Hasta La Gadget!

Google. Chrome. OS. Just reading that makes my pants tingle. But, uh, what is it exactly?

Here’s what Google says: “Google Chrome OS is an open source, lightweight operating system that will initially be targeted at netbooks” and “most of the user experience takes place on the web.” That is, it’s “Google Chrome running within a new windowing system on top of a Linux kernel” with the web as the platform. It runs on x86 processors (like your standard Core 2 Duo) and ARM processors (like inside every mobile smartphone). Underneath lies security architecture that’s completely redesigned to be virus-resistant and easy to update. Okay, that tells us, um, not much.

After all, Google’s Android is a mobile OS that runs on top of a Linux kernel. But Chrome OS is different! Android is designed to work on phones and set-top boxes and other random gadgets. Chrome OS is “designed to power computers ranging from small netbooks to full-size desktop systems” for “people who spend most of their time on the web.” Hey wait, they both run on netbooks? Hmm!

Since the official blog post is all Google has said about Chrome OS and it doesn’t say much, let’s do something I learned in college, turning tiny paragraphs into pages of “deep reading.”

It seems like there are two possibilities for what Chrome OS is, on a general level. The more mundane—and frankly uninspired—possibility is that it’s essentially a Linux distro with a custom user interface running the Chrome browser. As someone quipped on Twitter (sorry I don’t remember who), if you uninstall everything but Firefox 3.5 on Ubuntu, would that be the Firefox OS? What’s the difference between Chrome OS and a version of Chrome with Google Gears on Intel’s pretty Moblin OS?

The other possibility is more interesting. Look at this closely: “Most of the user experience takes place on the web.” The software architecture is simply “Google Chrome running within a new windowing system on top of a Linux kernel.” That sounds familiar. A lot like Mike Arrington’s CrunchPad, actually, which boots directly into the WebKit browser running on top of Linux.

Meaning? The entire experience of the CrunchPad takes place on the internet, and the web is its “platform” as well, essentially. Chrome is WebKit-based as well. (I’m surprised Arrington didn’t mention this in his post, actually.) If I had to guess, I’d say Chrome OS is somewhere in between an entirely browser-based OS and a generic Linux distro, though leaning toward the former.

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.But running a full computer like Chrome OS, based entirely on web apps, is crazy, right—I mean, what if you’re not online? There are two things that show it actually might not be completely retarded.

You can already use Gmail offline. I think that will be really indicative of other app experiences in a totally web-oriented Chrome OS with Google Gears. The same goes for Google Docs in offline mode, an option some people have been using for over a year. It’s no coincidence that Google pulled “Beta” off of its web apps the day it announced Chrome OS.

Another reason it might work is Palm’s WebOS on the Pre, where most of the apps, like Pandora, are written simply using web languages. (It, too, is running WebKit on top of Linux kernel.) As Harry McCracken notes, it seems like a prime opportunity for Google’s long rumored GDrive online storage to finally rear its head, picking up on the line “people want their data to be accessible to them wherever they are and not have to worry about losing their computer or forgetting to back up files.” That could make Chrome OS wildly more compelling. And don’t get me started on all the app-like possibilities from HTML5 by the time Chrome OS launches in the second half of 2010.

Actually, the more minimal it is, the more I think Chrome OS could be better, in some ways, than Android. Google half-assed a lot of Android at launch (UI inconsistencies, missing video player, etc.). If Chrome OS really is just a glorified browser, Google can afford to be that lethargic—all they have to do is maintain the browser, and everyone else will take care of the web apps. Which developers will code, because they’ll run on any OS with a browser—Windows, OS X, whatever—and because the web as a platform is the way things are going. Even Microsoft knows this, deep down, as their Gazelle browser project shows.

How will you sync an iPod, manage printers and network drives, or yank photos and videos from your camera? We don’t know. Some things may be impossible. Will there be an uproar, like there was with iPhone 1.0, about the limitations of web apps? Surely someone will bitch.

But I can almost see a day where phones run Chrome OS, too, when wireless internet is truly ubiquitous. It seems obvious, now, that this is Google’s long-haul play—not Android, even. Either way, Microsoft doesn’t have to be scared today. But they might be in about a year.

Still something you wanna know? Send questions about web tablets, web apps, the wicked webs Google weaves and anything else to tips@gizmodo.com, with “Giz Explains” in the subject line. Top image by Cobra Commander, from our totally insaney Google Chrome comic Photoshop contest.

Just last summer, Toshiba’s Portege R500 was the first laptop with a 128GB SSD. A year later, Toshiba’s Portege R600 is the world’s first 512GB SSD lappie. So for this one moment, Toshiba is on the top of the world.

Design
Note: The R600 has been out for several months, we just tested their updated system with the mega SSD. So if you’ve read about the build before, you can skip down to our section on performance.

For $3,500 (as tested with 1.4GHz Intel Core 2 Duo U9400, 3GB RAM, 512GB SSD, Intel 4500MHD graphics, DVD burner, Bluetooth and Wi-Fi n), the Portege may be a bit of a disappointment right out of the box. Yes, it’s ridiculously light, starting at 2.46lbs, but that weight comes at a cost of feel. It’s plastic, and no amount of metal paint can get around that. But luckily the plastic is fairly smudge-proof and part of a “shock absorbing design” complete with “spill resistant” keyboard. In other words, the system may be more durable than a Macbook, especially with so few moving parts.

The 12.1-inch screen is technically WXGA (widescreen) resolution, though something about the system’s shape makes it look more vertical, like a 4:3 screen of yore. This is a minor point, of course, and its non-glossy screen gets just bright enough to use indoors by a window. In full-out sunlight, you can one-button switch the system into “transreflective” mode, essentially using the sun to brighten the screen. High brightness (in standard mode) is still the brightest setting, even under direct sunlight, but the transreflective setting probably uses a lot less power.
Extras, from the effective fingerprint scanner to the eSATA and SD ports, do a lot to sweeten the deal on the small, utilitarian system. And in this era, it’s straight up shocking to see an optical bay pop out of a system that’s just .77 inches thick.

Performance
The R600 runs Vista very fluidly, especially given its stature. Firefox, Windows Media Player, HD content streamed from the web—none of it will leave you waiting. But given the system’s Intel 4500MHD GPU, don’t get any fantasies of gaming.

Many will expect the computer to boot nearly instantly given the SSD—I’ve heard this expectation a number of times—but the still takes about a minute to fully load. The bottleneck here is simply not the hard drive.
How does the R600 compare to other light systems like the Macbook Air or Lenovo X301? Just as you’d expect from the specs on paper, it’s slower than the Macbook Air. But even with the same processor, it outperforms the X301.

Then you have to check out the speeds on the SSD.
Fast! This isn’t some bargain basement drive that Toshiba shoved in a laptop for bragging rights. I mean, a 512GB SSD is clearly for bragging rights, but it’s Toshiba’s biggest and fastest drive made in-house—way nicer than we see competition from Lenovo and Apple (which we believe to both use earlier gen, Samsung drives).

But what does this speed chart mean in real life? Copying a 700MB file on my Macbook Pro (with a 320GB, 7200 RPM hard drive) took 35 seconds. On the R600, that same copy may have legitimately cracked the 8 second barrier. I’d like to say that I never took the speed for granted, but I totally started taking the speed for granted. Superman doesn’t bow down and thank the sun every time he avoids traffic by flying over Metropolis, so why should I be any different?
Toshiba’s 6-cell battery is rated internally at 7 hours, 32 minutes. I found that it offers 3 hours and 35 minutes of MPEG4 playback (screen maxed bright, Wi-Fi on, Bluetooth off, performance settings normal). Our test is rigorous, and it’s pretty common for laptops to only get about 50% of their rated battery life in our real world use simulation. Of course, the computer could probably eek out another 30 minutes to an hour with less taxing processes and a dimmer screen.

I Might Buy One…In 2011
The key to remember, of course, is that the 128GB R500 ran $3,000 just a year ago. Now, their 512GB R600 is $3,500. Even with the price bump on their top tier system, Toshiba has the right idea here: Push the envelope and force the market to adapt. Keep topping the sundae with cherries and someone will be hungry enough to buy it (meanwhile those of us who aren’t will have plenty of dropped cherries to munch on).
Still, I don’t know that I’d recommend this fully stuffed R600 with full gusto. It’s simply not as beautiful as premium, small-form laptops like the Dell Adamo or Apple’s Macbook Air (side by side above), and the prices of flash storage will certainly come down (and quickly at that). But I’m glad Toshiba made the thing because, frankly, somebody needed to load a laptop with a legitimately beastly SSD first.


The huge SSD Is fast


Under 3lbs, less than an inch thick


Substantial ports and extras


For $3,500, it feels a bit like a Pontiac

[Additional benchmarks from AppleInsider and ThinkPad Forums]

The N97 is Nokia’s attempt to stand tall in an unfamiliar, hostile world populated by the iPhone, Pre and Android the only way it knows how: by throwing the kitchen sink at them. If this is it, they’re doomed.

Okay, maybe you don’t think that’s true, the doomed part: Nokia is the number one cellphone maker in the world—they sold 468 million phones last year and still own 41.2 percent of the smartphone market. But in the context of Symbian’s sliding marketshare—Symbian was on 56.9 percent of smartphones at the beginning of 2008, now it’s on 49.3 percent, while the iPhone has doubled its marketshare to 10.8 percent and RIM’s grown to 19.9 percent—the N97 indeed spells a certain kind of doom for Nokia, if it’s the best the number one cellphone marker in the world can really do.

Hardware
Let’s start with the most decent part, the hardware. The form factor is great, actually, for a QWERTY slider, because it still feels like a phone. It’s a little narrower than the iPhone 3GS and the exact same thickness as the G1—not svelte, and it still fits in skinny jeans just fine. The snappy “thwack” it makes when you slide the screen upward to the reveal the keyboard is the single most satisfying thing about this phone. It’s loud. But it’s reassuring. It feels powerful and sturdy and smooth, like it’ll last a hundred years.

The tilt angle the screen thrusts out at isn’t adjustable, which is unfortunate, since it’s slightly off from where I’d prefer. For instance, you have to hold the keyboard flat when you’re typing to look at the screen dead-on—if you tend to tilt your phone toward you as you type (like I do), the screen is going to face your crotch and you won’t be able to see anything.

The keyboard waiting underneath the screen is a mixed bag. The slightly rubbery texture of the keys is perfect, and while I found I had no problems with the layout, some people might loathe the fact the space key is shoved all the way to the right. The real problem is that the keys have an ultrashort travel distance, so there’s virtually no tactile feedback when you’re typing—less than the G1, which wasn’t exactly rocking faces with its keyboard, either. Put another way, it doesn’t pass the driving test—I couldn’t bang out a text message while driving to save my life. (Good thing I didn’t wreck.) Not only does the d-pad suffer from the same defect, the ring with the directional buttons is too narrow, so you’ll likely push the center button a whole lot when you don’t mean to. I wound up avoiding it altogether, since I’ve got a touchscreen after all.

What actually surprised me most about the 640×360 screen was how much it totally didn’t blow me away. Let’s get the fact that it was a resistive touchscreen out of the way. The N97’s touch responsiveness was about as good as resistive screens get, but even at best, that’s minor league stuff compared to a capactive touchscreen—the touch hardware that makes the Palm Pre, iPhone, BlackBerry Storm, G1 and myTouch 3G awesome to poke and flick. In terms of visual quality, I simply never had a “wow” moment, like the first time you peep the brilliant screen on the Palm Pre. It’s acceptable bordering on good, though—watching YouTube videos on its Flash Lite-enabled browser was a solid experience, for sure.

The most disappointing aspect of the hardware is the pokey 424MHz processor that attempts to run this thing—the one spec that’s notably not emblazoned on the back of the N97, because it’d be a badge of goddamn shame. It still baffles me that Nokia sent their all-singing, all-dancing, all-Qiking flagship phone out into the world with this anemic slice of silicon. Running just a couple of basic apps at once—say, Facebook or Gravity and Music—I had more hangups with this thing than a telemarketer on meth. HTC’s been using 528MHz processors for what feels like an eternity, so what the hell?

As for the camera, well to start, there are two cameras. A 5-megapixel shooter on the back protected by sliding cover, and front-facing camera for video conferencing. It also shoots 640×480 video at 30 frames per second. As you can see, the still images are good, not great—despite the size they’re still washed out enough that they have the definite feel of “cameraphone” all over them, even in broad daylight. The LED flash is surprisingly strong, though you’re not going to light up a whole room with it, obviously. The secondary camera is pretty laughable in terms of quality, but that’s okay. And then the video quality is passable for a phone, though far from startling clarity, both the clips stored locally and the ones I uploaded to Qik using the built-in app.

My favorite hardware feature is the built-in two-way FM transmitter, so you can pick up radio stations or beam your music library out to your car’s FM radio, no Belkin dongle required. Performance was just about as good as a separate FM transmitter dongle, too. (Passable, but it’s never going to be awesome.)

Hurray for hardware standards, though. It charges over the same microUSB port that plugs into your computer, not the little tiny peehole that’s been Nokia standard for a million years. A standard 3.5 mm headphone jack is dead center on top, and it’s got stereo Bluetooth. And let’s not forget that 32GB of internal storage, which can be expanded by microSDHC cards for up to 48GB of total storage.

Overall, as much there is wrong internally, there’s a lot to like in the hardware—it’d be total win with a faster processor and more brilliant screen, since the battery seems more than up to the task.

Software
I don’t even know where to start the hate parade I want to unleash on S60 5th edition. Nokia’s managed to make RIM’s BlackBerry Storm OS retrofit look like a work of art. And when legacy (sorry, mature) software runs into a crappy half-assed UI, it’s a steaming pile of suck on a slab of garbage toast. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to shove Android onto it. Since I have nothing nice to say, let’s keep this part short.

Nokia’s instinct to widgetize the homescreen, giving you access to messaging, maps, the browser, Facebook or whatever else you want is a good one, and one of the few non-terrible things about the user interface. But even its visual feel is dated and worn, like someone dragged 2003 into the present tied to the back of a battered and rusted pickup truck. Yuck visual elements abound—in landscape mode, there’s a fairly persistent right-side dock of buttons, that steal screen real estate for no discernible reason at times. And inconsistency seems to be the rule. Some stuff you double tap to activate, other stuff you single tap. There’s a list in the manual detailing which is which—I forget. There’s no flick scrolling, except for when there is, like in the Ovi Store.

The phone’s built-in apps are solid, mostly, with the exception of the default email program (download Nokia Messaging 1.1 from Nokia to get an actually competent program).

The WebKit browser mostly kept pace with the iPhone’s over Wi-Fi. The interface isn’t as easy to use, like to zoom, but hey, it does Flash Lite, so suck on that everybody. The browser’s back button serves up thumbnails of previously visited websites you can zip through, a desperately needed touch of form and function on this phone.

Nokia Maps, if you want more than the basics—namely pedestrian or voice-guided navigation—you get a three-month trial before you have to pay up for a subscription. That said, it’s feature rich, with a compass, multiple map modes like 3D, traffic info and points of interest, though not as easy to use to pick and use as Google Maps on other platforms. (I handed it and an iPhone off to a friend in my car while navigating deep into the wastelands of Alabama, and Google Maps proved much easier for them to deal with, despite their intense dislike for all things Apple.)

It’s pre-crammed with a buttload of mostly excellent third party apps as well: Qik, RealPlayer, YouTube, JoikuSpot Premium, Accuweather, Facebook (a really impressive though appropriately S60 version) and Spore, to name just a handful. Qik in particular is fantastic—I set up an account and was livestreaming video within a minute of popping open the app.

That’s fortunate, because the Ovi Store manages to have the worst mobile app store interface I’ve seen yet. Just try to use that header/scrollbar thing on top to move between categories. And it’s “stuff,” not apps, since Nokia hawks a melange of goods at Ovi, from wallpapers to ringtones to apps, often jumbling them all on a single page. Speaking of Ovi, the desktop suite, also named Ovi, didn’t fall far from the Ovi tree—it’s a natural disaster that’s not a single app for managing your phone, but a handful of distinct apps that intersect in the actual “suite” launcher application. Imagine iTunes, then its remarkably confusing total opposite, ontologically speaking. (And I’m not even getting into the Ovi online services, which are distinct from Nokia’s other offerings, so I wound up creating two wholly different accounts in the process of getting my N97 totally setup.)

What a mixed bag.

Conclusion
Nokia has to know where it stands. At least, assuming somebody actually used the N97 before it went out the door.

Symbian S60 5th Edition only makes sense if it’s a stopgap keeping Nokia in the game (barely) until they put out an actual next-generation OS, just like the underwhelming Windows Mobile 6.5 will do for Microsoft. I’m really hoping for a complete rebuild of Symbian. I am not expecting Nokia to turn to an entirely different OS from a certain Goo-ey company despite recent (and retarded) rumors. Nokia is married to Symbian for the long haul—after all, they paid nearly half a billion dollars for it.

That’s the only way I can fathom them releasing something this unusable into a world populated by the iPhone, Palm Pre, Android and BlackBerry. If this really is the best Nokia can do, the giant is doomed to die a slow death, propped up for a while by the cheap handsets that it sells by the tens of millions.

Built-in Qik app and setup rocks

Widgets on homescreen are solid


32GB of storage expandable to 48 freakin’ GB


Two-way FM transmitter for playing music over car radio is awesome


Keyboard feels nice, but weird layout might bug some people


High-res touchscreen, though it doesn’t make the most of it


Pokey processor


Ovi Store is worst mobile app store on the planet


Symbian S60 5th edition user experience is garbage

Ever since the Egyptians (Mayans? Indians?) invented zero, curmudgeons have argued that technology creates as many problems as it solves, but I’ve never encountered a product that does exactly that, until now. I’m talking about a litter box.

We all know there are plenty of products that cause more problems than they solve. As a professional technologian, my job is to sift through innovations to see which ones make for an improved life, and which ones are too troublesome for their own good.

CatGenie—pardon the pun—gives me pause.

After spending a month with it, I declare that it is the perfect zero-sum innovation. Every single advancement comes with drawbacks. While my wife and I no longer suffer from any of the problems associated with a traditional litter box, we are beset with an abundance of unanticipated others.

CatGenie is one of these SkyMall-type gadgets that bills itself as the “World’s Only Self-Flushing, Self-Washing Cat Box,” tossing in, for good measure, a weighty promise: “Never touch, smell, or buy cat litter again.” You install it easily by splicing the cold water line from underneath your toilet, running a waste tube up around the lip of the same toilet, and plugging the contraption into the wall. You pour in beads that resemble litter enough that cats get the idea, and you click in a replaceable cartridge of cleaning agent.

When the automatic cleaning cycle is engaged, a mechanical scooper removes the poo, and detergent-infused water floods the box and then drains, taking any trace of funk with it. The moistened beads are then blown dry, like Ron Burgundy’s hair, as a sweet floral scent fills the bathroom and any adjacent living quarters. The crap in the toilet is easily flushed away, as long as you remember to do it.

Compared to the alternative of sifting out chunks from a litter box and tying them off in environmentally uncool plastic bags, this is a beautiful promise. Because of the automatic setup, there’s no chance of getting punished by your cat for forgetting to clean a box frequently enough. Everything I described above happens exactly as billed. And even our dumb neurotic brother-and-sister act somehow figured out how to use it very early on. They weren’t even intimidated by the swirling Sarlacc pit that it becomes during cleaning. My key initial fear turned out to be totally baseless.

So why does the thing make me yearn for the days of the scoopable Arm & Hammer, even though PetNovations Ltd says there are 82,940 households already enjoying this contraption?

When I first watched the cleaning cycle, with my gadget-lover’s grin, I marveled at the swirling and churning and slooshing and clacking. I kept marveling for about 15 minutes, by which time my grin had soured, and I was looking at my watch. By minute 25 I stormed out of the bathroom in annoyance, came back at minute 35, shocked that the thing was still doing its business, and then returned again, sometime after it had stopped, roughly 40 minutes after it had begun. CatGenie recommends that for two cats, the process should run two to three times a day. That’s two solid hours of cleaning cycle.

The installation is stupid simple, but you need to be within 8 feet of both a power jack and a toilet (or laundry water line and drain). If you think that’s easy, stick your head in the bathroom—very few have power jacks anywhere near toilets, and I had to run my power cord up along the back of a sink. It’s not a hazard, but it looks like Wilson’s Amateur Home Improvement Show down there.

CatGenie is also massive. Its basin has about half the volume our cats are used to, but because of its wide surrounding lip and the tower of machinery, the system is probably 25% larger than a good-sized plastic litter box.

After a few days, we discovered an interesting characteristic of the non-toxic litter beads: They do not absorb odors. Right around 8:30 every morning, our big male cat, Wade, comes trotting up the stairs with a combination guilty/relieved look on his face, and soon after, we are engulfed in a sickening stink. Mind you, the cats’ depository is an entire floor away down the stairs in the guest bathroom. Scooping the offending dung into the toilet would defeat the purpose of owning a robotic litter box. (“Never touch litter again,” they promised.) My sole move is to, yep, run the damn machine.

Only the problem doesn’t go away instantly. In fact, it gets worse before it gets better.

As the detergent floods the basin containing Wade’s leavings, the whole thing becomes a savory poop stew. Even when we run the fan in the bathroom, the smell is unbearable for about 10 minutes, after which it disappears instantly, replaced by the machine’s pleasant perfume.

I kept telling myself that these problems are just growing pains, things to get accustomed to. CatGenie is not as messy as a litter box. There’s none of that residual ammonia smell that you can’t get rid of permanently, and for the most part, none of the crusty extras that come from overzealous (or just misguided) burying. The plastic beads manage to find their way all over the house, and I am embarrassed to confess, our 1.5-year-old kid manages to stick one in her mouth about every two weeks, but they are non-toxic plastic beads after all, and nothing that can’t be vacuumed up.

At least, I once told myself, there are no more plastic bags full of poop and urea headed out to some landfill. I read somewhere once that San Francisco had solved something like 90% of its trash problems, and that the remaining 10% was cat and dog poop in plastic bags. (Not the actual stats, btw.) At least by switching to a bagless litter system like this, I’m being environmentally kosher, right?

Not in the least.

During every cleaning cycle, CatGenie runs a built-in hair dryer over all the beads for about 20 minutes. I plugged in my Kill-a-Watt meter and discovered this demanded a constant and alarming 1160 watts of electricity. For up to an hour per day, I am running the equivalent of four large plasma TVs, just so I don’t have to touch litter.

The costs start to mount. Besides the up-front $300 and the daily running of water and electricity, the $15 cartridge needs to be replaced every 60 cycles—that is, every 20 to 30 days. And the scatter-prone beads need to be replenished every three to six months, at $24 per carton. Like an inkjet printer, the maintenance costs continue forever, making the notion of buying a $7 box of Arm & Hammer every two weeks seem all the more reasonable.

Despite all these negatives, a great debate rages in my household: I would like to return to the olden ways of scoop and bag, and my wife says, “No.” Her argument, a good one, is that the bathroom has never stayed cleaner. Guests have to step around an awfully large contraption, but at least “it doesn’t feel like you’re walking into a barn.”

As Sigmund Freud once explained, moving from the wilderness to the towns didn’t solve humankind’s problems, it just swapped out the rustic difficulties for more urbane ones. His conclusion, though, was that while life still sucks, there’s a reason we don’t move back to caves. After experiencing a more civilized litter box, I can’t revert to scooping poop, but I impatiently await the next evolutionary leap in cat sanitation. [Product Page]

In brief:
After cleaning it’s amazingly fresh


Cats took to it almost from the start


Sounds like the TARDIS when it runs (could be a minus for some but not me)


Easy installation


Can run automatically up to four times per day

Empties into toilet that must be flushed


Non-toxic clean beads get all over house

Beads don’t kill odor


It’s huge and must be stationed near toilet and power plug


Self-cleaning cycle runs over 40 minutes, smelly at the start and hot at the end


Hot-air bead dryer demands 1160 watts of electricity for about 20 minutes


No way to stop cycle once it has started

Sony’s cassette tape Walkman came to life in many shapes and forms through the years. Here are a few of the great, the important and sometimes plain weird Walkman models.

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The original TPS-L2 Walkman went on sale 30 years ago today, July 1st 1979, in Japan. It played stereo and had dual mini headphone jacks for sharing audio with a friend. There was a mic, but it was not used for recording, but to output your voice to your buddy’s headset so he could hear you over the music. The press received it in a lukewarm fashion, but the device took off thanks to celebrity product placement.

The 1981 WM-2 is the first attempt at making a Walkman so small, its only slightly bigger than the tape.

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The first Sony Sport walkman was quite waterproof, with jack plug and gaskets around the buttons and tape hold. From 1984. They offered special edition models for locations like Hawaii and Okinana Beach.

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The WM-F2 came out in 1982 and was the first Walkman to include both playback, recording and an FM tuner.

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.The WM-DD was the first personal model to move from a belt driven motor to a “disc drive” reducing wow and flutter and greatly improving the quality of sound reproduction. It also had a metal case.

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The WM-F107 was solar charged, but would not support playback as the power to run the tape was more demand than the now ancient back mounted panel could keep up with. It handled FM fine, however, off the stream of electrons. 1987.

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The WM-10 expanded on the tiny WM-2’s small form factor, and is considered by the experts at Walkman Central to remain a fine example of reduction engineering. For example: the single AA battery was not actually powerful enough to turn the motors, so they used a step up converter to power the tape drive. 1983.

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.The 1983 Walkman Music Shuttle was a Walkman that docked into a car stereo. Wow that guy is super stoked to be listening to the same song he was just driving to!

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.1985: The WM-W800 is a Walkman with TWO tape decks. One for playback, one for recording, which made dubbing tapes ridiculously easy. More photos at Walkman Central.

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.The WM-3000 from 1990 is one of the earliest My First Sony products designed for kids. They took a basic walkman, and made sure the edges weren’t sharp, the batteries couldn’t be easily popped out of the back and swallowed and the volume limiter ensured baby eardrums didn’t pop under duress of mother goose tapes.

The WM-GX202 is one of the last tape playing Walkmen and guess what? They’re still being sold in Japan in 2009! The product’s focus is not on music, but on language learning tapes.