Covering Stick Season by Noah Kahan

When I first heard Noah Kahan's 'Stick Season,' it just instantly clicked with me. There's something so raw and honest in his songwriting that makes you feel seen, especially when you're navigating those tricky, in-between phases of life. I was so moved by it that I just had to create my own acoustic cover, trying to capture all that emotion. But beyond just playing the notes, I found myself really diving deep into what the song means. One of the most striking phrases, and something I think many of us wonder about, is the 'season of the sticks.' What does that even mean? For me, and from what I've gathered, it vividly describes that bleak period in late autumn or early spring in places like Vermont, where all the leaves have fallen, and the ground is frozen but not yet covered in snow. It’s not winter, it's not spring – it's just bare branches, cold grey skies, and a feeling of being stuck in limbo. It perfectly mirrors the emotional state of the song's narrator, a feeling of being in a transitional, often lonely, and melancholic place. As the lyrics captured in the image say, 'And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks,' highlighting that even in a place you love, there can be periods of profound emptiness. The lyrics themselves are a masterclass in vulnerability. Lines like 'Saw your mom, she forgot that I existed' really hit home, describing the pain of fading from someone's memory, or the slow, quiet ending of a past connection. It speaks to a universal feeling of loss, even when you haven't technically 'lost' someone. And then there's the incredibly relatable admission, 'Half my fault, but I just like to play the victim.' This self-awareness, the struggle between taking responsibility and succumbing to self-pity, is something I think we all grapple with. It's that honest portrayal of human imperfection that makes Kahan's music so powerful. The longing for connection is palpable, especially in lines like 'I'll drink till my friends come home for Christmas.' It paints a picture of isolation, waiting for familiar faces and comfort during a time that's supposed to be joyous but feels anything but. And that aching nostalgia for what might have been? 'Dream each night of some version of you that I might not have, but I did not lose.' It’s about holding onto a memory, a potential, that never quite materialized, a unique kind of grief for an unlived future. The imagery of 'tired tracks and one pair of shoes and I'm split in half' beautifully conveys exhaustion, indecision, and the feeling of being pulled in different directions, utterly overwhelmed by life's complexities. 'But that'll have to do' is the resigned acceptance that we sometimes have to just keep going, even when we feel broken. Noah Kahan has truly carved out a niche for himself by articulating these deeply personal yet widely felt emotions. His ability to blend folk storytelling with raw, confessional lyrics, often accompanied by just an acoustic guitar, creates an intimate listening experience. When I perform an acoustic cover, my goal is always to honor that intimacy. It's not just about hitting the right notes; it's about conveying the story, letting the emotion of each word shine through. For anyone looking to cover this song, I'd suggest really sitting with the lyrics. Understand the 'stick season' feeling, and let that guide your delivery, whether it's through your vocal dynamics or the subtle strumming of your guitar. It's about feeling the 'split in half' and letting that vulnerability resonate. Ultimately, 'Stick Season' is more than just a song; it's an anthem for anyone feeling a little lost, a little lonely, and a little unsure of where they belong. It’s a reminder that those 'season of the sticks' moments are part of life, and sometimes, all we can do is feel them deeply and know we're not alone.