Leith Ross has a way of making you feel like you’re sitting on their kitchen floor at 3:00 AM, sharing a single bowl of cereal while discussing the heat death of the universe. It’s a specific kind of intimacy. Most people found them through a 15-second TikTok clip of "We’ll Never Have Sex," a song so devastatingly quiet it managed to stop the infinite scroll for millions. But as we move into 2026, the conversation has shifted. It's no longer just about that one viral moment.
Honestly, everyone was holding their breath for the second album. Sophomore slumps are real, especially for "internet famous" songwriters who get pigeonholed into the sad-girl-with-a-guitar trope. Then I Can See The Future dropped in late 2025, produced by Rostam Batmanglij (the guy who shaped the sounds of Vampire Weekend and Clairo), and it basically flipped the script. It wasn't just a collection of sad songs; it was a manifesto on radical optimism.
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The Dual Meaning of I Can See The Future
The title isn't just a flex about being psychic. Leith has been pretty vocal in interviews—like that sit-down with VoiceNoted—about how the phrase has two very different lives. On one hand, it’s deeply personal. It’s about that moment of clarity where you finally understand your own patterns. You look at your past, you see the "why" behind your choices, and suddenly you can "see the future" because you know exactly how you’re going to react to things. It’s self-awareness as a superpower.
Then there’s the political side.
The title track, which Leith calls the "beating heart" of the record, is written from the perspective of someone living hundreds of years from now. It’s a person living in the world Leith is fighting for today. You’ve got these lyrics about flowers growing over the "brick and the stone / of the prisons and roads." It’s a bit of a departure from the "I’m sad in my bedroom" vibe. It’s more like: "I’m sad, but I’m building a garden anyway."
Breaking Down the Sound of the Record
If you're expecting just an acoustic guitar, you're going to be surprised. Rostam’s production brought in these weird, shimmering textures—twinkling percussion, horns, and even some pedal steel. It feels bigger.
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The Highlights
- "Grieving": This is the opener, and it’s a total head-fake. The melody sounds like a nursery rhyme, something you’d hum to a toddler. But then you listen to the words: "I never will stop grieving who we are when we are young." It’s about the fact that grief isn't just for the dead; it's for the versions of ourselves we leave behind.
- "Stay": This one features Dijon, and it hits that sweet spot between indie-folk and R&B. It’s got this line, "I cannot be human alone," which Leith says was an epiphany they had while writing. We aren't built for isolation, even if the modern world tries to force us into it.
- "Terrified": Probably the most "pop" Leith has ever sounded. It gives early-2000s Sheryl Crow energy. It’s anxious and upbeat at the same time, which is basically the definition of being alive in your twenties.
The album is long—48 minutes across 13 tracks. Some critics at Exclaim! argued that the middle section of love songs slows things down a bit too much, but for the hardcore fans, that's exactly where the juice is.
Why This Song (and Album) Still Matters in 2026
We’re living in a time where everything feels a bit... scorched earth. It’s easy to be cynical. Leith Ross grew up outside Ottawa with a dad who taught philosophy and ethics, so they’ve been asking "the big questions" since they were ten years old. That background shows. They aren't just writing hooks; they’re trying to figure out how to be a person.
The "Reprise" of "Grieving" toward the end of the album is much darker than the first version. It’s stark. It reminds you that the optimism in the title track isn't cheap. It was earned by sitting in the dark for a while.
Quick Stats on the Release
- Release Date: September 19, 2025
- Label: Republic Records
- Core Themes: Preemptive grief, radical hope, community building.
- Key Collaborator: Rostam Batmanglij (Producer/Engineer).
Actionable Insights for the Listener
If you’re just diving into Leith’s discography, don't just shuffle. There’s a narrative arc here.
- Listen to "To Learn" first. It’s the 2023 debut. It sets the stage for the personal growth you hear in the new stuff.
- Watch the "Stay" music video. It captures that sense of "found family" that Leith is obsessed with.
- Read the lyrics for "(I Can See) The Future" separately. Treat it like a poem. It changes how you hear the melody once you realize it's a letter to a human who hasn't been born yet.
The world doesn't need more "everything is fine" songs. It needs songs that acknowledge the "brick and the stone" but still look for the flowers. That’s what Leith Ross handed us. It’s a reminder that even when you’re grieving, you’re still allowed to look ahead.
To fully experience the transition in their sound, compare the live-recorded feel of the Motherwell EP to the polished, expansive world of I Can See The Future. You can find the full album on all streaming platforms or grab the "Tangerine" vinyl if you want that physical connection to the collage-style artwork Leith designed themselves.