Let’s All Move To Vermont
“Strafford, it still has a lot of meaning to me / Because I grew up there / Well, I guess it's a small- A small community of, uh, people that really look out for each other / And that's the same way with anybody that needs anything / This— this community is there to help.”
That excerpt was from Noah Kahan’s, The View Between Villages (Extended Cut). This song, featured on his newest album, is about returning home to his small town in Orange County, Vermont. It surprised me that I loved Noah Kahan’s music so much - folk music had never been my style. But the way he brings his listeners to that town with each song, I think, makes many of us romanticize it. I grew up in a suburb outside Toronto. The houses that lined my street were inhabited by elderly people and my high school was full of small-town drama. I was constantly bored, and so was everyone else. Interestingly, however, Noah Kahan’s music made me yearn for a town even smaller, and a life even slower.
All of his music tells a story; Orange Juice is about a loved one coming back, Strawberry Wine is about a past love, You’re Gonna Go Far is about a girl who leaves her town for something bigger. His retelling of events is honest, direct, and incredibly emotional. The beauty in his music, like the beauty in small towns, is found in its simplicity. His songs don’t contain convoluted metaphors or complicated symbolism meant for dissection. They’re perfect for the times you don’t want to think about the music you’re listening to, but instead just feel it.
In my opinion, his lyrical strength lies in imagery. My measure of music is what I see while playing the songs. Noah Kahan, to me, is the colour green, warm winters, and red rusted pickup trucks. Moreover, I love how he ties the imagery to personal experience. Lyrics like “Love is fast asleep on a dirt road with your head on my shoulder” or “when they mention the sad kid in a sad house on Balch Street / You won’t have to guess who they’re speaking about” are what speak to me - taking powerful feelings, but giving the listeners a visual detail, an intimate insight into his life. And its references like these to his town that actually transport us there. We love it and miss it and hate it, but mainly we want to experience it for ourselves.
One night, after my roommate and I illegally dropped our trash in a public school dumpster, we went on a drive. We laughed about the ridiculousness of what we just did and told stories about other stupid nights filled with delinquency. Noah Kahan was playing in the background. And when I spent time journaling at my aunt’s house in Collingwood last summer, I played She Calls Me Back while the rain ran down the giant tree leaves outside. To anyone, these incidents are unrelated, with nothing in common, but to me, they’re experiences of youth; simple moments that make me acknowledge how much life I have left to experience. Noah Kahan’s music is peaceful, but also capable of inflicting intense emotion. I feel like it fits perfectly with the bittersweet chaos that is youth.
In Growing Sideways, he sings that it’s “better to die numb than feel it all”. I think that’s pretty ironic, considering his music makes people feel so deeply.
Edited by Kris Sanchez