BEYOND THE NOTES
Photo by º1824
October 28, 2025 | Hailey Benzvi
LOS ANGELES, CA — October 28, 2025 — At an º1824 conference September 10, just days ahead of their album release, 27-year-old Canadian indie folk singer-songwriter Leith Ross shared intimate reflections on their creative process and identity. Their sophomore album, I Can See The Future, dropped September 19 and is set to be followed by a 22-show fall tour beginning October 17 in Winnipeg.
There are albums you play in the background, and there are albums you build a moment around. Leith Ross’s sophomore release, I Can See The Future, is the latter. It’s a record that doesn't just ask to be heard, but felt, preferably while in motion, in thought, or in memory.
When asked about where they imagine the album being heard for the first time, Ross doesn't mention a concert hall or a crowded party. Instead, they describe a bike ride with a breeze, a solo walk, a long drive to somewhere new, or perhaps somewhere old and significant you haven’t visited in a while. These aren't just romanticized ideas of listening experiences. They're emotional cues that speak directly to the record’s core: movement, nostalgia, reflection, and becoming.
It's fitting for an album born from “Grieving,” a track written during the loss of Ross’s grandfather and, as it turns out, the first piece of the project to come into being. The song serves as a thematic anchor, reappearing near the end of the album in a reprise that suggests both continuation and closure. It’s one of many deliberate choices in sequencing that Ross urges listeners to follow in order, treating the tracklist like a journey. The journey begins with grief, but ends in something like hope.
And that hope is political, personal, and everything in between. As Ross puts it, I Can See The Future isn't just about heartbreak or healing; it’s also about imagining a better world; one where they, as a trans nonbinary queer artist, can exist fully, freely, and without compromise. Half the album navigates interpersonal dynamics; the other half zooms out to examine identity, place, and possibility. That duality is embedded in the title itself, which Ross chose for its double meaning: a literal future and a metaphysical one.
But even with all its weighty themes, the album doesn’t feel heavy. The emotion behind it is often soft, like an exhale or a breath before a cry. That’s why Ross’s suggested listening environments make so much sense. Whether you're biking through crisp air or driving down a stretch of highway lit by golden hour, I Can See The Future asks you to be in it, to engage with your own nostalgia and longing, not from a distance, but from the middle of it.
The sound itself helps create that space. Compared to To Learn, Ross’s coming-of-age debut, this album reflects sonic growth. The songwriting might feel like a natural continuation, as Ross says, they can’t always see their own evolution, but the production reveals a new sense of confidence. There’s more collaboration, more intentionality, and more tools in the toolbox, used with restraint and clarity. It’s an album that sounds like someone who knows themself better now.
In many ways, I Can See The Future isn’t just about where Leith Ross is going. It’s about where they’ve been, how they got here, and what it feels like to stand on the edge of something new. And for the listener, it invites the same kind of pause, a moment to sit with your thoughts, somewhere between past and possibility.
LATEST