Author: Maggie Baring

By Maggie Baring

I find myself, once again, unable to write about anything other than Noah Kahan. Hot off the heels of a Grammy nomination this February and a final re-release of his Stick Season album — complete with a new song, ‘Forever’, and eight other songs featuring special guests such as Hozier and Sam Fender — Noah Kahan played two sold out shows at Wembley Arena this week. I had the utter privilege of witnessing night two. The tickets were bought months ago, before Noah Kahan was huge, before Grammy nominations and number ones, so they were highly anticipated. 

Even so, the cheapest seats I could find saw us sitting at, laughably, the furthest point from the stage. You could not have picked a worse seat. The electricity of the entire evening nevertheless assured that not a single person in the arena left without being moved in some way. Kahan himself, in one of his many quippy comments between songs, outlined his aim for the evening: that if anybody left the concert with a smile on their face, he had not done his job properly. This was undoubtedly met with laughter, and as I looked around me it was definitely difficult to find a frowning one. In fact, Noah Kahan fans, of which I proudly call myself an avid one, are very lovely people. The atmosphere of love, empathy and charged emotion shared between ten thousand people, gently swaying to the slower more gut-wrenching songs, or dancing manically — arms around one another or holding hands — to the faster-paced songs, can be attributed to the kind of people who listen to Noah Kahan’s music. I have been to my fair share of concerts where the fans have felt on-par with rowdy football fans, and so I understand first-hand how an atmosphere in a venue as well as the attitude of the audience can affect the impression of the music. Kahan has spoken frequently about his gratitude to his parents for encouraging him from a very early age to be open about his emotions, and teaching him how to convey them through talking and later singing. The fans that flock to listen to his songs are similarly emotionally intelligent. There was a deep sense of camaraderie and support, and my friend and I spoke to surrounding fans at our seats in the very back with a friendliness that one rarely finds among strangers. A shared love of music, and an understanding of the deep feelings that underlie each song, is truly a powerfully bonding force. 

Now onto the concert itself. After a rather drawn out start to the concert, with an opening from up-and-coming Wild Rivers at 7.30pm, a set that only lasted 45 minutes followed by an hours wait, Kahan emerged onto a golden-lit stage complete with drummer, bassist and electric guitarist. He himself switched from mandolin, electric and acoustic guitars regularly. A banjo was even thrown in occasionally. I was struck in equal measure by Kahan’s vocal control and musicianship, from both him and his band members. Being able to remain in-tune when the cheers and voices of ten thousand are drowning out almost all other sounds (his in-ear monitors would help with this, no doubt), is a feat that is often taken for granted by audiences in large venues. Vocal deviations from the recorded versions of songs — added vocal riffs or ‘oohs’, for example — make audiences feel special, like they are witnessing something fresh and new. Many of Kahan’s songs have instrumental breaks that offer space for guitar solos, complete with knee slides and complex drum fills that prompted raucous screams from the crowds. The image of Kahan himself, labelled as ‘Hairy Styles’ or ‘Jewish Capaldi’ acting out energetic rock guitar moves, whilst singing incredibly sad songs about mental health or the death of his dog, was rather bizarre and created some funny moments. But his self-depreciating attitude (beginning the set calling himself ‘your favourite non-Grammy winner’) means that we are always laughing with him, never at him. 

Much to our delight, Kahan brought out James Bay (who had brought Kahan on tour when he was nineteen, launching his career) and Ben Howard to sing harmonies and verses on songs. James Bay was more impressive, singing the second verse on ‘Growing Sideways’ with his classic low and vibrato’d grain, whilst Ben Howard could hardly be heard in his harmonies in ‘Orange Juice’. The guests rushed on and off the stage in quick succession however, retaining full attention on Kahan himself. 

The energy ebbed and flowed throughout the set, beginning with some powerful rock numbers including ‘Northern Attitude’ and ‘New Perspective’. Kahan was then left on his own on the stage, armed only with an acoustic guitar, captivating the audience in near silence as he sang his sadder, slower acoustic songs. He even graced us with a new song, and two songs from his oldest album, which delighted my friend who had been listening to Kahan since she was fifteen when the album, ‘Busyhead’ came out. Kahan left his most famous song, ‘Stick Season’ until the very end, and taunted the audience by leaving the stage before he played it, claiming it to be the end of the set. The cheers and screams during this tense few minutes raised the electricity to new heights and by the time he reemerged to reveal he was going to play three more songs, almost everybody was screaming. Although not my favourite Kahan song, one cannot deny that the single that sent Kahan to stratospheric fame deserves every credit it receives. There is something completely revolutionary about hearing it live. The song is incredibly lyrically complex, and yet every single word of the song was sung clearly by the audience, drowning out Kahan’s own voice. It is clear from watching his face as he sings this song that he is still not used to how it changed his life, and how it resonates with his audiences. 

Noah Kahan now leaves England to continue his tour in France, then Germany and other European countries. He will return to England in August. Get your tickets if it’s the last thing you do.

By Maggie Baring

Recently, my father and I, both avid music listeners, formulated a revolutionary new musical theory: that the average listener of mainstream music is either a music or lyric listener. They either pay attention to how the melodies, rhythms or atmosphere of a song make them feel, or they listen avidly to what the singer is saying; unpicking each line and its possible contexts, meanings and implications. If you, like me, are in the latter category, and prefer songs crammed with intelligent, poetic and often deeply emotional lyrics, then you will, or at least should, be familiar with Noah Kahan’s music. 

Noah Kahan, on 19th June 2023, released a deluxe version of his third studio album, Stick Season (We’ll All Be Here Forever), which came out in 2022. This re-release of songs, with the addition of seven brand new tracks, has prompted a resurgence in its popularity. Kahan, who has referred to himself as both “Jewish Capaldi” and “Folk Malone”, rose to stratospheric and mainstream popularity only in 2023, with the title track of his recent album, “Stick Season”, earning huge popularity due to TikTok. A long overdue review of Kahan’s seminal album is what follows. 

The album is unified by the strain of memory which flows throughout; Kahan’s history of mental health struggles, childhood memories and his path to fame. The result is an album which reads as a letter of love, and hate, to his Canadian hometown in Vermont. The opening track, “Northern Attitude”, introduces the mood of Kahan’s writing for this album as autumnal, with “Stick Season” meaning a local term for “this really miserable time of year when it’s just kind of grey and cold, and there’s no snow yet and the beauty of the foliage is done” (Kahan, 2022, interview for Genius). A mood of bitterness also pervades, with the song containing nostalgic (and, at moments, negative) depictions of Kahan’s hometown and community: “Forgive my northern attitude, I was raised on little light.” The final track completes this bookending technique of framing the album whilst also retaining a sense of journey as we listen. “The View Between Villages – Extended” also contains passionate lyrics about Kahan’s hometown, with the deluxe version spinning the song in a particularly sentimental direction, as the song echoes out of earshot with spacious guitar and Kahan’s stunningly sustained vocals. These give the impression of driving in the stillness of the countryside around one’s home, elated by a feeling of freedom and acceptance. Throughout the song unknown voices of hometown locals pierce the soundscape, talking lovingly about the town where they spent their lives. One female voice notes, “For me personally, I found the town big enough for anything that I wanted.” This draws attention to generational differences between Kahan’s elderly community and the youth of Vermont who, like Kahan, seek something better outside its small community. It develops upon the idea presented in “You’re Gonna Go Far”, which is written from the perspective of a parent encouraging their child to embrace their dreams and not feel guilty for leaving home. The sense of parental self-sacrifice in lines such as “while I clean shit up in the yard, you’ll be far from here”, convey the powerful contrast in life experience between the rural farmers of New England and their ambitious children. Whilst the album begins in bitterness and a feeling of stagnancy, the ending of the album suggests a sense of growth and catharsis, which comes to a crescendo in the final track. The most refreshing aspect of Kahan’s album is that he has not underestimated the power of an album as an impactful body of work, rather than a collection of unrelated singles. Not only as a songwriter did Kahan find this unifying motif helpful when creating the album, but it also reminds the modern listener of minute attention span that, in a world of thirty second TikTok snippets and catchy choruses, to stick with an album for the full hour-and-a-half experience can be just as rewarding. 

The beauty of the album, in my opinion, also comes from the fusing of modern issues, modern metaphors and modern subjects, with natural, historical and emotional imagery and language. The “good land”, the “curve of the valley”, “hibernation” and a pervading autumnal mood fuse combine with the modern world, perhaps even standing for Kahan’s own feelings when returning from the busy world of fame into the agriculturally dominated lifestyle of his hometown. Folk music’s reputation of pinpointing the specific and relating it to the greater picture can be spotted here profoundly, with mentions of travel restrictions due to COVID (“Stick Season”) signifying a greater sense of entrapment. Additionally, orange juice (“Orange Juice”) at a party signals the strength to battle alcoholism, and dialogue within a voice message (“Dial Drunk”) communicates an inability to move on from a past relationship. This technique of specificity is a hallmark of folk music; one which often tells stories in relatable ways to engage a listener. Kahan is following in the footsteps, perhaps in a slightly more mainstream way, of another Jewish-Canadian folk singer, Leonard Cohen, who died in 2016. His influence, especially in the Canadian music tradition as a whole, is profound, and there can be no doubt about his lyrical influence over the artists who came after him pursuing a career in the folk genre. Noah Kahan has taken this baton proudly and continues to elate fans with every new single he releases. His tour, which comes to England in February, is widely popular and selling out fast. This artist is definitely one to watch.