On par with the likes of Whitney Houston, Fleetwood Mac, Amy Winehouse, and Queen – Noah Kahan is a revolutionist. What sets Kahan apart from other musicians, however, is his raw, gut-wrenchingly-candid and awestricking lyrical genius. While the majority of his discography influences an influx of tears in even the most bitter of listeners, I believe “Halloween” might be his most powerful song of all time.
“Halloween” commences with the slow, sorrowful strumming of a guitar and the breathless words “I’m sailin’ away to a place I’m afraid of.” Kahan continues – lyrics sliding out of his mouth gently yet full of emotion – by establishing the setting: “the dawn isn’t here, the sun hasn’t rose.” His melancholy echoes in my headphones and like in many of his songs, Kahan references his struggles with drug and alcohol abuse: “I drink ‘til I drown, and I smoke ‘til I’m burnin’.” This song is about the end of a relationship and the grief of heartbreak: a final farewell to a love who was the right person at the wrong time. “Halloween” induces a bittersweet sentiment in the listener as we explore Kahan’s anguish, learn of his coping mechanisms, and relate to his pursuit of closure.
Kahan describes his lover as a distant figure, confessing: “the last that I heard you were down in New Orleans workin’ your days at the print.” However, he lacks animosity toward her, singing “I worry for you, you worry for me and it’s fine if we know we won’t change.” Furthermore, the line “your hands are all over my scent” illustrates the imprint two lovers have on each other. Noah Kahan’s soft words and tentative chords exemplifies how even the most infatuated lovers can grow apart. “Halloween” shows how not all tenderness and adoration dissolves when a pair separates because once you truly adore another human they are embedded in your soul.
The chorus in “Halloween” is an earth-shattering, poignant, and harrowing collection of verbalized suffering.
“But the wreckage of you I no longer reside in. The bridges have long since been burnt. The ash of the home that I started the fire in, it starts to return to the earth. I’m leavin’ this town, and I’m changin’ my address. I know that you’ll come if you want. It’s not Halloween, but the ghost you dressed up as sure knows how to haunt.”
Kahan croons of a relationship far past its expiration date – one with “wreckage” and burnt bridges. He writes of recovery, acceptance, and the future. He’s moving on – literally relocating “the ash of the home that I started the fire in”– and yet confesses to feelings for his ex-lover by saying “I know that you’ll come if you want.” Kahan’s lyrics in this section of “Halloween” compare the girl to a ghost haunting his every waking moment and yet he still holds little resentment towards her. Through these lyrics, Noah Kahan not only highlights the mixed emotions of heartbreak, but also expresses his most vulnerable state to anyone who presses play on “Halloween.” These four lines remind me of a cold shower, a slap in the face, or the sharp stinging of a needle: spiritual aching and obsessive endearment is what makes us human.
The second half of the song directly references death: “Halloween” is “an ode to the hole that I found myself stuck in, a song for the grave that I dug.” Kahan personifies a murder of crows, chanting “I see your face in each one.” He cannot forget his past nor release his devotion and thus woos the listener with his buttery-sweet voice as he sings “I’m losin’ myself in the tiniest objects (…) I’m hearin’ your voice in a strange foreign language, if only I learned how to speak.” The musical manifestation of his mourning makes for one of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard.
Kahan signs the letter to the ghost of his lover by reflecting on his own mistakes during their relationship: “I know that you fear that I’m wicked and weary, I know that you’re fearin’ the end. But I only tell the truth when I’m sure that I’m lyin’. So, I’m settin’ sail once again.” He must move on – even if he still loves her, despite their unresolved conflict and his lies – because even the briefest reminder of her feels more akin to haunting than warmth.
“Halloween” is not a mainstream pop anthem where Noah Kahan jumps around excitedly with his banjo and sings of his hometown. All three minutes and 55 seconds of this song are reflective, angstful, and expose the darkest of emotions. And yet, I have become addicted to his words, his imagery, and his soliloquy of a grieving guitar. Hearing “Halloween” pound through my headphones psychologically relocates me to a rainy dock as I truly allow myself to listen to the lyrics and embrace all aspects of his agony. Out of all of Noah Kahan’s music, “Halloween” is the one song where I find myself infatuated with every breath he takes, waiting in anticipation for his next confession.