Wine and Cheese: Noah Kahan and Phoebe Bridgers

With heart-wrenching lyrics, acoustic guitar, and a dash of existential dread, Noah Kahan and Phoebe Bridgers are there to soundtrack your deepest despairs.

It’s your dream collab. The artists you add back-to-back to the queue. The pairing you can’t get enough of. You know they sound good together, but why? Welcome to Wine and Cheese, a series investigating the why and telling you all about it.

Written by Claire Hookstra

Photos courtesy of Vogue and Billboard

Sometimes the only thing to do is cry it out — let the pain of failed relationships and the stressors of life take over as the tears fall. Noah Kahan and Phoebe Bridgers understand this catharsis, framing their songs with a certain depth unreached by other music artists. Giving a voice to internalized sorrows and tribulations, both of these musicians convey their fervid emotions in ways that make one feel understood. With raw, poignant lyrics and sad folk sounds, Kahan and Bridgers pair perfectly for the lost, the lonely, and the homesick.

Kahan’s most recent album, Stick Season (We’ll All Be Here Forever), revolves around the central theme of longing for a life left behind. Kahan reminisces of a failed past love in his acoustic ballad, “Strawberry Wine.” “Those things I miss but know are never coming back,” he sweetly vocalizes. Through this ode of sweet love turned bitter, Kahan is stuck in a cycle of nostalgia. He deciphers the failed love through his thoughts, and he ultimately concludes that the only one to blame is himself. Kahan ponders on the intimate moments he shared with his past love as he quavers about “all the time [they] used to have.” While Kahan cannot fathom moving on from his relationship in his music, Bridgers forces herself to find peace in closure. “Anyway, don’t be a stranger,” she chants through the eminent outro of the reminiscent “Scott Street.” After a dialogue of small talk, Bridgers finds herself walking away from the old partner, wondering if he thinks of her as often as she does him.

These songs’ similar sonics bolster their shared contexts of learning to let go. The clear and sweet melody from the lone acoustic guitar echoes behind Kahan’s voice, fully immersing the listener in the nostalgic aura of the tune. A looping guitar riff reigns clear over Bridgers’ muffled voice in her track. When compared, the comforting warmth from the guitar melodies enhances the sentimentality of these songs. Both nostalgically painful in their unique ways, “Scott Street” and “Strawberry Wine” are raw descriptions of yearning for the past and succumbing to love’s end.

In an interview with The Line of Best Fit, Bridgers explained how artists “are consumed with this idea of the inevitability of death.” While this statement may be melancholic, it reigns true throughout the discography of both Kahan and Bridgers. Both artists simultaneously make the lonely feel loved through sweet, revered lyrics and let the hurt simmer in their pain through distinct images of despair and resentment. “I saw the end / It looked just like the middle,” Kahan mundanely chants in the chorus of his devastating deluxe track, “No Complaints.” Listing his attempts to relieve his emotional pain, he ultimately reaches a point of surrender. He may be numb, but he asks himself, “Who am I to complain?” He reminds himself that he should not mourn his old emotions, for being senseless is better than feeling everything at once. The morose concept of accepting inevitable sadness continues into the Bridgers’ haunting track, “Funeral.” “Jesus Christ I’m so blue all the time,” she laments over acoustic guitar. “And that’s just how I feel / Always have and I always will,” Bridgers harmonizes in the closing of the chorus, surrendering to sadness with a despondent confrontation of her character. Both tracks develop a human connection with the listener through their respective conversational tones. Allowing their audiences to peer into their inner monologues, Kahan and Bridgers create painstakingly beautiful depictions of emotionally heightened situations. 

Though an acoustic ballad never hurts, not all of the duo’s tracks are slow and sentimental. One concept both Bridgers and Kahan have perfected is how to end an album of pain and sorrow with intense anger, etherealism, and … screaming. Kahan’s album closer, “The View Between Villages,” deals with the haunting memories of childhood and the hope for a new life — all while ironically longing to return home. “I am not scared of death / I’ve got dreams again,” Kahan articulates near the beginning of the track. His new life has given him the courage to dream, no longer scared of the future. Starting slow with isolated instrumentals and vocals, Kahan progressively intensifies his voice as the song reaches its eventual climax. Alongside booming instrumentals, Kahan claims, ‘“The car’s in reverse, I’m gripping the wheel / I’m back between villages / and everything’s still.” He finally reaches a point where he has moved on from the ghosts of his hometown experiences, and yet his longing to return home still lingers. Bridgers’ conclusion of Punisher, “I Know the End,” follows suit. Beginning smooth and soft, the track builds continuously as Bridgers reflects on her past trauma in comparison to the new life ahead of her. The percussion builds as Bridgers’ voice becomes louder and clearer than her usual croon. As the song climaxes, she screams over the booming orchestral melodies, “I turned around, there was nothing there / Yeah, I guess the end is here.” Quite notoriously, the track ends with no sound but her haunting screaming turned into a petering whisper.

In contrast to Kahan’s closing track, Bridgers affirms that she “will find a new place to be from.” Bridgers is ready to move on, leaving her past in flames. Kahan identifies with his hometown as a place inextricably linked to his character no matter how deeply he yearns to start afresh. While Bridgers accepts the end is upon her, Kahan remains hopeful that he can reinvent his distressing past. Though they share contrasting approaches of coping with burdened life experiences, both Kahan and Bridgers free themselves of their pent-up anger through these daunting closing tracks.

Experts of melancholy, Noah Kahan and Phoebe Bridgers have set the bar high for the rise of indie folk. These artists bare their souls through their songs, harnessing the power of eliciting untapped emotions. Kahan and Bridgers provide a source of comfort and affirmation for their audiences, reminding them they are not alone. These singer-songwriters pair exquisitely when you just need to sit back, put on your headphones, and simply … feel.