Unpacking the Powerful Lyrics and Meaning of Noah Kahan’s Stick Season

Before Stick Season became a viral TikTok anthem or earned four-times platinum status in the US, it was just a half-written verse rattling around in Noah Kahan’s head during a period when the trees in Vermont lost all their leaves and so did he.

He uploaded the first verse and chorus in 2020, sitting in that familiar grey stretch between autumn and snowfall, and nearly deleted it after twenty minutes.

“I thought, no one’s watching this,” he admitted later. But then it started to blow up.

The post didn’t just go viral. It reshaped his trajectory. The track eventually became the title song of his third studio album, produced with Gabe Simon and released on 8 July 2022.

Noah Kahan Stick Season Album Cover 2022

It charted internationally, reaching No. 1 in the UK, Ireland, Australia, and the Netherlands, and climbing to No. 9 on the Billboard Hot 100 after Olivia Rodrigo covered it on BBC Radio 1.

But Stick Season isn’t a global hit because it aims for broad relatability.

It’s the opposite. Kahan wrote it “specifically about [his] home state of Vermont” and worried it might not connect with people outside New England.

The phrase itself refers to that in-between time when the trees are bare but snow hasn’t arrived.

For Kahan, that season became metaphor. For listeners, it became something they could project their own endings onto.

The song opens on a drive. “You must’ve had yourself a change of heart like halfway through the drive.” Her words trail off as the exit sign passes. And suddenly the future is off-course.

Kahan described how driving in New England means that one turn can take you to a different life. The car doesn’t just skip an exit. It skips a whole imagined life.

What unfolds next is a portrait of emotional inertia. When he sings “I am terrified of weather ’cause I see you when it rains,” he isn’t indulging in a romantic metaphor.

For him, even something as neutral as rain becomes unbearable. A reviewer on YouTube pointed out how word-packed the track is, calling it “as dense as a rap song” in its emotional layering.

Fans on Reddit echoed this, not just praising the lyricism but describing how the chorus “splits you in half” before you even realise it’s happening.

The hometown setting isn’t just backdrop either. “I love Vermont, but it’s the season of the sticks” sounds like longing and exile all at once.

He bumps into his ex’s mum at the supermarket. She doesn’t remember him.

Kahan later admitted he tries to include a “good mom exchange” where he can, but here it lands with a kind of quiet finality.

Small towns have a memory problem. The people who once shaped your days now barely recognise you. And you still see them buying avocados.

At the heart of the song is a deeper confession. “So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad, that I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from Dad.”

This isn’t some throwaway poetic flourish. Kahan has said the line comes from a very real place.

The depression in the song is passed down, not just personal. “We are everything that happened to our parents,” he explained.

It’s not about pushing through. It’s about realising success doesn’t cancel out sadness. It just covers it for a while.

The chorus repeats, slightly altered each time, reinforcing the loop Kahan finds himself in.

He drinks until his friends return for Christmas. He dreams about a version of his ex that might not have existed but still feels like a loss.

She becomes fragments. Tracks in the snow. A single pair of shoes. “I’m split in half, but that’ll have to do.”

And when he finally says, “I hope this pain’s just passing through, but I doubt it,” there’s no attempt to turn it into something redemptive.

No lesson. No metaphorical healing. It just sits there. One listener described this as the emotional thesis of the song.

Not the heartbreak, but the sense that even healing has been put on pause.

Kahan later drew a connection between heartbreak and Vermont’s brutal winters. Eventually spring returns. But the wait can feel endless.

Stick Season doesn’t resolve. That’s why it works. It circles memory, avoidance, guilt, and hope without trying to simplify any of them.

What starts as a breakup song becomes something closer to a record of emotional stillness.

Its specificity is what gives it range. Driving becomes emotional distance. Weather becomes memory. A mum’s silence becomes an erasure.

So maybe the real question isn’t what “Stick Season” means. Maybe it’s this: What version of yourself gets left behind when someone else decides not to turn?

Noah Kahan Stick Season Lyrics

Verse 1
As you promised me that I was more than all the miles combined
You must’ve had yourself a change of heart like halfway through the drive
Because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign
Kept on drivin’ straight and left our future to the right
Now I am stuck between my anger and the blame that I can’t face
And memories are somethin’ even smoking weed does not replace
And I am terrified of weather ’cause I see you when it rains
Doc told me to travel, but there’s Covid on the planes

Chorus
And I love Vermont, but it’s the season of the sticks
And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed
And it’s half my fault, but I just like to play the victim
I’ll drink alcohol ’til my friends come home for Christmas
And I’ll dream each night of some version of you
That I might not have, but I did not lose
Now you’re tire tracks and one pair of shoes
And I’m split in half, but that’ll have to do

Verse 2
So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad
That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from Dad
No, I am no longer funny ’cause I miss the way you laugh
You once called me “forever,” now you still can’t call me back

Bridge
Oh, that’ll have to do
My other half was you
I hope this pain’s just passin’ through
But I doubt it

Chorus
And I love Vermont, but it’s theseason of the sticks
And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed
And it’s half my fault, but I just like to play the victim
I’ll drink alcohol ’til my friends come home for Christmas
And I’ll dream each night of some version of you
That I might not have, but I did not lose
Now you’re tire tracks and one pair of shoes
And I’m split in half, but that’ll have to do
Have to do