Noah Kahan
Nationals Park
1500 South Capitol St SE
Washington, D.C.
July 22, 2026
I think Noah Kahan would like me. Not romantically. Just as a person. I’m aware that what I’m feeling would be described as parasocial, but I think that if he spent time with me, he’d really see me. But that’s not why I drove 270 miles round-trip from Philly to D.C. to see him perform to a sold out crowd at Nationals Park, without even having a ticket until a few hours before the show. I did that because it felt worth it to go through all that trouble for a musician who, without having met me, makes me feel seen. I also did it because I am in a one-sided beef with Ticketmaster, and I refuse to lose to them.
Having started listening to Noah Kahan’s music only two years ago, I was late to the party. But I was hooked almost immediately because prior to hearing his song “Stick Season,” I had never heard an artist mention COVID in a song: “Doc told me to travel, but there's COVID on the planes,” he sang in his hit song about experiencing seasonal depression in the aftermath of a breakup in his hometown of Strafford, Vermont. I played the song at full volume over and over again as I drove through New England on a leaf peeping trip I took in 2024.
Since then, Noah Kahan has slowly but surely created space for himself both in my heart and in my most replayed playlist. I’ve connected with his lyrics about topics like mental health, sobriety, growing apart from close friends, and so much more. But I didn’t know how famous he was until quite recently, when I was trying to get tickets to this tour and watched as the entire stretch sold out. When I missed his show in Philly for numerous reasons, I knew I needed to figure out where to see him. The idea of going to D.C. for it sort of fell into my lap, so off I went.
As I went safely 5-10 MPH above the speed limit on I-95 South, I listened to the playlist I curated for the ride. The track listing was mostly NK songs, but for every 2 or 3 of his songs I heard a song that was either about D.C. or by a DMV-based artist. It looked a bit like this:
- She Calls Me Back by Noah Kahan
- Paid Time Off by Noah Kahan
- Orbiter by Noah Kahan
- Chuck Baby by Chuck Brown
- The Title Track by Origami Angel
- Doors by Noah Kahan
- Staying Still by Noah Kahan
- Cee Cee From DC by T-Pain and Wale
Because NK’s music tends to start out somewhere between the sounds of the woods at night and a gentle strum, you can imagine how jarring it was when the next track was something by Ekko Astral or Shy Glizzy.
Before I took the drive, I posted on Reddit asking folks what drew them to Noah Kahan’s music. I knew why I felt connected to him, but what was it about him that made him so beloved to so many? Why, when I talked about him with my friends, was I met with blank stares while I also knew his fandom was vast? I haven’t yet figured out that second question, but when I stopped to read the responses from his fans (AKA bugs, the fandom’s name) online, it helped me to understand why he means so much to so many.
“I grew up an hour from where he grew up. New England is embedded deep within his music,” one Reddit user told me.
“My son is on the spectrum and has Tourette’s. He struggles with depression and anxiety. Some of Noah’s songs speak to me because of our struggles,” another Redditor said.
Another commenter said, “I personally am drawn to him because I have struggled with mental health, including an eating disorder. I was introduced to him while in inpatient therapy and his songs resonated with me.”
With all of these responses and many more, it became clear that I wasn’t the only person who felt seen by a total stranger. Seeing these comments made me want to work even harder to get into the show, just to be able to experience the glee and pain of his music surrounded by people who I can quietly relate to. And thus, my latest battle with Ticketmaster began.
I spent every moment I wasn’t actively working on Wednesday refreshing Ticketmaster, StubHub, SeatGeek, Reddit, and other spaces where I could try to find a ticket. As tickets were released on Ticketmaster, it was obvious they were being quickly scooped up by bots. Several times, I pressed purchase on a ticket and got an error message saying the ticket I was buying had already been purchased. NK’s team had worked to try to make sure this didn't happen to their fans, but until touring artists find a way to tour without using these corrupt platforms, it will keep happening. The biggest kick in the gut was when, that afternoon, my account and IP address were blocked for “suspicious activity,” leaving me no choice but to use one of the price-gouged ticketing platforms, not knowing if it would even be a valid ticket when I got to the venue.
Thankfully, though, I entered Nationals Park without issue and made my way to the seat I worked all day to obtain. The folks by me were sweet – while I expected the crowd to mostly look like my high school bullies, it was actually a more diverse audience than I anticipated. It was especially surprising to see how many men were there, and not just young men, but guys I would expect to have been there just as a chaperone passionately sang along to every word. It was especially nice to see so many mother/daughter duos able to enjoy the show together and connect with the music.
For a little over two hours, Noah Kahan brought us into his world. His stage was set up to look like places that paid homage to his hometown and experiences there. My favorite was when it turned into the rural version of a corner store called Kahan’s General, with signage that cheekily included some of his song titles like “Doors” Light and “Homesick” Hazy IPA. There was a prop car that was used for a skit in which he was arrested while singing his hit song “Dial Drunk” and the runway and B stage were decorated to look like a dock leading to a lake. Somehow, I was left feeling nostalgic for a place I’ve never lived.
And even though NK’s songs are about incredibly heavy subjects, he managed to make the night feel light and dreamy. He went from singing about a strained relationship with a family member to dancing around like he and his band were extras in “The Country Bears.” From a song about your town experiencing gentrification to a fake phone call with Congress saying that his fans now have to wear diapers to his shows if they’re going to keep “pissing all over the floor” (along with shitting all over the floors, which regrettably did happen at the Philly show I missed).
Most of the time, I leave a show with post-concert depression. I feel low as the lights come up, looking around feeling unsure what to do next. But leaving the Noah Kahan show, I felt lighter. I felt like I won one of my battles against Ticketmaster, but most certainly not the war. I felt like, collectively, we all let something go with the help of a guy from Vermont who speaks truth and empathy to our dark, cold feelings.
