The morning after the 2016 presidential election, singer-songwriter Gabriel Kahane took a two-week train trip across the United States with no phone or internet, embracing 8,980 miles of monkish Amtrak existence. The result is this hymn to the analog intimacy of American rail culture as antidote to the fragmentation and efficiency of modern life. Alone at the piano, Kahane draws from dining-car conversations he had with dozens of strangers—cowboys, postmasters, religious luddites, software engineers—to sing of his own upended assumptions about the body politic as revealed through his unplugged railroad exile.