Noah Kahan Returns to his Roots on “The Great Divide”
Nothing is exempt for Noah Kahan. His fatalistic obsession and New England upbringing bleed through his introspective storytelling about the certainty that everything, whether towns, versions of oneself or specific moments, are eventually going to end with time. Opening track “End of August” welcomes listeners to a humid, insect-humming dusk up North, where the final stretch of summer hangs low over tree lines and the air carries the quiet understanding that everything is about to turn. Kahan has built his voice around documenting what it means to live inside that shift.
Cover photo for Noah Kahan’s “The Great Divide”
The 29-year-old Grammy nominee, long fixated on growing up and getting out, broke through with 2022’s Stick Season, a defining release that cemented his diaristic, small-town storytelling. On his 4th studio album, The Great Divide, Kahan stays rooted in that same indie-folk soundscape, favoring familiarity over reinvention while sharpening his self-aware perspective. As a vocalist, Kahan has broken out of his shell and deepened his range, blending mournful hums with powerful belts and ethereal falsettos reminiscent of Justin Vernon and Sufjan Stevens.
From that opening dusk, The Great Divide slowly widens its scope, each track refining Kahan’s focus as he navigates through memory, regret and reconciling his past with the pressures of his present amid growing success. That intensity comes into full view on “Doors,” a faster-paced turning point driven by restrained percussion and a steady guitar hum as Kahan’s vocals swell from subdued to somewhat explosive.
While this release shows Kahan at his most folk, “American Cars” leans more pop without feeling too out of place. Its groovy production underscores the dissonance between small-town roots and a fast-paced life now defined by image and recognition. On “Downfall,” Kahan blurs the line between self-sabotage and the idea of collapse, hovering over whether he’s rooting for a former lover’s unraveling or his own under the pressure of success as a means of escapism.
Narrative-heavy “Paid Time Off” offers the record a breath of relief before diving into its first single and titular explosion. “The Great Divide” explores a fractured friendship, reckoning with the guilt that follows drifting from someone Kahan once shared a closeness with but failed to fully see. Regret settles in as he looks back and realizes all the signs he missed. “I heard nothing but the bass in every ballad that you’d play / While you swore to God the singer read your mind.” One of the album’s highest points, the track leans rock-ward with layered vocals, heavy drums and a powerful four-chord progression.
“Haircut” harbors intense bitterness toward someone whose return stirs up old wounds, even if that reappearance is warranted. “Willing and Able” reflects life in Kahan’s post-Stick Season reality, not only for him but for everyone around him. Its starry-eyed acoustic melody invites listeners into a hard-hitting ballad about the repercussions of leaving and what it means to be left. Sung from the perspective of Kahan’s mother, “Porch Light” captures the ache of awaiting her son’s return, as she admits, “And I’ll pray for you, be in pain for you / I’ll leave the porch light on.”
Catchy folk-rock anthem “Deny Deny Deny” pairs a surprisingly bright melody with a melancholic story of toxicity and blame. The sounds of New England summer bugs return near the album’s end on “Headed North,” a stripped-back townie anthem built around two guitar solos as the singer seems to report back to someone who has moved on and away.
Kahan’s introspective nature shines bright on “Spoiled,” speaking to the fleeting nature of the very career he has sacrificed to succeed in, and his penultimate track, “All Them Horses.” Kahan’s admiration for where he grew up is woven into every song, while the realities of success and touring alter that bond in ways that make returning feel more complicated than ever. Closing track “Dan” fully realizes the album’s cover art as Kahan closes this chapter on an ode to a friend who holds a significant place in both the project’s story and his own life.
Spanning 77 minutes, The Great Divide demonstrates deep emotional range through recurring reflection. Its repetitions occasionally flatten the album, but they also sharpen its central points, reinforcing the discomfort at the heart of Kahan’s writing. It doesn’t offer much closure but rather leaves listeners with the clarity of having seen something too blatant to ignore. Overall, The Great Divide proves that refinement doesn’t require reinvention and that its power lies in what it reveals and how closely people are willing to look.
