But then again, we all knew it would be hard to beat everything that happened in '04. Bright Eyes took the national stage right next to The Boss, and Saddle Creek made a mark on the indie charts with The Faint, The Good Life, Son, Ambulance, Broken Spindles, Beep, Beep and Now It's Overhead. And for the first time, a proliferation of non-Creek Omaha bands got much-deserved attention from "other" labels, including Statistics, The '89 Cubs, The Bruces, Simon Joyner and Little Brazil. With '05 knocking on the door, the only direction we were headed was up.

But to everyone's surprise, something changed. The breeze shifted oh so slightly, and for once, the world began spinning just a little bit slower. By the end of the year, whispers of "Hey, did we just peak?" could be heard in the clubs and record stores. Indie music fans were quietly humming Peggy Lee's "Is That All There Is?"

For the first time since '99, a cloak of boredom has fallen over the world of indie rock. Look, it couldn't go on forever. Everything happens in cycles, right? You can only run full tilt for so long before you run out of breath and fatigue takes over your body… and your mind. If '04 was the year that Omaha (and indie) broke into the national consciousness, '05 was the year that indie (and Omaha) began to run out of steam.

It didn't start out that way, at least not for Bright Eyes. The much anticipated double release of I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning and Digital Ash in a Digital Urn crashed onto the record charts atop a wave of national publicity that hasn't been seen in these parts since Frazier/Stander in '72. Newsday used the tired ol' "New Dylan" line, while Time declared Bright Eyes' main man Conor Oberst "Indie Rock's Dark Prince." When the charts came out at the end of January, Wide Awake was No. 10 while Digital Ash was No. 15. Combined first-week sales of both discs exceeded 100,000. Impressive by anyone's standards.

But underneath the hype for I'm Wide Awake, there were snickers for Digital Ash. Fans and critics said the electronic-flavored CD tried too hard and lacked the depth of its understated, elegant other.

While an undeniably popular ticket, the combined Bright Eyes-Faint Tour exposed a few more chinks in ol' Conor's armor. More than a few people -- and a whole lot more music critics -- left the venues thinking that The Faint got a better look at the ball and knocked it out of the park. Instead of complementing each other, the combination highlighted subtle deficiencies. Oberst's music was boring compared to The Faint's, while The Faint's was downright stupid compared to Oberst's. In a bare-knuckle fight between "thinking" and "dancing," dancing wins every time.

Oberst would lick his wounds and go out on a "greatest hits" follow-up tour that got the critics back on his side. But had the damage already been done? For the first time, a crack (though oh so slight) appeared in the shiny veneer. And it wasn't the only one. Oberst's Team Love record label -- created out of frustration with a Saddle Creek bureaucracy that kept decisions moving at a snail's pace -- rolled along in '05, signing acts as diverse as Dave Dondero, Jenny Lewis and former Shudder to Think frontman Craig Wedren. Meanwhile, Creek puttered forward, riding the Bright Eyes wave for all it was worth. Creek's new acts -- Maria Taylor and Orenda Fink -- were repackaging of an already-held commodity (Azure Ray). Then in July, Creek signed San Francisco sea-shanty-rock duo Two Gallants -- an addition that left most label followers scratching their heads.

Still, there were a number of bright spots for Creek. After years of watching from the sidelines, local favorite Criteria was invited into the fold -- a smart addition. Then there was the deal struck with the City of Omaha that made way for the construction of Slowdown -- the label's office/bar/music complex that had been left for dead after a citizen revolt the year before.

But even with 11 respectful releases in '05, Saddle Creek seemed to be running in place. They weren't alone. Indie music as a whole lost its spark last year with no clear direction in sight. After the ass-rape of '60s garage punk and '80s post-new wave dance music, indie seems to be in a holding pattern, with all of the usual suspects coasting on their laurels. Death Cab for Cutie's new one? We've heard it before. Critic darlings Sleater-Kinney? '90s Grunge meets tired heavy metal. New Pornographers? More like old Beatles.

But here's the rub: Whereas your typical indie nerd has grown weary of hearing the same old jangling guitar and warble-voiced confessions, the big boys at the big labels are just now discovering that there could be something more out there than the latest American Idol contest winner or recently paroled thug-life hip-hop act. "Yeah," the suits say chomping their cigars, "maybe these indie kids are onto something. Let's sign 'em."

And quicker than you can say "massive sell out," the big labels are becoming indie-fied, driven by buzz generated from overheard tracks on The OC or hot soundtrack fodder from the latest hip indie film. And while all this might give indie music more exposure than ever dreamed possible, those of us who have always followed college music are now in for a repeat of the last five years, only on a grander scale. Translated: Death Cab for Cutie was great… back when We Have the Facts and We're Voting Yes came out five years ago.