There was something almost too perfect about seeing Noah Kahan and the performance he gave in Atlanta on July 27.

The music kept changing. So did the sky.

Noah payed Truist Park that night with Gigi Perez opening, and she later joined him onstage for “She Calls Me Back.” Their voices blended so well that I honestly wished they had gotten to sing together even longer. There was something effortlessly harmonious about the way their voices worked together.

I had fully planned on taking a ton of video clips that night. I (admittedly) wanted them for social media.

The problem was that I kept forgetting I was recording…

I would hold up my phone, start filming, and then suddenly realize I was singing along instead of paying attention to what was happening behind my screen. I was completely unashamed about it, too. These were some of my favorite songs, and apparently my brain decided that experiencing the concert was more important than getting the perfect video.

Fair enough, I suppose.

One of the clips I did manage to get was from “Orange Juice.” I sent a small snippet to a family member who has struggled with addiction, and that made the song hit a little differently for me that night. Sometimes a song can mean one thing when you hear it alone and something completely different when you hear it surrounded by thousands of people who also connect with it for similar (or varying) reasons.

Then the sky started changing.

The sunset was beautiful, and I kept looking away from the stage just to watch it. The colors shifted as the evening went on, slowly turning into night. Eventually, a full moon appeared.

And then came “Orbiter.”

Of course.

There was something almost funny about how perfectly it worked. Noah was singing metaphorically about the moon while there was a full moon hanging over the stadium. It felt like someone had planned the whole thing, even though it was just Atlanta doing what Atlanta does.

That night, the sky almost felt like another part of the setlist.

The sunset brought warmth. The darkness brought something heavier. The moon brought a little wonder. Noah’s songs were doing the exact same thing emotionally.

Life imitated art, and art seemed to imitate life right back.

I laughed. I cried. I sang. I probably embarrassed myself a little with how loudly I was singing, but I really did not care.

Noah has a way of writing about heartache that I think sets him apart from so many other songwriters. He can take something incredibly specific and somehow make it feel universal. You can listen to one song and think about a relationship. Another can make you think about family. Another can bring you back to a version of yourself you thought you had outgrown.

There is a song for every kind of ache life can bring.

By the time the concert ended, I realized I had spent the entire night moving between looking at the stage and looking at the sky. I went in wanting videos for my camera roll and left with something much better than a collection of clips.

I left with a night I actually experienced.

Although I am tempted to formally complain about one thing.

It was unbearably hot. Like, truly ridiculous.

But somehow, between the music and the sunset and the full moon and all the emotions Noah Kahan managed to pull out of me, I almost forgot.

Almost.

Written by Brooke Barowski