
Leith Ross
‘I can see the future’
1824 press conference - October 2025
When it came to my question, I asked, “When you picture listeners hearing ‘I Can See the Future’ for the first time, what kind of setting or atmosphere do you imagine it being played in?” Ross (to me, potentially delusionally) lit up at the thought. They pictured motion: someone on a bike with the wind in their face, walking alone, or driving down a familiar road on the way to somewhere new. They imagined listeners moving through the world, reflecting on where they have been and where they are going. For them, that sense of physical movement mirrors the emotional movement of the record, which invites both nostalgia and wonder.
In a thoughtful and candid press conference discussing the release of I Can See the Future, Leith Ross spoke about the heart behind their second album and the journey that brought it to life. Known for the tender vulnerability of “We’ll Never Have Sex,” Ross has become a defining voice for those who crave sincerity in music, and this new project expands that honesty into something both personal and collective. They described the album’s title as having two layers of meaning. On one hand, it’s about self-awareness, the idea of understanding oneself deeply enough to build a life intentionally. On the other, it’s about belief in a better world and a collective hope for change. The title track, Ross explained, isn’t written from their present-day perspective but from the imagined voice of someone living far into the future, in a world built from the choices and compassion of today.
That future-minded lens shapes how the album unfolds. It opens and nearly closes with versions of “Grieving,” one of the earliest songs Ross ever wrote, sparked by the loss of their grandfather. That experience of grief, they said, was transformative, forcing them to reconsider how they live and love. In sequencing the record, Ross intentionally placed “I Can See the Future” apart from the rest, creating a narrative arc that moves from the deeply personal toward something vast and collective. They hope listeners play the album from start to finish so they can feel that emotional evolution in real time.
In terms of sound, Ross shared that I Can See the Future marks a leap in confidence and experimentation. They’ve grown from the image of a solo acoustic performer into someone who thrives in the studio, collaborating with producer Rostam as a true creative equal. This partnership opened space for sonic exploration, allowing Ross to use what they call “vibe shifts” to mirror emotional turns within the songs. “Alone,” for example, begins as a quiet, intimate moment before erupting into an anthemic, communal release, while “I Will” took several rounds of revision before it felt right. “Stay,” featuring Dijon, embodies the record’s emotional duality: sadness intertwined with joy, isolation with connection. And in “Point of View,” which Ross previewed during the event, they reimagine the classic love song by asking their partner to share their side of the story, recognizing that love is always experienced from within one’s own perspective.
When it came to my question, I asked, “When you picture listeners hearing ‘I Can See the Future’ for the first time, what kind of setting or atmosphere do you imagine it being played in?” Ross lit up at the thought. They pictured motion — someone on a bike with the wind in their face, or walking alone, or driving down a familiar road on the way to somewhere new. They imagined listeners moving through the world, reflecting on where they’ve been and where they’re going. For them, that sense of physical movement mirrors the emotional movement of the record, which invites both nostalgia and wonder.
Throughout the conversation, Ross returned often to ideas of connection and community. They spoke about queerness not just as identity but as a worldview — a way of questioning the systems we inherit and finding new ways to live and love within them. Rather than writing with a sense of imposed responsibility, they aim to be honest about their own experiences, trusting that truth will resonate. The same instinct shapes their plans for the upcoming tour. They hope to transform each show into a shared, healing space, one that feels less like a performance and more like a gathering. To that end, they plan to collaborate with local grassroots organizations in each city, giving fans a chance to connect and contribute beyond the music. Ross said they want their concerts to feel “therapeutic” and “communal,” a rare kind of togetherness in an increasingly isolated world.
When asked where first-time listeners should begin, Ross recommended “Stay” or the title track, explaining that both capture the essence of the album — tenderness, hope, and the courage to keep moving forward. And when the conversation turned to how they measure success after the viral breakout of “We’ll Never Have Sex,” Ross said they’ve learned to let go of external expectations. That song, they said, now lives its own life, separate from them. True success, for Ross, is knowing that something they wrote made someone else feel seen. On difficult days, they revisit messages from fans who share how their songs have helped them through grief or self-discovery, and it always brings them back to center.
Even the album artwork reflects this grounding in authenticity. The collage of personal photos and natural imagery serves as a visual scrapbook of the era, capturing the mix of memory and becoming that defines I Can See the Future. It’s tactile and intimate, mirroring how the record itself feels: deeply personal yet open to everyone.
As the press conference wrapped up, Ross spoke about the joy and nervousness of bringing these songs to life on stage. They are most excited to experience the swelling ending of “Alone,” the warmth of “Point of View,” and the catharsis of “Grieving” with audiences. The way they talk about it, it’s clear this album isn’t just about imagining a better future — it’s about practicing it in real time, through music, empathy, and movement.