I don't fucking know, man. Should we talk about TikTok? Seems like a dead-end topic, one that is going to just make me seem old. I probably have already covered this ground anyway. Old man yelling at cloud over here. It's just that, like, the whole idea of songs and albums and artists becoming popular because a clip of a song was used in multiple viral videos just seems so fucking puerile to me. It feels like a misrepresentation of an art form that I for whatever reason feel compelled to protect. It would be one thing if there were millions of kids listening to fifteen seconds of "Stick Season" and then going to their streaming service of choice and exploring the entire namesake album of that song and using it as a jumping-off point for discovery. As far as I can tell, that's not how it goes; there's your fifteen second, and then we've moved on—throwaway culture. Fuck, I don't even know if this is what happened with Noah Kahan. I haven't watched any TikTok videos to build my case. I just can't do it. The interview that was linked to this past Sunday starts with the question "I read somewhere that you are from New England," which really says a lot about the fucking stupid ass interviewer, and makes me think that this dumdum really did only listen to fifteen seconds of the extremely New England-y Stick Season before sitting down for the interview.
So then it turns into me being unfair to the artist, like, yo, it wasn't this fucking guy's fault that this is how the music industry works now, that music execs are throwing money at whatever jabroni happens to make a song that teenagers are making up choreographed dances to. If I'm being honest, it turns me off enough that it affects my opinion of the music, but I'm acknowledging right here and now that I don't blame Noah Kahan for that. It's my problem, and the internet's problem, but not his. I think it probably has something to do with, like, who "deserves my attention," which is an absolutely terrible and egotistical way of framing it, but there ya go—why should I waste my time on some dude whose art seems to be more fit for people who are way younger than me and listen to music in a way that's incomprehensible to me?
But it's Record Club, and I'm spending a week entrenched with the album no matter what insane unnecessary personal baggage I'm bring to it, and so of course there is some measure of flattening out and maybe even occasionally some Stockholm syndrome. At a certain point, I'm forgetting about the social transgression that is TikTok and just sinking into some catchy folk music. Sometimes I miss the miserable asshole I used to be when it comes to music. It would be easier to hate this thing just on principle. It gets more complicated when the songs are mostly competent and occasionally fun.
Derivative, too, of course, but what the fuck does that even mean? Describing something as "derivative" is just a way for music snobs like me to impress upon you that "I know a band that did it first." If you've never seen a viral TikTok video featuring a bikini-clad sixteen-year-old girl dancing in front of her phone to a fifteen-second clip of a Langhorne Slim song (good), or a Mumford and Sons song (bad), or a Local Natives song (probably), or a Bon Iver song (definitely), then this is all gonna seem brand fucking new to you. And I think that's great. You gotta start somewhere. You bet your ass I thought Sum 41 were making a novel sound when I was a teenager. But ya know what? I eventually listened to blink-182 and Judas Priest, and eventually I realized that they were just combining those two sounds that already existed and were already popular. Derivative? Hell fucking yeah. Doesn't mean I don't still like Sum 41.
Here's the rub, though—are people listening to Noah Kahan on TikTok and then using the joy they felt listening to Stick Season as a springboard to exploring all his very obvious influences? It doesn't seem like it, which is a problem for me, though I can't articulate why without sounding like an insufferable blowhard. I'm not even blaming the kids for letting the algorithm give them bite-sized portions of curated, generic music that they can then either dispose of or place on one large ongoing playlist of any song that "vibed" with the listener when the algorithm deemed them the appropriate target for this particular sound. This is a symptom of the dystopian music scene that capitalism has built for them.
If the algorithm truly did know me and know what song would be the right fit for how I'm feeling right now (instead of doing what it usually does and just recommend a different song from the same artists that are already on the goddamn playlist), then it would probably play me "Orange Juice." I like most of the songs on Stick Season well enough, but "Orange Juice" was the only one that I felt any strong emotion toward. The reason why has really nothing to do with the subjective quality of this album and has everything to do with me and my own insecurities and flaws. I think the best way to put it is that this song gives voice to everything I fear in my friends' reactions to my sobriety (and the line about it being "six months on the dot" is frighteningly close to where I'm at right now). The narrator (maybe Kahan, maybe not) feels uncomfortable around his newly sober friend, and isn't sure how to talk to the friend about his sobriety. The friend doesn't even get invited to a party until the very end, and when he does show up, Kahan thinks he's helping by offering fucking orange juice, a terrible drink that he points out was specifically bought for children, which reads as insulting to me. Plus, there's the implication by Kahan that sobriety needs to be the direct result of some type of trauma, though I guess "having too much and generally being tired of it" might not be as exciting as the topic of a song. There's just too much wondering about what this sober dude is thinking on the narrator's part. It's like, dude, just talk to him if you have questions. Asking questions and wanting clarification and being upfront about it isn't going to drive anyone back toward alcohol. It's actually kinda helpful to be not weird about it. Offering someone orange juice is being weird about it.
This is all totally my problem and my problem alone. Clearly, I'm working through some shit right now. I'm not, like, calling someone out in this review. I know from experience that it's fucking uncomfortable when one of your good pals goes sober. And to a certain extent, I'm just taking my frustrations out on Noah Kahan. What would the TikTok crowd call it? "Catching strays," right? Something like that. FUCK, I hate Tiktok. But let's say something nice about "Orange Juice." I think that a general discourse that surrounds a friend getting sober is that your social interactions have to change by necessity, and there's a certain sense of mourning that you can't go back to how it used to be, when y'all would have so much fun. And I think, for all its flaws, this undercurrent to "Orange Juice" makes it fit in real nicely with the rest of Stick Season. In general, the album is about the place you grew up in, and having a certain draw to it that has nothing to do with how the trees look after the leaves fall off but before it snows, and everything to do with the fact that you cut your teeth there and became the person you are today there and as you continue to grow and change you're starting to miss that person you used to be.
Stick Season is a worthy album for this reason—the fact that it's not only nice and pleasant and catchy and sort of all hangs together as one cohesive thematic whole. Can't get that on motherfucking TikTok.
But it's Record Club, and I'm spending a week entrenched with the album no matter what insane unnecessary personal baggage I'm bring to it, and so of course there is some measure of flattening out and maybe even occasionally some Stockholm syndrome. At a certain point, I'm forgetting about the social transgression that is TikTok and just sinking into some catchy folk music. Sometimes I miss the miserable asshole I used to be when it comes to music. It would be easier to hate this thing just on principle. It gets more complicated when the songs are mostly competent and occasionally fun.
Derivative, too, of course, but what the fuck does that even mean? Describing something as "derivative" is just a way for music snobs like me to impress upon you that "I know a band that did it first." If you've never seen a viral TikTok video featuring a bikini-clad sixteen-year-old girl dancing in front of her phone to a fifteen-second clip of a Langhorne Slim song (good), or a Mumford and Sons song (bad), or a Local Natives song (probably), or a Bon Iver song (definitely), then this is all gonna seem brand fucking new to you. And I think that's great. You gotta start somewhere. You bet your ass I thought Sum 41 were making a novel sound when I was a teenager. But ya know what? I eventually listened to blink-182 and Judas Priest, and eventually I realized that they were just combining those two sounds that already existed and were already popular. Derivative? Hell fucking yeah. Doesn't mean I don't still like Sum 41.
Here's the rub, though—are people listening to Noah Kahan on TikTok and then using the joy they felt listening to Stick Season as a springboard to exploring all his very obvious influences? It doesn't seem like it, which is a problem for me, though I can't articulate why without sounding like an insufferable blowhard. I'm not even blaming the kids for letting the algorithm give them bite-sized portions of curated, generic music that they can then either dispose of or place on one large ongoing playlist of any song that "vibed" with the listener when the algorithm deemed them the appropriate target for this particular sound. This is a symptom of the dystopian music scene that capitalism has built for them.
If the algorithm truly did know me and know what song would be the right fit for how I'm feeling right now (instead of doing what it usually does and just recommend a different song from the same artists that are already on the goddamn playlist), then it would probably play me "Orange Juice." I like most of the songs on Stick Season well enough, but "Orange Juice" was the only one that I felt any strong emotion toward. The reason why has really nothing to do with the subjective quality of this album and has everything to do with me and my own insecurities and flaws. I think the best way to put it is that this song gives voice to everything I fear in my friends' reactions to my sobriety (and the line about it being "six months on the dot" is frighteningly close to where I'm at right now). The narrator (maybe Kahan, maybe not) feels uncomfortable around his newly sober friend, and isn't sure how to talk to the friend about his sobriety. The friend doesn't even get invited to a party until the very end, and when he does show up, Kahan thinks he's helping by offering fucking orange juice, a terrible drink that he points out was specifically bought for children, which reads as insulting to me. Plus, there's the implication by Kahan that sobriety needs to be the direct result of some type of trauma, though I guess "having too much and generally being tired of it" might not be as exciting as the topic of a song. There's just too much wondering about what this sober dude is thinking on the narrator's part. It's like, dude, just talk to him if you have questions. Asking questions and wanting clarification and being upfront about it isn't going to drive anyone back toward alcohol. It's actually kinda helpful to be not weird about it. Offering someone orange juice is being weird about it.
This is all totally my problem and my problem alone. Clearly, I'm working through some shit right now. I'm not, like, calling someone out in this review. I know from experience that it's fucking uncomfortable when one of your good pals goes sober. And to a certain extent, I'm just taking my frustrations out on Noah Kahan. What would the TikTok crowd call it? "Catching strays," right? Something like that. FUCK, I hate Tiktok. But let's say something nice about "Orange Juice." I think that a general discourse that surrounds a friend getting sober is that your social interactions have to change by necessity, and there's a certain sense of mourning that you can't go back to how it used to be, when y'all would have so much fun. And I think, for all its flaws, this undercurrent to "Orange Juice" makes it fit in real nicely with the rest of Stick Season. In general, the album is about the place you grew up in, and having a certain draw to it that has nothing to do with how the trees look after the leaves fall off but before it snows, and everything to do with the fact that you cut your teeth there and became the person you are today there and as you continue to grow and change you're starting to miss that person you used to be.
Stick Season is a worthy album for this reason—the fact that it's not only nice and pleasant and catchy and sort of all hangs together as one cohesive thematic whole. Can't get that on motherfucking TikTok.
GRADE: 3 pukes out of 5
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