I've started adding a little bit of vanilla soy milk to my coffee in the morning. I was always against putting anything in coffee - I thought coffee was delicious enough on its own and it didn't need all these kinds of ridiculous things to dress it up. It's like putting a sweater on a dog. But I've started adding vanilla soy milk and I'm kind of getting into it. The most obvious benefit is that it cools the coffee down to a drinkable temperature almost immediately. This has had a profound impact on my cup/hour ratio, something that is especially important in the morning when I need to pack in as much caffeine as possible. I think I like the taste, but I'm still deciding. The soy milk mutes the natural flavor of the coffee a bit, makes it a little less complex and a whole lot less intense. I don't think I could make the switch for every cup of coffee I drink, but it's not a bad thing to wake up to.

So, I spent a lot of time in Nebraska last year and the year before that collecting economic data for my old job. I'd fly in the day before my first appointment, which was usually in the morning. There was no way I could have made a nine o'clock in, say, Auburn if I wasn't already in the state. I'd fly in the day before and get up very early and drive to some rural part of Nebraska, usually drinking Diet Coke because I didn't have anyway to bring the hotel coffee with me. I'd sometimes drive for an hour and a half each way, so I was always sure to burn at least one mix CD. Driving down rural highways in Nebraska at dawn can be surreal. You can always see the horizon and the highways tend to be near empty. The speed limit is universally seventy miles an hour. Even when I knew I was going to interview a hostile respondent, driving to their office felt liberating. I also got some great music listening in.

Engine Down's "Songbird" was one of those songs that I first heard by choosing it at random for a mix CD. I've listened to the song in a variety of settings and none have been as complimentary as those morning drives in Nebraska. The vocals sound tired, as if the singer woke up minutes before recording the song and the band never really seems to step forward and take command from him. The rhythm section sets a great groove but the guitarists seem content to sit behind it and add depth with a smattering of dissonant chords. There's neither the tension nor the enveloping sound of warm guitars and strained vocals that I've come to associate with post-hardcore. The song feels under-developed at times and that works in its favor.

The song's empty space is relaxing. It trusts the listener to appreciate the nuances of the song structure, to notice what the band isn't playing. Engine Down doesn't do this by creating contrast, by showing us what they could be playing and then showing us what it sounds like when they aren't playing it, they just assume the listener will understand. Post-hardcore bands like Small Brown Bike do an excellent job of impressing the listener with their riffs and clever song structures, but it can sometimes feel like a guided tour of the complexities genre. No matter how knowledgeable a tour guide is, we all need sometime to get lost on our own.

I don't miss those drives where I was sure I was going to be late to an appointment (I never was) or frantically looking for a road sign because I hadn't seen one in fifteen minutes and I was sure I was lost (I never was). I do miss those times when I knew I didn't have to turn off a particular highway for a half hour or an hour. I miss those times when there was no need to do more than concentrate on driving, when I could listen to a song like "Songbird" and not think about when or how the next turn was going to come. Otherwise, you know, it's just Nebraska.

"Songbird" - Engine Down