Written by Davis McClure
KXUA has made the mistake of allowing me to review Mr. Kahan’t-write-a-bad-song’s newest album, The Great Divide: The Last Of The Bugs . If you’ve seen me sporting Kahan’s merch around campus, it’s no secret I’m a huge fan of his work. So bear with me while I try to remain objective throughout this!
On this album, Kahan explores the quiet aftermath of growing apart. The regret, emotional distance, and miscommunication that surrounds loss. The damage caused in pursuit of avoiding conflict, and the various sides to every story.
The Great Divide settles into the idea behind the saying “everywhere you go, there you are”. After leaving Nashville and returning to Vermont, Kahan found that you can change your surroundings, but you can’t outrun your past.
This idea is established in the album’s title track, The Great Divide. Serving as the first single to Noah’s fourth studio album, the track functions as an emotional center for the project. “We got cigarette burns in the same side of our hands, we ain’t friends. We’re just morons, who broke skin in the same spot.”
Despite the shared trauma between Kahan and his friend, he rejects the idea that it links them. Their shared trauma doesn’t mean that they know each other any better.
“You know I think about you all the time, and my deep misunderstanding of your life. And how bad it must have been for you back then, and how hard it was to keep it all inside.” Kahan reflects on the regret of not recognizing those signs sooner.
“I hope you settle down, I hope you marry rich, I hope you’re scared of only ordinary shit, like murderers and ghosts and cancer on your skin. and not your soul and what He might do with it.”
He hopes his friend is in a better spot than when he knew him.
This song can be interpreted many ways. For those who’ve experienced religious trauma, this chorus can serve as a message to your younger self. The capitalization of “He” alludes to the idea that his friend turned to religion to cope with his trauma.
This Holy Spirit sized buffer isn’t new, and has been explored in Kahan’s earlier work. On “Orange Juice”, Kahan sings, “Now I’m third in the line up to your Lord and your Savior.”
This friendship, and the loss of it has taken a toll on the singer.
“I heard nothing but the bass in every ballad that you’d play, while you swore to God the singer read your mind.”.
The contrast between “the bass” and “the ballad” highlights his surface-level understanding of something much deeper.
In the outro, Kahan sings “I hope you threw a brick right into that stained glass. I hope you’re with someone who isn’t scared to ask. I hope that you’re not losing sleep about what’s next. Or about your soul and what He might do with it.”
These lines suggest that he hopes his friend gives up religion, as it’s the major barrier preventing their friendship rekindling. Existential dread about the transcendental takes a significant toll on a person, and through The Great Divide, Kahan wishes his friend more sensible worries.
Released as the second single, Porch Light dives into the impact Kahan’s fame has had on his relationships.
In Porch Light, Kahan writes from the perspective of his mom, Lauri Kahan, capturing a mother missing her son. Whether you have a famous son on a five-leg world tour, or you’re an empty nester; this song will resonate. This song shows the effects of confessional song writing. Noah’s breakthrough album, “Stick Season”, was heavily autobiographical and aired out a lot of his family’s dirty laundry.
“I would ask you how you’ve been, it’s all over the internet”
His mom is resentful of how he data dumped the family lore to millions of listeners.
“If you’re looking for an autopsy or a half-assed half-apology, then I think you picked the wrong time to make this call.”
When calling his mom, Kahan “slips into some eloquently ramblin’ mixed-messaging” and brings up the past, which she is not in the mood to dissect.
“I hope you tell me that you’re winding down, that you lost the taste to face the crowd. That whatеver made you famous made you sick.” His mom just wants her son to be okay, even if that means losing his ‘famous title’.
“You can only do what pain allows, It ain’t up to you to make it out. And there ain’t no shame in callin’ this thing quits. But you don’t.” Despite struggling mentally, he doesn’t give up on his career. Kahan’s spiraling mental health decline paired with an exponential rise in fame leads him to become a ghost to those he loves. Not only is he ghosting them, he’s haunting their everyday lives. “I try to drown out all the talk, the eyeballs in the parking lot, and tell people it ain’t me you want, but I guess you’re my fault.” Bringing it back to his small town in Vermont, the results of him building glass walls around their family is portrayed.
“You’re poison spreading to my lungs, I ain’t holdin’ breath, ain’t holdin’ any faith at all. And I’ll pray for you, be in pain for you, I’ll leave the porch light on. Heartbroken, each morning when it’s me that turns it off.” She won’t wait for him anymore, since he hasn’t been home in a while. But still, she leaves the porch light on, leaving an open invitation home.
End of August – This song takes a different approach to the ‘season of the sticks’. It represents the impending doom that creeps in before winter for the seasonal depression that comes with it. Set in a car ride with his brothers, the song opens with a piano solo surrounded by crickets chirping in the background, symbolizing that this car ride is one taking place in late summer. “All the neighbors are votin’ for someone who wins every time,” Noah sets the small-town melancholic scene, bringing us back to his home state of Vermont and the previous themes of his older work.
“Oh, everythin’ you see out here will die, it’s a matter of time, ‘Til it’s fields of ice and reflector lights, ‘Til it’s our town.” These lyrics show the emotional toll that environmental change has, especially for those with Seasonal Affective Disorder.
Doors dives into Kahan’s fear of abandonment and reflects on his upbringing’s effect on his relationships.
“I was born into a one-hundred-year storm, foot of ice across Vermont, and in that dark and in that frost, a heart was formed. Malcontented and unwarm.”
Kahan uses the fact that he was born during a harsh winter as a way to foreshadow his childhood. “So forgive me if I jump at the rattle of your keys,” “Oh, are you leavin’?” ” No, babe, I’m just wakin’ up.”
This song juxtaposes emotional unavailability and a fear of abandonment, creating an impossible situation for his partner.
“I keep showin’ you doors, but you can’t open them up.’Cause it gеts harder to see me the closer you try to look.”
Despite wanting his partner to know him, he’s scared to let anyone in.
“You’re puttin’ money on red, I’m a sure bet at a losin’ streak.”
In the game of roulette, there’s a 50/50 chance to land on either red or black. He stresses that knowing him is a risk, and not one someone should take, as all he has known himself to be is a disappointment.
In the end, it lands on avoidance as self-protection: “I just live here babe you’re the one who decided to knock.” Shifting accountability from himself to his partner for simply wanting to know him.
In American Cars, the song is seemingly written from the perspective of his sibling.
“Headlights, your plates, 4CB3A, didn’t know you drove American cars. Ray-Bans on your face, you’ve been drivin’ all day, but you’re here and we’re so grateful you are.”
Since his rise to stardom, Kahan left Vermont and came back a slightly different person; one who wears Ray-bans.
“You’re gonna fix it, you’re gonna patch it up, ‘Cause, honey, we’re fragile, you’ve always been so tough.”
As explored in his new Netflix documentary “Noah Kahan : Out Of Body”, Kahan’s family dynamic is far from perfect. Upon returning, he finds that this hasn’t changed.
“And I hate to drag you back here, but I think he’s really lost it, he’s been sittin’ on the porch, oh, ranting like a prophet”. Presumably talking about their father, Kahan is expected to fix everything with his newfound identity and financial status.
“Make him talk, make it stop, all I want is a dialogue. oh, we’re drownin’ here, I’ve gotta stay for Mom. Make the house a home, you know how to talk. Well, you did back then, we would talk so much. And it’s fine we don’t, but can you come home?”
The bridge of this song is distorted and echo-ey. Making this section sound like his sibling is screaming at the sky begging him to move back.
On Downfall, Kahan explores the emotions of missing someone before they have even left, sending someone off but hoping that the road leads back home.
“So call me when it goes to shit, I’ll be keepin’ the house the way it was. I don’t mind being your dead end, I think it’s fine to never move on.” This resentment is reminiscent of his mother’s in Porch Light, so this might be another song from her, or another family member’s perspective.
Keep my ear up to the doorframe, and I’ll keep rootin’ for your downfall. With Justin Vernon on backup vocals, Kahan creates a haunting and catchy melody. One that rings in the head of the one who’s leaving.
In Lighthouse, the tempo drops significantly. It displays the raw emotions when missing someone. Continuing the Porch Light theme, the singer uses a lighthouse to keep a light on. “I curse ’em all out, when they f*** up your story. I tell it the way that you told me.” It’s the feeling of looking back at someone that has left and despite moving on, keeping their story tight to the chest.
“You were born with a face made for a “Missing” sign, but you had something misplaced that you’d spend your life tryna find”
If this is directed at Kahan, it makes the suggestion that his search for a career in music is what drove him out of Vermont.
Singing of internal warfare, Paid Time Off starts slow and depressing. It allows the listener to get a grasp on his headspace. “I’m alone, gettin’ lost in the scope of it, then I see you drive in”
As soon as he ‘sees’ his love, the song picks up tempo and goes from crying on the floor to running towards someone. Despite a sweet nod to this relationship, the lyrics make it clear that this relationship is toxic. “Your love is like an open flame, I’m a runnin’ car, and you’re a closed garage.” Despite their connection feeling warm and familiar, it’s suffocating.
“I had the brains for a city job, but you got the taste of a county cop. Someone once said there’s a world out there, but we don’t care enough to drive that far.”
Suggests that the subject of this song traded their goals for the sake of their relationship, and is now left stagnant, trying to make do with what they have.
Staying Still captures the dread of saying goodbye. This track displays the difficulties of always being on the move. From state to state on tour, Kahan isn’t good at staying in one spot. “You could punch me in the gut, and it wouldn’t hurt like watchin’ you grow smaller on
the backroad.”
This line seemingly takes on his wife’s perspective, having someone who “I try to keep on starting over, I’m sleepin’ in a bed half empty, daydreamin’. All love must leave, oh, but search for it I will.”
It’s hard to maintain connections while you’re constantly between them.
The song grows deeper into desperation, grasping at the straws of their relationship. “I’m racking my brain for the one line that would change your mind, showin’ you plane crashes online, couldn’t hurt to try.”
In Haircut, Kahan captures the conviction he feels for becoming a household name while rarely visiting his own.
“You grew your hair out long, now you think you’re Jesus Christ. There ain’t nobody mistakin’ your guilt for some great sacrifice. You ain’t a goddamn hero now ’cause you cry on live TV.”
The singer wrestles with himself and his new identity. There is a cohesive pattern of resentment from his family throughout this record.
The bridge sets the scene for his homecoming, where his family isn’t interested in inspiring any new songs.
“You walked into a haunted house and got angry at the ghosts. Spare us all the pity, love, save it for the microphone.”
Willing and able waves a white flag at his sibling. It’s an open invitation to talk about the past and settle the unspoken.
“We can fight like we used to fight, Bony-limbed, red-faced, and teary-eyed. Under the glow of the TV light, I’d be willing and able.”
Kahan mixes nostalgic imagery with descriptors like “bony limbed” to show they’ve known each other since they were kids.
Through the bridge, Kahan yearns for what he can’t change or have back. “I wish you could know me, and I wish I could know you much more sometimes. Wish I could do nothin’ with you, Sit in the yard while the day dies.”
Even the mundane looks superb in the rearview. Growing up next to someone means having a similar blueprint. In between this common ground though, there lives a great divide.
Dashboard takes on the perspective of those left behind. In the track “You’re Gonna Go Far” off Stick Season, Kahan encourages people to leave home and hit the road. But here, he calls you an asshole.
“Look at you go, crossin’ state lines with your shadow, tryna run away, change your zip code, turns out that you’re still an asshole.”
23 is about trying to preserve the versions we create of people in our heads. “’Cause if I never see you again, you could be anything I want.”
On the Kelleigh Bannen Show on Apple Music, Kahan said this song is “based on a lot of friendships I have with people who have family members who are struggling with addiction or who have siblings who they can’t connect to. It’s that feeling of ‘I want you back, but I don’t want this version of you back’”.
One of the two clean tracks, Deny Deny Deny, shows the imbalance now that Kahan has the resources to help out. Despite being able to buy their houses, his family won’t talk about the past.
“I’ll get your house paid off so the Feds can’t touch it, another thing we don’t talk about anymore. Don’t worry, I won’t bring it up.”
The verses call out the singer for using money as a way to bypass confrontation. “You said you got a guilty conscience, but I ain’t ever seen it, and I’m well-prepared to never meet him.”
Fair warning: The chorus is so infectious and will be stuck in your head all day.
Headed North provides a stripped back, voice memo palate cleanser that makes you feel like you’re rotating chairs around a campfire to avoid the smoke. In the demo nature, it contains some pretty unhinged (but amazing) lyrics such as “If I see one more Cybertruck, I swear to God, I’m gonna floor it.”
We Go Way Back reflects on what he has missed due to being on tour. He makes it clear that his love for his wife will forever hold more value than his career.
Kahan has expressed that he faced severe writer’s block and pressure to follow his breakthrough album.
“Tell me I don’t need options, that I have substance, that I’m important. If it’s only for lettin’ dogs out, sweepin’ porches.”
All that’s stayed constant is his love for his wife, making ever changing fame look less appealing. “I don’t need my name back, throw my notebook in the basement. Oh, I love you and I can’t fake that for a moment.”
Spoiled is a complete 180 from wanting to quit music in We Go Way Back. He states his reason for choosing fame.
“So my children get spoiled when they get old. So they can f*** up all they want and blame it all on their dad.”
Still healing from his childhood trauma, Kahan hopes to provide a better life for his future kids.
“Gonna be rich, in our own way, I swear you’re gonna get it, kid. Someday.”
All Them Horses gives survivors guilt a track duration.
“See the dried flood lines on the neighbors’ porches. Do you remember cryin’ for all them horses? They did not look scared at all.”
Reflecting on the major Vermont floods from 2023. “I wanna beat it, wanna beat it bad, everyone looks happy in a photograph. I’ve crossed the county line, I cannot go back, I’m always on my own.”
It Expresses his feelings of isolation despite being surrounded by people constantly.
A Few Of Your Own passes the torch of the ‘Vermont-man’ storyteller to the next generation. “Wish me well, tell the stories I would tell, go ahead, make a few of your own.” Once again, he addresses his fear of abandonment.
“I grew up with a feelin’ that what’s good must be fleetin’, that if I’m happy, I’m dreamin’, then I’m prepared for you leavin’.
Orbiter was first teased years ago. Since then, I’ve played the youtube teaser almost weekly.
“I look exhausted, stiff and awkward on the outside of the moment. It’s not my first time bitter drunk on a red carpet. Or my first time losing, and it won’t be my last.”
Kahan opens up about his insecurities and about losing at the Grammys, with two nominations earned so far. “Some will never know they’re beautiful, until the crowd points it out for them.”
“You said, “Ignore it, California is so much more than some awards show.” Kahan feels as though LA is not where he belongs. It showcases his imposter syndrome. “This ain’t Watertown, I’m on alien ground, I’m a collеge kid with my windows down. I’m an astronaut, you’re the Moon.”
He thinks back on simpler times as a kid and relies on this relationship to keep him grounded.
On the closing track Dan, listeners are taken to a camping trip on the county line with his best friend. He questions the afterlife, curses his fame, and talks about death.
“You tried to tell me how unfair it is, that I have what I have and you got what you got. Said I’d give it all back if I could, I cannot.”
He opens up about his guilt for dedicating a song to his friend Carlo. “I think I stood right here back when Carlo died. Said I hated the way I made it all about me.”
Despite not having the answers, the singer is at peace with where he’s at.
“Where do we go when we die? I wouldn’t mind right here, I wouldn’t mind at all.” Dan is believed to be one of the boys on the album cover, hinting at the idea that some of these songs are about their friendship.
Rating: 9.9/10
Current Favorites: Orbiter, All Them Horses, Willing And Able