Every long train journey gets three songs and no more. One for leaving, one for the middle hours when the landscape stops being interesting, and one for arriving. Choosing them is most of the pleasure.
For leaving
It has to be something with a beginning you can hear — a door opening rather than a room you are already in.
For the middle
Something long. Something that does not mind being half-listened to. This is the hour when you eat the sandwich you regret buying and consider, briefly, changing your entire life.
For arriving
This one is the hardest, because you have to guess in advance what kind of mood you will be in when the platform appears. I get it wrong most of the time. That is fine — being wrong about it is also part of the ritual.