"I never will stop grieving." When Leith Ross sings the first line of their sophomore album I Can See the Future, it isn't angry or defeated or pleading. Instead, it's calm, quietly accepting grief as an unavoidable part of the human condition that sticks itself to all corners of life and never gets unstuck. On "Grieving," the Winnipeg-based indie singer-songwriter puts a country-folk spirit to a common feeling that is often difficult to describe; to mourn things that haven't happened yet alongside the things that have: "I think I'll love after I'm dead / And I'll grieve while I'm alive."Joined by in-demand producer Rostam on the follow-up to their 2023 debut album To Learn, Ross doesn't always place the past, present and future into three separate categories of time. Sometimes, all of them are muddled together, blended into a singular entity in which lived experiences are undetachable from fears and speculations about the future. Rostam's alt-pop touch brings levity and life to the acoustic-driven album, making these moments feel melancholic, nostalgic and even comforting.Ross reflects on sunnier times on "Point of View." Its rhythm treks forward like a train passing by a flurry of autumnal trees, only adding to a sensation of loss. There's a sadness to this kind of sentiment, but bright mandolins and fiddles colour the track with hope. On "Stay," Ross's admiration and curiosity for a lover know no bounds, even if the song's kick-snare latter half — featuring vocals from Dijon — is less intimate than its dreamy, music box-like beginning. "I couldn't be fed / And not share in this all, too / 'Cause I cannot be human alone," they admit.Ross has a gift for making the little things feel larger than life. "Terrified," an upbeat guitar-led piece channeling early-aughts Sheryl Crow, is anxious about the grand map of life ahead, but, at the same time, it can't extinguish the innate desire to experience it. "Home" is a gentle piano ballad capturing the disorienting feeling of returning home and knowing it doesn't entirely belong to you anymore; of longing to go back to a familiar, simpler time. A delicate harp on "What My Love Is For" paints a picture of Cupid himself perched on a cloud, watching his beloved from above. However, the stretch of consecutive love songs that follow slow the album down, and while wholesome enough, feel redundant when listened to in succession.I Can See The Future is about time, and how our memories of specific moments blur and shapeshift as it goes on — but it also looks ahead, even beyond our lifetimes, to a world worth living for. Through clouds of uncertainty and sadness, Ross is an optimist by the end of the record. They evolve into a clairvoyant, seeing visions of flowers growing out of stones and prison walls on the jubilant titular track "(I Can See) The Future." There's no doubt in their mind that these visions will come to fruition, just as the sun continues to shine in winter.
Wavelength
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