Noah Kahan performs at Rogers Stadium.Steph Montani/Provided
I’m not a fan of Noah Kahan. The Vermont-raised folk-pop artist specializes in expressing lyrically detailed vulnerabilities set to simple chord changes and melodies for the masses. He is a formally exalted public brooder.
But if you believe that pop music’s artistic value is measured simply by whether people like it, Kayhan may be immune to criticism. Indeed, the 50,000 mostly female fans who gathered at Toronto’s Rogers Stadium on Sunday liked his music, judging by the chorus of sharp voices singing along to his emotional storytelling.
Early on he asked if the crowd was ready to be miserable with him. He then noticed that the weather was nice, but promised it would be a “sad night” with rain. Misery loves company and Kahan is open for business.
The stage scenery was rural. First, in a farmhouse, he emerges through a screen door to sing the corn-eating, banjo-playing American Cars folk-rock song from his fourth and most recent album, The Great Divide. This is a family drama. “Honey, we are fragile, you were always so tough, you know I missed you, you always come running back.”
Backed by a six-piece band, the 29-year-old artist wore a frayed shirt, patched jeans, a beard and long hair tied into pigtails. It’s sturdy, but fragile. Kayhan has given himself nicknames in the past, even if he doesn’t realize it. Two of them are “Gloomy Keanu Reeves” and “Jewish Capaldi” (a nod to the similarities between his music and Scottish singer-songwriter Lewis Capaldi).
His career skyrocketed in 2023 when Olivia Rodrigo’s acoustic cover of his song “Stick Season” went viral.
Hearing Kahan’s heartfelt music, you’d believe someone who says he grew up on the Wallflowers and Counting Crows. The upsweeping use of mandolin, fiddle, and influential harmonics suggests an admiration for the West London folk scene of the 2010s. In a nutshell, Kahan runs a dime store, Mumford & Sons.
He cursed a lot when speaking to the audience. I couldn’t seem to string two or more sentences together without using an expletive that was also used in the lyrics. His attempt at humorous banter is scatological and stems from a recent incident at a Philadelphia concert in which a fan defecated in the audience.
During the concert, the stage background changed, focusing on a gas station here and a general store there. I could see telephone poles, streetlights, and old public telephones. Kayhan apparently sang “Dial Drunk” from the back of a police car. Due to his will and ability, he went to the roof.
Excitement reached its climax when Keihan carried his acoustic guitar to the second stage, which jutted out into the audience. Rather than living in the moment, the crying young women captured the moment with their cell phone cameras. A man in the crowd asked a woman to marry him. Kahan sensed this and made them both promise not to divorce.
A three-piece horn section brought in for the encore set gave the music a vitality and vibrancy that it otherwise lacked.
In a recent article in The Atlantic, Tyler Austin Harper wrote that Miller Lite is a bad beer, but a great drink. “It’s not complex or aggressive, it derives its magic from this alchemy of blandness, this delicate balance of bubbling nothingness.”
The same can be said about Keihan’s music. It’s not the evocative lyrics or proper singing, but the sound that conveys the words. It’s bad music, but I really enjoyed listening to it. Mr. Kahan promised a sad night that he had no intention of delivering.
Fans filled the stadium all night long, often serenading us with beautiful facial expressions. They could just as easily have been riding together in a beat-up car with Kahan’s radio blaring loudly. What can you say? Some music sounds cleaner and easier than others.
Noah Kahan performs at Vancouver’s BC Place on August 28th.
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