Feeling The Miles
Searching for the perfect road trip record
I want to thank my audience for the passionate response to my recent Kenny Chesney piece. The analytics reveal a significantly higher percentage of clicks, reads, and email opens than usual. Simultaneously, I experienced a notable number of unsubscribes in the 24 hours following publication. This suggests that both the topic and my approach sparked considerable passion among readers, for better or worse. I guess that is a sign of strength.
An acquaintance of mine is an editor for a well known online publication. I sent over some of my work for feedback. I was informed that I should stop burying the lede so much. Apparently that's a thing I do. The feedback was much appreciated, it is hard to grow in a craft without a sense of what is working and what can be improved.
Today, I would like to explore how the intentionality of the music experience has evolved for listeners over time and how that intersects with the music we listen to in the car. As I typically do in this publication, I aim to discuss a broader topic and use particular songs, albums, or artists as vehicles for demonstrating and expressing ideas. This approach allows us to examine broader cultural ideas through the lens of music. This is the raison d’être of Today I Heard.
There was an era when experiencing music required deliberate effort. You had to travel to an opera house or concert hall with a purchased ticket in hand. Perhaps you gathered around a piano in your parlor or picked up a guitar on the front porch or around a blazing fire. Either way, the experience demanded forethought and intention.
As technology has advanced, music has transformed from an intentional choice into something more ambient. This reshaped the nature of our engagement. The preparatory effort required to engage with those oh so pleasant sounds that stimulate our neurological pathways has lessened with each subsequent innovation.
Take vinyl. Records required deliberate effort. You’d need to get up off your chair, visit your bookshelf, select an album, remove it from its cover, and place it carefully on the turntable. CDs made this process somewhat easier. More compact, portable etc. Later came the ability to transfer music to computers and iPods. All of a sudden, the music was on a device in your pocket that you could simply pull out and click, requiring significantly less effort than managing CDs, even with a fancy six-disc changer in your stereo. Now, streaming technology has pushed this convenience to its logical conclusion. This ease of access has fundamentally transformed not just how we listen to music, but when and where we consider music listening appropriate. The barriers have essentially disappeared. Any moment can become a musical moment with just a few taps on a screen, requiring essentially no planning or commitment.
This technological progression has created entirely new paradigms for music listening that simply did not exist before. Take the car.
Circa 1905, listening to some Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov in your horse and buggy while traveling into town would have been utterly absurd. It simply didn't exist conceptually. Yet today, the car has become perhaps our primary music venue, a shift made possible entirely by technological advancement.
The environment of the automobile lends itself to particular forms of musical expression and consumption. When driving, we need music to complement our primary task of getting from A to B. We want enhancement without distraction. Something to keep on in the background to “set a good vibe”.
As our music consumption becomes increasingly ambient, we often lose the depth of engagement that once exclusively characterized our connection with music. This explains the market for relatively bland, innocuous music. If you are a store proprietor playing music in a grocery store, you don't want to provoke strong emotions like "I love this song" or "I hate this song"—you want something that goes down easy, creating a pleasant but forgettable background ambiance. The music becomes akin to wallpaper, it is in the air but not demanding attention, designed specifically not to interrupt the shopping experience or trigger strong emotional responses.
Obviously, not all modern music listening scenarios are as mindless as grocery store Muzak. There are many middle zones that modernity and technology has allowed us. In our cars, we have choices. What do you listen to when you're behind the wheel? How much thought do you put into it? I'm curious about readers' perspectives, so let me share my approach and see if it aligns with others.
For short trips and commutes, I often listen to the radio. I wrote about my attraction to radio in a piece a year or two ago.
There's something refreshing about the randomness, especially when you can flip between a few stations. You don't necessarily know what's coming, and during a commute of five to ten songs, you'll encounter both familiar tunes and uncomfortable newness. A perfect blend.
On longer trips, however, I tend toward more intentional choices. With radio, unless you live in a region blessed with independent stations or subscribe to XM, you'll hear the same songs repeatedly within an hour. On a multi-hour journey, this repetition quickly becomes monotonous. The randomness that makes radio appealing exists only in smaller sample sizes. Over the long haul, the limited playlist of most commercial stations becomes painfully apparent. What initially feels like variety reveals itself as the same thirty- forty songs recycled in slightly different orders.
Like many others, I've created extensive playlists featuring music I enjoy from throughout the years. I've developed something of a system. Every year or two, I'll methodically review my favorited songs and albums and make additions, carefully selecting another fifty or so songs that complement the vibe I'm seeking for these longer journeys. I consider tempo, lyrics, and how each track transitions to potential neighbors. Most selections are old classics and personal favorites that have proven themselves over time, making for a reliable and enjoyable experience that can stretch across hundreds of miles without repetition.
Increasingly, though, I find myself listening to complete albums when I have to crank out a long drive. This shift stems partly from my growing appreciation for the album format over the past five to ten years (which I've also written about previously).
I've come to value the artistic statement that a well-crafted album represents with its intentional sequencing, the thematic connections, etc. However, as it concerns a drive, the careful pacing and sequencing of an album is superior to a shuffled playlist which, despite careful curation, often produces jarring transitions or emotional whiplash that can be distracting while driving.
A good road trip record walks several fine lines. You don't want something too up-tempo—we've all glanced at the speedometer only to discover we're driving 20 mph faster than intended during an energetic number. Conversely, an album full of ballads might lull you into dangerous inattention. Mid-tempo seems ideal for maintaining focus without unconsciously increasing speed.
Beyond technical considerations, the perfect road trip soundtrack serves as a personalized companion to the rhythm of your travels. The experience required for this is not necessarily the same for everyone. A perfect road trip album for some might resemble a Kane Brown record, showcasing a rich tapestry of genre-blending and diverse sonic landscapes within one defined work. The blended genres and shifting moods from track to track provides necessary-for-some variety to keep a driver engaged over long distances.
But honestly, a trademark stylistically diverse Kane Brown record, to my ears, isn't particularly different from shuffling a playlist full of different styles. The tracks don't necessarily create the specific cohesive companion I need on the road. Instead, they stand as individual pieces that happen to share album space.
When I am faced with miles of highway ahead, I want to stay focused and get into a rhythm; locked in and cruising as the mile markers pass by in a blur. You find yourself in that very particular balance of highway driving: being alert to potential dangers while comfortably settled into the hypnotic flow of the road, a state enhanced by the right music. For this, I enjoy cohesive consistent neotraditional country. Often with a bit of muscle—some electric guitar and heft, with a good rhythm to keep me going as the mile markers flash past.
While I appreciate that solid driving rhythm, I steer clear of anything too aggressive. That means no Koe Wetzel or hard rock-leaning country. Their energy might lead me to speed or cut others off. Instead, I've found that somewhat neo-traditional country and the softer edge of country rock hits that perfect middle ground.
Among many others in this crowded subgenre, Ronnie Dunn's most recent record exemplifies this style. But, the Randy Rogers Band album “Homecoming” might hold the title for me as the perfect road trip record.
It's quintessential Texas country featuring a relatively small band with electric guitar, bass, drums, and fiddle. The instrumentation creates a perfect driving soundtrack, featuring the steady thump of drums, muscular yet non-aggressive guitar, a solid bass foundation, and fiddle flourishes to keep it interesting. Together they create nice honky-tonk rhythms and straightforward country rock styles that typically maintain a mid-tempo pace perfect for steady highway cruising.
Homecoming offers diverse lyrics and storytelling—enough to keep me engaged and occasionally perk up my attention—while maintaining a very consistent sonic atmosphere and tempo throughout. The fiddle adds pleasant texture, and Randy Rogers' warm, inviting vocals create a fantastic traveling companion, enhancing the sense of comfort as I traverse state lines and shifting landscapes.
The near monotonous consistency, which would be considered a weakness in other musical contexts, becomes a strength for driving music. This consistency creates a soundtrack that complements the road, allowing me to maintain that perfect driving mindset without jarring transitions or dramatic shifts that might break your concentration.
It hits that sweet spot of mid-tempo rhythm, engaging vocals, and interesting lyrics that keep you entertained. It places you in the ideal mindset for driving, crafting a soundtrack that resonates with the landscape racing by your windows.
There are extra merits, of course, for songs about driving. Rest assured, The Randy Rogers Band has a few of these on this record. Fast Car….
Nothing but Love Songs…
Etc….
There's something undeniably satisfying about listening to highway music on the highway. For example, Tim McGraw’s Two Lanes of Freedom while driving on two lanes of freedom.
But that is what I look for on the road. What about you guys? Do you prefer the structure of albums or do you embrace the randomness of the shuffle experience? Do you gravitate toward particular artists or genres when driving? What are go-to songs that have become cherished traditions when hitting the highway? I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Thanks for reading,
Joe
P.S.
The Wilder Blue have some of the best traveling musician songs. There's some good overlap between that subgenre and proper road trip music. Hits much of the same vibe. There's a particular sort of country-funk-disco thing they reach for when crafting road songs that is infectious.