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juneontheeastcoast · 3 months

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Why I Like Noah Kahan

When I first started hearing ‘Stick Season’ in bits and pieces on the internet, I sort of hated it. It had lyrics that would certainly feel dated in a few years, i.e. “There’s COVID on the planes” (Also, what sort of therapist recommends such shallow advice as “You should travel”?). Another which was just juvenile, and delivered in such a way where it’s as if it’s meant to seem shockingly self destructive: “I’ll drink ALCOHOL ’til my friends come home for Christmas”. I knew little about Noah Kahan, other than that he was popular among my ninth grade students, and that as a mentally ill New Englander, I should really like him.

I thought that single was a bit shallow, but as ‘Dial Drunk’ started to circulate, I was more interested. Sure, it was not autobiographical, but the fact that people thought it could be intrigued me. He didn’t have a gritty persona by any means and yet teenagers on TikTok were fully convinced that he’d been arrested for drunk driving. The song did appear to come from a familiar feeling, if not a true story, which cannot be said for a majority of boring indie folk anthems. It’s a genre I’ve largely abandoned, but adored at the height of its popularity when I was in high school. Unlike the other songs in this genre, it was immensely self-deprecating and about a subject which verges on taboo.

Often, I am extremely skeptical of celebrities who are praised for talking about mental health. “Mental health” in popular media often refers to a low-stakes set of topics that won’t get anyone in trouble: self-care, 5 minute guided meditations, drinking a lot of water, maximizing your weekends to avoid burnout while remaining productive. These are positive steps to take, but celebrities are so frequently praised for talking about “mental health” when they are really talking about self help. We are societally comfortable with talking about mental health, but not mental illness. It may seem like we’ve made a lot of progress, but as a person living with serious mental illness, I can assure you we have not.

Back to Noah Kahan- The last song I heard casually before doing some research was ‘Orange Juice’, which is unequivocally beautiful. Having many sober friends and having written at length about the topic, the song struck me as extremely empathetic, both to the sober character and to the narrator wrestling with their friend’s new life. The production is certainly radio-friendly, but it isn’t a topic I’ve heard in many pop songs.

Noah Kahan spent the start of his musical career making soulless pop, with a couple gems hidden in there (I could write a separate essay on how much I love ‘Howling’). He pivoted to folk before writing Stick Season, drawing on the music he loved in his childhood and the place he grew up- Strafford, Vermont. This is where I changed my mind about his very of-the-moment songwriting. Big folk artists often aim to imitate a bygone era, wearing vests and bowler hats and playing antiquated instruments like little Civil War reenactors. Meanwhile, here comes Noah in his Patagonia jacket, singing about the life he’s actually living, for the first time in his career. He is extremely approachable but also extremely sincere.

With songwriters praised for their confessional style, I like to read about them before I listen. Separate the art from the artist when you have to, but I’m sure I’m not alone in valuing the background of an emotional song. Take ‘Carrie & Lowell’, ‘The Sunset Tree’, ‘A Crow Looked at Me’- aren’t you glad you know the story?

What I found in regard to ‘Stick Season’ was an impressive catalog of interviews in which Noah candidly discussed his experience with depression, detailing the medications he’s tried, the challenges of finding treatment in rural America, his parents’ attitude toward the subject, his first memories of dissociation as a child. When he sings, “I’m still out here/with the pills and the dogs” on an anthemic, romantic song, he isn’t a celebrity making a relatable statement- he’s speaking from experience.

I think his songs are melodic and accessible, but what makes me a devoted listener is the way he speaks about mental illness. I come from the world of midwest emo, where an artist’s feelings are explosive and intense. That is incredible. But there is room for people like Noah Kahan, essentially saying, that, yes, they are accessible and easy to love, but yes, they are mentally ill.

I know I’m not alone when I talk about feeling like an alien, like I live outside of the regular world, because even when “mental health” becomes an approachable topic, my depression remains uncomfortable for the general public. I am so happy to listen to some extremely catchy pop songs and remember that my feelings don’t have to fit into a niche.

I cry easily, I write personal songs and listen to personal music. But I have never cried at a show the way I cried seeing Noah Kahan. My mom and I stood in the back of the stadium, she loves folk and I love honest songwriters. As Noah sang, in awe of his fame, addressing the largest crowd he’d ever played to, my mom sang along to the songs she thinks are pretty, and I celebrated that these songs I relate to can touch so many people, regardless of the reason.

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juneontheeastcoast · 5 years

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hi tumblr it’s been a long time! I’m here to tell you that I am going to four (4) conor oberst shows this summer. are any of you going? is anyone still on this website or is this a ghost town?

#conor oberst #bright eyes

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juneontheeastcoast · 5 years

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morrissey angst: i hate myself so much that i’ll die

the cure angst: i love you so much that i’ll die

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juneontheeastcoast · 6 years

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#my feelings are too big for my body right now #what do?????#sidney gish #music

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juneontheeastcoast · 6 years