I like post-rock music. The lack of lyrics, the gently rolling soundscapes, the slowly building peaks and gentle falloffs all make it ideal as background while coding, or writing, or just sitting around thinking. Seriously, hit play and sit a spell:
This song is by one of my favorite bands, the Austin, TX-based Explosions in the Sky, who recently released a new album. I'd write a review, but a recent Slate article by Mike Spies summed it up very nicely:
[T]hough the band has crafted, over the span of a decade, 38 separate tracks, it would be more accurate to say they've crafted one, gorgeous, ever-evolving score, to which listeners establish an individual relationship. While the music is very emotional, per se, it resists revealing itself and never asks to be "understood," which is why it tends to attract people who have nothing in common, as there is no singular message to unite under—no inside joke to be shared among fans. Instead, the music attaches itself to the situation in which it is played, giving shape and purpose to moments worthy of status updates while, simultaneously, recalibrating the planet's hierarchy of importance in the process. Suddenly the Arab Spring takes a backseat to the eating of a Boston cream doughnut. Suddenly the death of Osama Bin Laden takes a backseat to a trip through Target. Suddenly, like a teenager, you feel as though you're the center of the world.