3:02
Stick Season, 2022
Written by Noah Kahan
There are over 1.7 billion plays on Spotify for this track, but I'm only vaguely familiar with it; it was my teenage stepdaughter that introduced it to me. The title refers to a regionalism for late fall, the time after Halloween and before snow starts and the trees look like bare sticks stretching into a grey sky. It's an introspective, plaintive cri de coeur over masterful acoustic guitar. It disguises its melancholy behind an almost cheerful folk-pop bounce. With a slightly frayed, high-register voice, Kahan delivers lines that feel conversational rather than poetic ("You must've had yourself a change of heart like halfway through the drive / Because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign / Kept on drivin' straight and left our future to the right") yet the imagery lands with precision. Kahan sings about small-town roads, awkward run-ins with an ex's family ("I saw your mom, but she forgot that I existed"), and the peculiar loneliness of staying behind while everyone else seems to move on. The details are hyperlocal, yet the feeling is universal.
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