its media companies, setting music and movies adrift so that the electronics divisions would no longer have to be held hostage by internal squabbles over piracy.

I’ve come around. While Sony Pictures has had its ups and downs over the last decade, the addition of the movie and television libraries gives Sony a strength that none of the other Big Four have—if they can loosen up.

Microsoft has games and Office; Apple sells a lot of music, but owns no content beyond software; Google has YouTube and user-generated content, but creates little professional content of its own. In this space Sony stands alone, with a rich library of music, television, movies, and games.

Imagine if buying a Sony product gave you simple, inexpensive access to that vast archive. Not even for free, necessarily. (Although Sony should continue to be liberal with its media giveaways, like it did when launching the PSP, bundling Spider-Man on UMD.) But all of it at your fingertips with an ease-of-use that put its competitors to shame.

In theory this is the aim of the upcoming Sony Online Service. (The “S.O.S.” name is temporary, if apropos.) Sony has discussed plans to translate the moderately successful PlayStation Network into a cross-device infrastructure, allowing not just media downloads but media uploads, taking not only a shot at iTunes but at cloud services like Flickr and Picasa.

That’s fine and dandy in theory—but why would a user choose Sony, a company that has launched and then quickly abandoned several other media stores and sharing services in the past? When they closed the Connect store, they stranded customers who had bought into their proprietary ATRAC-based DRM. When ImageStation went bust, they migrated people to Shutterfly and cited “many capable online photo services” as a reason for the closure. Why start investing dollars and time and work and memories in a company that just five years ago allowed rootkits to be installed to protect the sanctity of its media?

There’s a trust issue at play, perhaps bigger than Sony realizes, as its halting and horrible missteps have made many potential customers leery of its commitment.

Lucky for Sony, there’s a new age dawning in media, one based heavily in the cloud, with subscriptions taking the place of media downloads—especially in video, where customers have yet to invest heavily in pay-per-download models simply due to prohibitive costs and the infinite format war.

Sony should send the Online Service into the world with a bang: open access to Sony’s media library free for a month. Or three. Take the write-down as a marketing expense, allow millions of users free access to the media that Sony controls, and use the media—not the hardware—as a loss leader to get people hooked on Sony again.

(And if they did it without DRM that’d be even better, but I’m not asking for miracles here.)

A comprehensive and liberal attitude towards online media would go a long way towards shoring up Sony’s more traditional media sales strategy, as well. Blu-ray, after a long and costly battle, has finally won—just as download and streaming content is taking hold in the video space. Buying a Blu-ray disc currently guarantees me access to the video on many non-Sony devices—why not give me access to that same movie on all of my Sony products? I bought Ghostbusters on Blu-ray—now let me watch it whenever I like on whatever Sony device I choose just by grabbing it from the cloud. That would certainly make me more eager to spend money on physical copies.

Become the Best Android Maker In the World

Sony’s software showing is weak. Its mobile devices, for a brief moment a bellwether in the “small and useful” space, are now bogged down in a swamp of too-little, too-late design. (More on that in a bit.) Its arcane PlayStation architecture is, according to many game developers, confusing. That was fine when PlayStation was the biggest game in town, but with the Xbox and Wii eclipsing PS3 sales and the DS and iPhone taking a huge chunk of the potential PSP market, Sony’s inability to provide powerful, easy-to-use software for developers has been a huge factor in its poor showing this console generation. (Things are are looking up, but on the beam the PlayStation 3 has been a disaster for Sony exactly when it didn’t need one.)

There is hope, and its name is Android. At first it might seem counterintuitive to suggest that Sony lean heavily on a product under the aegis of a company that by all rights should be a chief competitor. But for all its not-quite-actually-open-source issues, Android exists primarily so that Google can be insulated from Apple and Microsoft—the two companies that most threaten Sony, as well. In this case, the enemy of Sony’s enemy could be their friend—especially when Google isn’t interested in providing a full range of consumer products that use Android.

It wouldn’t be the first time that Sony used a competitor’s software: The entirety of the Vaio PC line runs Microsoft Windows, and its Sony Ericsson phones run Nokia’s Symbian OS or—oh look!—Android.

And in this case, Google’s weakness is Sony’s strength: great hardware. And adopting Android across all its devices would do nothing to impede Sony’s own platform goals. In fact, that a Sony-branded Android device could have access to the broad range of Android applications as well as Sony’s Online Service and media offerings would do much to set Sony apart from the glut of also-rans that make up much of the current non-phone Android marketplace.

At its heart, Android is “just” Linux. Sony’s no stranger to Linux—the PlayStation 2 and 3 both have dabbled with Linux support. But Android is Linux-as-platform, a trusted and understood consumer branding. (Or, you know, that’s the goal.) It is, as far as operating systems go, as good or better than anything Sony has ever cooked up themselves. Rather than spending years on disparate software platforms for each device, Sony’s software engineers could spend their time building easy-to-use and beautiful user experiences on top of a unified platform. (Remind me again why the Sony Dash doesn’t use Android?)

Ditch Sony Ericsson

Sony Ericsson’s products are late, underpowered, designed by madmen and utterly irrelevant. Worse, the company is helmed by a man too proud to make a flagship phone with Google. Fire him. Rescue the engineers. Let the rest of the company burn.

This business has changed. There are no phones anymore. There are simply things that also phone. That there is not a PSP Phone in my hands right now is a travesty, one surely due entirely to the fact that Sony is entangled in a bizarre partnership with a European company trying to make phones that appeal to a feature phone market that started to go away a decade ago.

Sony Ericsson is a stone around Sony’s neck and should be cut free as soon as possible. Telephony and mobile data are an intrinsic part of the electronic landscape. Even if a modern phone is really only a radio and a bit of software, it’s too important to be anywhere but in-house—and increasingly, in every product.

Another fantastic man-on-the-street piece from Woody Jang about what regular consumers think of Sony’s future.

PlayStation Everything

If you ask the average person on the street what their favorite Sony product is, more often than not you’ll hear “PlayStation”. There’s a couple of reasons for that—not the least of which is that it’s the last Sony product to completely stand apart from its competitors.

It’s a valuable and—when executed correctly—profitable brand. As for the hardware itself, the PlayStation 3 is powerful.

So why is it so half-assed? Why is it that I can spend hundreds of dollars on a PlayStation 3 and still not use it as a DVR? Or as a powerful, slick media center to access my media files? (You can do it, yes, but it’s no Boxee or Plex.) Why does Sony sell any other Blu-ray players at all?

The PlayStation of the last few years is battered, but not broken. Half-hearted and poorly conceived projects like PlayStation Home have shown how disconnected Sony is from its users, but the device, brand, and platform still have a lot to give.

I have four boxes connected to my television: All three major consoles, plus a Mac Mini. The reason I have the Mac Mini? It’s because none of the consoles do a proper job as a media center, giving me universal access to every type of media I consume, from streaming services like Netflix and Hulu, to movies and television I’ve ripped and downloaded (legally or otherwise), to DVDs and Blu-ray. (The Mini doesn’t do Blu-ray, but since I only own, like, six Blu-ray discs that hasn’t been a dealbreaker.)

Sony is trying. Netflix has come to the PS3, if somewhat awkwardly. But accessing files on the network still takes a UPnP server and other bits of annoying acronymic magic that makes my $350 console from a multi-billion dollar company feel gimpy and half-baked.

In the portable space, it’s ever worse: I don’t know a single person who bought a PSPgo. And why would they? It was clear from the outset that the PSPgo was a toe in the water of the digital-distribution stream, not the sort of cannonball into online game downloads that is already being explored to profitable depths by Apple.

But a PSP phone? A nicely designed portable device that has access to the library of amazing PSP titles, plus all the movies, music, and (hopefully Android) apps that Sony could provide? They’d sell a million on Day One, and have developers banging down their doors to let them create the beautiful 3D titles that the PSP is known for.

Thank goodness there are rumors that a PlayStation phone is happening—but Sony has made similar sashays before, only to jilt us later.

Keep It In the Lab

We’ve shown the absolutely monstrous number of products Sony has for sale (to US consumers) at any given time. To some extent it’s understandable, if not forgivable. It’s one of the strengths of megacorps to be able to shotgun lots of products onto the market to see what sticks, and diversification has been part of the Sony strategy for decades.

But it’s gotten out of hand—and worse, it’s turned Sony into a company that has stopped saying “Look what we’ve invented,” to instead murmur, “We can do that, too.”

I’ve written about how Apple’s restraint has given them a product lineup that’s easy to understand—and easy to invest in as a customer. Buy an Apple product and you can be sure that it’ll be supported for years to come. (And that it’ll be superseded by an improved version in a year, of course.)

But Sony is spitting out products that even they don’t believe in. The Mylo internet communicator? The Vaio P netbook? The PSPgo? The Sony Dash? The UX Series UMPC micro whatever-the-hell? A three-thousand dollar 2-megapixel Qualia camera? Those aren’t all dead products—yet. But Sony, by spewing out products that are clearly part of no greater strategy than “Let’s see what sticks” has eroded the value of their brand and the trust that customers should be able to put in it.

Bring Back the Robots

Except for the robots! While I’ll rail all day about how Sony has overwhelmed us with pointless or half-baked products, I have to admit: I miss the robots. I miss the strange little contraptions, the oh-so-Japanese experiments that clearly have no place in the greater company strategy, but exist only to show off the prowess of Sony’s engineers.

Is the Sony Rolly absolutely silly and overpriced? Of course it is. But if Sony were selling just a couple of dozen products that really nailed it, the Rolly would stop serving as an all-too-fitting icon of Sony’s directionless and instead take its place as a whirring, cooing, flashing reminder that Sony plays in the future.

Really, though: robot dogs! How are we supposed to believe in Sony if they don’t believe in Aibo!

Make the Best

Once upon time, you bought Sony because “Sony” actually meant “the best.” It’s that reputation of quality that Sony’s largely coasted on (and ridden roughshod over) for the last decade. Sony simply needs to make the best gadgets again.

Take its TVs for example, a core product where Sony is a brand that immediately comes to mind: The Bravia XBR8 is quite possibly the best LCD television ever created. Sony stopped making it last year. The products that followed it, the XBR9 and XBR10, are actually inferior products, despite costing just as much. We actually expected the XBR8 to spawn many better and less expensive TVs, not the opposite. That’s the death of the Sony brand. If Sony means nothing else, it should mean the best gadgetry you can buy. The XBR11 needs to be the greatest LCD TV ever made.

Make Us Believe

Sony is lost. Too entranced by their own mythos to make the hard decisions. Too ready to listen to the Madison Avenue hucksters who convince them that “make.believe” means anything at all.

But we believe in Sony. Even their worst products, however feebly designed, retain the air of quality. (We’re ignoring a few exploding batteries here and there as the travails of any massive company.)

We believe in a Sony that can practice restraint, that can encourage its engineers to dream and innovate, but also can understand that not every crazy accomplishment needs to be validated by becoming a product for sale.

More than anything, we believe that Sony can stop being so prideful, desperate to be acknowledged as the world’s leading electronics company. We believe that the company of Ibuku and Morita can stop telling us they’re the best, and do what they were formed to do:

Prove it.

The complete “We Miss Sony” series
• Video: Describe Sony In A Word
• How Sony Lost Its Way
• Sony’s Engineer Brothers
• Infographic: Sony’s Overwhelming Gadget Line-Up
• The Sony Timeline: Birth, Rise, and Decadence
• Let’s Make.Believe Sony’s Ads Make Sense
• The Return of Sony

In his first time speaking at University of Washington—the giant Microsoft-endowed school in the company’s backyard—Steve Ballmer explained “the cloud.”

First, there was a goofy video showing how stoned most UW students are, conducted by a gal with shockingly platinum hair and bronze skin. Then Ballmer says it’s something he’s betting his company on, and that every company is betting their companies on, and that it’s a $3.3 trillion industry. That’s pretty serious. Here are his five key principles:

1. “The Cloud Creates Opportunities and Responsibilities” (In fairness, Ballmer admits it sounds like “some blah blah blah business term.”) What he means is that creators don’t have to come from big-ass tech companies to market cool software now. He says “Apple’s done a very nice job” with the App Store, giving opportunities to developers, and that Microsoft is keen on providing those types of opportunities. How do developers who have worked on open-source or freeware apps finally get some money for their creations? (Does this mean Windows Phone 7 will follow a similar developer strategy? Who knows…)

He also says that the cloud is supposed to give more control to users, not just developers. Control over privacy and anonymity, that is. Ballmer doesn’t mention too many examples, but cites Facebook—obliquely—as an example of the challenges of cloud-related privacy.

2. “The Cloud Learns and Helps You Learn, Decide and Take Action” Machine learning is key to cloud strategy. Ballmer says that when you look out at 83 million websites and try to find something simple but hard to search for, like “What do we as a society spend on healthcare?” you can easily get nothing. “It’s only eight numbers,” Ballmer says, but they’re hard to find in one simple little chart. The cloud needs the intelligence to know what people are looking for, and know how to go and find that information on its own, or collaboratively with users.

Here, to drive the point, Ballmer invited a guy from the Bing team to demo Bing Maps’ explore feature. It’s live, so you can check it out for yourself. Drill down into the University of Washington, if you want a good representation of what they’re doing.

3. “Cloud Enhances Social and Professional Interactions” This Ballmer admits is kind of an obvious notion, as we’re already immersed in it, but he says that the innovations here will improve to a point where “virtual interaction through the cloud is as good as being here today.” He doesn’t mean “as good” in the sense of “as useful.” He means that one day, an entire auditorium of activity would be able to be captured on 3D video and streamed live anywhere, like Harry Potter diving into a Pensieve. (That’d be my Potter fanboy analogy, not Ballmer’s.) He also means, of course, that realtime data collaboration tools will get better and better. He didn’t mention that they’d have anything to compete directly with Google Wave, but if they do, hopefully they’ll focus on ease of use.

As a near-term social example, he brought a demo of Xbox Live TV, something already launched in England with the Sky Player. Imagine Mystery Science Theater 3000 done with Xbox avatars, under a screen playing a live show. In the Sky example, of course, sports are key. I am thinking there are very few live TV events anymore, but maybe a Lost episode or some (non-Olympic) sporting event would be a good example.

4. The Cloud Wants Smarter Devices This pillar of the Ballmer argument is the one that probably makes the most sense to Giz readers and people who have kept up with Windows Phone 7 (and Pink) news. As a student sitting near me just pointed out, the “smarter devices” angle is antithetical to what Google and others seem to preach, but Microsoft obviously cares about processing at the consumer end, and they believe that as long as processing is cheaper than bandwidth it makes sense.

Not surprisingly, his demo is Windows Phone 7, so I’ll spare you any crappy photo and just link you to our comprehensive coverage.

5. “The Cloud Drives Servers Advances That Drive the Cloud” We tend to ignore the hardware demands of the cloud, but obviously, Microsoft’s server business is a key part of Ballmer’s reason for promoting the cloud. He speaks of service issues—systems able to deploy software instantaneously worldwide, without a hassle. “If a machine breaks, that shouldn’t be your problem. There shouldn’t be people babysitting all these machines.” A call for QA, perhaps, and aimed as much internally as it is externally.

An example of the fruits of this is a UW project called Azure Ocean, which is constantly aggregating the world’s oceanographic data, expanding constantly with sensor data every day, noting that it must have been a “very exciting period in the last few weeks” with the earthquake in Chile. No doubt no one will dispute the need for research tools of this scope now.

Ballmer also says that part of this server business is people having their own clouds. Governments and companies want to buy their own systems. Sometimes this is obvious, like for military or strategic purposes, but sometimes it’s just a matter of preference, and Ballmer wants people to be able to buy “refrigerator”-sized water-cooled systems with net connections, if that’s their preference.

Ballmer concludes with the sentiment that “the Cloud fuels Microsoft and Microsoft fuels the cloud.” Take that as you wish.

My own quick take on this is that the cloud is as nebulous as you think, but at least these are areas worth thinking about more. The cloud isn’t anything new, but it’s taking shape, and clearly in the hands of only a few companies. Google is the biggest, and arguably Microsoft is #2. In other words, we need to listen to Ballmer, cuz he’ll be driving it, at least for now.

To understand Sony, understand its founders, Masaru Ibuka and Akio Morita. Even though both are now gone, their executive dynasty and its haphazard, emotional governance established the model for the Sony of today—even as it holds Sony back.

Rice Cookers and Electric Blankets

Sony’s early years are thick with stories of near disaster tempered by last-ditch recovery. After the Second World War, Japan was rebuilding its infrastructure. Electricity, no longer needed for military factories, was in surplus, and Ibuka and Morita wasted no time in putting together an electric rice cooker and an electric blanket for sale to the Japanese market.

They were horrible.

Despite a clever design, the rice cooker—a wooden bucket with electrodes at the bottom which would turn off when water steamed away, breaking the circuit—mostly under- or overcooked the rice. The electric blanket scorched blankets and futons, and there was fear it would eventually set a house on fire.

Ibuka was a tinkerer of the first order, so skilled at inventing that he won the Gold Prize at the 1933 Paris World’s Fair for his patented “dancing neon”. Morita was the scion of a prosperous family who chose a career of science instead of running the Morita sake business, breaking a chain of first-born leadership that stretched back fourteen generations.

They met working for the military, but wasted no time in forming Tokyo Tsushin Kogyo—Tokyo Telecommunications Engineering Company, Ltd., which would eventually become Sony—as soon as the war was over.

Ibuka, in his founding prospectus, made it clear that above all else, Sony would exist as a welcoming workplace for the eternally misunderstood engineer: “The first and primary motive for setting up this company was to create a stable work environment where engineers who had a deep and profound appreciation for technology could realize their societal mission and work to their heart’s content.”

Engineers have always been stars at Sony—more so, perhaps, than their creations.

Ibuka Imagined, Morita Manifested

For decades—perhaps even up until this day, depending on who you ask—the key decisions of the company were typically driven by Ibuka, Morita, or one of the relatively small cabal of executives that led the company. This is typical in a Japanese company, where even the board of directors is often comprised mostly of cronies and yes-men, unlike in Western corporations where (in theory) a board of outsiders represent the needs of the public shareholders.

From its very start, Sony has been a wonderworks of invention, with engineers given ample leeway to work on their own projects. Their early inventions were often built on the ideas of other companies, improvements rather than wholly new ideas.

German companies had invented tape recorders in the 1930s, but both the machines and the magnetic tape used for recording was expensive. Sony developed a paper tape that was affordable but with a shabbier sound quality, literally brushing on the shellac by hand onto paper tape with a brush made from badger hair.

When Bell Laboratories invented the transistor, Sony sent an employee to the United States for three months to learn how to manufacturer them. When test runs yielded only five functional transistors out of every one hundred made, Ibuka ordered the company to move ahead with production. He held in his mind a vision of a pocket-sized transistor radio, and although it took a couple of years for everything to click, the TR-55 Transistor Radio was a very profitable product for young Sony.

Consider Ibuka’s biggest success: the development of the Trinitron picture tube, a couple hundred million of which Sony sold over the years. When the project began, Sony had licensed another tube technology, Chromatron, which had such poor production yields that it cost Sony nearly twice as much to produce than the price for which they were actually sold. Chromatron nearly bankrupted the company.

Ibuka himself led the engineering team that created the aperture grill that made Trinitron tubes colorful and clear. It took nearly two years for the first Trinitron tubes to roll off the assembly line. Years later, Ibuka considered it the high point of his career at Sony.

But if Ibuka had failed—and there were many failures before his team made the breakthrough—Sony probably wouldn’t be around today. It was a legendary success—a legend that now allows Sony to rush headlong into engineering-led disasters.

“I’ve always dreamed of owning a Hollywood studio.”

Morita was less an impassioned engineer and more a dabbler, although make no mistake: Morita loved his gadgetry. It’s just that he also loved business, good food, the arts. Like his successor, Norio Ohga, Morita was concerned as much with the media that would play on Sony products as he was with the gadgets themselves.

It was this thinking that lead Sony into the content space, having first made considerable profits by selling recording media like audio or video tape alongside its tape recorders, as well as the extremely profitable acquisition of Columbia Records.

Eventually, having made a fortune selling both CD players and manufacturing a large percentage of compact discs, Sony made a play for a Hollywood Studio. Although Sony had looked at most of the major studios, it happened that Columbia Pictures had the right combination of a potentially profitable film archive, a vast television library, and promising upcoming film projects.

The problem? Sony had no idea how to negotiate the deal properly, led on by typical Los Angeles entertainment tricksters, and soon had decided the only practical choice was to abandon its hopes of acquiring Columbia.

Until Morita said one evening over tea, “It’s really too bad. I’ve always dreamed of owning a Hollywood studio.”

And that was that.

Sony ended up paying an outrageous premium to acquire Columbia, only to write down billions of debt just a few years later. The same sally-forth qualities that had served Sony’s founders so well at the beginning of their careers were still in play thirty years later, only now they were in control of billions of dollars and tens of thousands of employees.

Echoes Not of Dreams, But of Dreaming

There are countless examples of Ibuka and Morita’s successors following in their footsteps, taking up the mantle of the brash engineer, forging ahead despite warnings of overambition or even unprofitable results, all in pursuit of a now-mythical Better Way. It’s hard to blame them. Sony’s founders brought fantastic success through their ideas and their tenacity, creating a corporate juggernaut big enough and diversified to withstand failures that would be catastrophic to smaller organizations.

Gadgets are not simply single-purpose electronic tools these days. They are platforms for software, for interaction, for media consumption.

I can’t help but wonder if Ibuka and Morita would look at the Sony of today and see any similarity to the company they founded, a place where engineers can work in peace to create the future, or if they would realize that sometimes the dreams of engineers are best when united towards a unifying vision—a vision that must adapt to the landscape of its time.

For this piece and others, I am indebted to the authoritative work of John Nathan and his book, “Sony: The Private Life”, as well as Sony’s own history page which, perhaps tellingly, only goes up to 1995.

The complete “We Miss Sony” series
• Video: Describe Sony In A Word
• How Sony Lost Its Way
• Sony’s Engineer Brothers
• Infographic: Sony’s Overwhelming Gadget Line-Up
• The Sony Timeline: Birth, Rise, and Decadence
• Let’s Make.Believe Sony’s Ads Make Sense
• The Return of Sony