Thank you, Noah Kahan.
I present to you my ode to the singer who’s steered me through my transition into freshman year at an out-of-state college, away from everyone and everything I’ve ever known.
My first year at UW has been far more demanding than I imagined, to say the least. Candidly, I was naive upon my arrival, reasoning that since I’ve always been uber-independent…how hard could it be? Well, reality promptly hit me harder than that grueling trek up to the third floor of Odegaard. The novelty of college definitely becomes more natural over time, but the next thing you know, you’re crying a whole ocean of tears. Again.
Now rounding out my second full quarter, I’ve stumbled across two invaluable truths: it’s acceptable to cancel your own classes on that rare sunny February day to rendezvous on Denny Field, and blasting music in my earbuds is my favorite remedy for the ever-evolving emotions.
And that’s where 27 year old singer/songwriter Noah Kahan enters the conversation. Hailing from Vermont, Noah initially went TikTok-famous thanks to a clip of his breakout song “Stick Season,” claiming inspiration from renowned artists like Paul Simon, Mumford & Sons, and Hozier.
Forget your average shaggy-haired indie-folk singer– the combination of Noah’s gut-wrenching lyrics and brilliant harmonies lead him to be a genre-defying maestro whose melodies have a magical way of speaking to the heart.
So in honor of Noah Kahan and his lyrical wizardry, here are some particular lyrics that have helped me navigate the changing of the times.
First: the classic that started it all, Stick Season
“And I’ll dream each night of some version of you,
That I might not have, but I did not lose”
I regard “Stick Season” as a meditation on the internal human landscape of emotion and memory, the silent struggles with loneliness, and eventual discovery of yourself. The song chronicles the quietude of transition, capturing the essence of moments filled with a sense of displacement; a mirror reflecting the universal experience of navigating life on the threshold. Noah’s evocative definition of “stick season” as the liminal space bridging autumn’s farewell and winter’s onset serves as a poignant metaphor for the daunting leap into college life. It alludes to a melancholic yearning for something you no longer have, or that you still have but isn’t quite the same. “Stick Season” is an exploration of the relation between the self and relationships amidst inevitabilities of growth. When I listen to the song, it transports me to my 19th birthday last month, which was one of my first true defining milestones where it just hit me that nothing is the same as it was.
Up next– Growing Sideways
“But I ignore things, and I move sideways
Until I forget what I felt in the first place”
Here, Noah provides a commentary on a fraction of the human condition: our nuanced, individualized growth journey and the acceptance of your own unique pace in life. This bit speaks to the struggles of adaptation, particularly in the context of a new environment (college core!). There lies a gentle acknowledgment of the inherent worth found by accepting your own rhythm. Noah’s metaphorical imagery evokes the swinging motion of a pendulum, symbolizing the cyclical nature of our struggles while simultaneously underlining the ethos of being caught in a fringe space. My own progress has felt stagnant and even elusive at times, and I get down on myself because it often feels like my friends are moving at a faster pace. But this track reminds me that it’s okay to diverge from societal expectations, and everything that is meant for me will come in its own due time.
Next– Orange Juice
“You said my heart has changed and my heart has changed
And my heart, and my heart,
That my life had changed, that this town had changed
And you had not.”
Delving into “Orange Juice” we find ourselves amidst the poignant exploration of a significant perspective shift. Spotlighting my analysis against the backdrop of the college experience, a time full of new adventures and challenges, the song is a canvas for illustrating the inevitable evolution we all undergo. The past five months have served as an inadvertent journey through intricate dynamics of drifting from familiar people and places that I once deemed inseparable. This painted exploration is a deeply thematic reflection on how distance from familiarity can bring into focus the ways we’ve changed, and how such changes aren’t always met with acceptance by those who remain stuck in the static. Returning to my hometown from college has been a strange experience so far: only I know how much I’ve evolved from who I used to be pre-college. Noah’s percussive symphony of emotion eloquently captures the declaration that change is an integral part of life’s narrative.
Last but certainly not least, Call Your Mom (Ft. Lizzy McAlpine)
“Don’t let this darkness fool you,
All lights turned off can be turned on”
The opening verse serves as a profound call to action that compels listeners to bridge the gaps of communication that often accompany the whirlwind of college life. Amid the hustle and bustle, it’s almost too easy to lose sight of the importance of connecting with those closest to us. This deeply emotive song navigates complex grounds of mental health struggles with a tenderness and vulnerability that is both rare and necessary in today’s music. Noah and Lizzy masterfully encapsulate the essence of human interconnectedness, emphasizing that being present for one another holds an innate value that can be found through admitting our fragilities and finding strength through communal support. With each note, the song echoes a simple yet profound message: Call. Your. Mom.
So if you’re in a time of transition like me, have too many emotions to handle, or are just in need of authentic music, I recommend you check out Noah Kahan. But really be attentive to his lyrics, and really let the music wash over you.
Thank you, Noah Kahan.
Love, Sophia
P.S Check out my Spotify @sophiasostrin :)