Batteries not included (or required)

AirPods seem like such a fixture of our world that it’s weird to think they debuted only seven years ago. In that short time, they’ve not only become ubiquitous ¹ but have reshaped social norms around:

• Disposability: The batteries in AirPods are small and thus short-lived. Within a few years, they won’t hold a charge—and they’re not user-serviceable.
• Music quality: AirPods use Bluetooth, which is as Steve Jobs himself might’ve said, “a bag of hurt.” It doesn’t support lossless quality—something Apple Music has marketed as a big differentiator vis-à-vis Spotify—and it often introduces noisy wireless interference that’s never plagued wired headphones.
• Social isolation: Whereas wired headphones send a clear signal (pun intended!) to the outer world that you were listening to something or talking to someone, AirPods don’t. They’re hard to see from some angles and overall very small.

Ian Bogost examined the third issue in depth in 2018, talking about how AirPods—by being so inconspicuous—pointed to a world in which we withdraw more and more into our devices, a prediction that now seems dead-on given the upcoming Vision Pro:

[E]arbuds will cease to perform any social signaling whatsoever. Today, having one’s earbuds in while talking suggests that you are on a phone call, for example. Having them in while silent is a sign of inner focus—a request for privacy. That’s why bothering someone with earbuds in is such a social faux-pas: They act as a do-not-disturb sign for the body. But if AirPods or similar devices become widespread, those cues will vanish. Everyone will exist in an ambiguous state between public engagement with a room or space and private retreat into devices or media.

I’ll add that they also amplify anxiety. They make certain critical sounds, such as those from car engines, less audible, meaning possible danger becomes less apparent and multitasking—withdrawing into music while looking out for threats—more stressful. And then there’s the mercurial battery life, which can vary widely between each individual pod.

One time I showed up at the gym thinking I had a full charge in both of them, but one was totally empty despite its indicator, and so I could only listen in mono ² for an hour of exercise. I was in “private retreat” as Bogost describes it, but only partially because I wasn’t isolated in what I really wanted. So I had neither isolation nor immersion in the moment—just someone talking in (one of) my ears.

Discharged from anxiety

That event plus my overall awareness of how rapidly AirPod battery life declines has made me a wired headphone acolyte anew. It’s like 2004 again when I wore the white earbuds that came with my click wheel iPod.

Seriously, if wired headphones didn’t already exist, you’d sound like either a genius or a madman pitching the idea of a device that:

• Never has to be charged
• Easily handles a lossless signal
• Can fit comfortably in your pocket

They’re almost too good to be true when conceived of in this way. And I’ve embraced this freedom from batteries elsewhere, too.

I got an Apple Extended Keyboard II that’s fully powered by its Apple Desktop Bus connection to my iMac ³, unlike the stock keyboard that comes with the computer. For my Nintendo Switch, I use the HORI Split Pad Compact in handheld mode—it’s more comfortable than the Joy Cons, has a proper D-pad, and never has to be charged.

These battery-free connections reduce one source of anxiety—will my AirPods work, are my controllers ready, do I need to recharge my keyboard—and remind me that there’s no such thing as total isolation. The type of wireless retreat into fantasy that Bogost feared is just that—a fantasy that’s built on the notion that we don’t even need a literal lifeline to something else, that we can really just power on our own with our short-lived batteries.