To Learn is Leith Ross's hazy and immersive confessional
"To Learn"
Following last year's viral success of “We’ll Never Have Sex”, Leith Ross has repeatedly proved that their knack for intimate, dreamy songwriting is far more than a one-hit-wonder.
Their 2020 mini-album Motherwell provided new fans with a lovely sample to delve into if they pleased, but for newcomers, their debut album To Learn is a real welcome with open arms into the hazy Leith Ross world.
It’s hard to pin down whether To Learn is more minimalistic or more luxurious, as Ross combines the two expertly to create the album’s gorgeously soporific atmosphere. Opener “5am” is a lush soundscape of an intro, sunrise synths intermingling with flickering acoustic instrumentals, soft and delicate but still richly constructed and comfortingly dense. In contrast, Ross goes for a lighter lyrical touch, giving us a few lines of thoughts that feel like they could just be being whispered to a friend.
Elsewhere on the record, they do the opposite, with sparser instrumentals laying the groundwork for a complete, vivid lyrical narrative – like the painstaking introspection of “We’ll Never Have Sex”, cautiously hopeful title track “To Learn”, or the chilling melancholy of “Orlando”. Though To Learn is beautifully cohesive, and all distinctly Ross’s hypnotic lo-fi liquid sound, they're far from one-note, crafting a world of emotions by putting their well-practised cache of musical tools to flawless use.
Diaristic writing, enchanting vocals, and gentle, evocative instrumentals are a winning combination – lots of singer-songwriters are doing it, and loads of music fans love listening to it. But Ross proves time and time again their ability to stand out in a saturated scene, both in the sheer quality of their softer moments, but in their ability to deepen things where they need to as well. “Guts” is a subtly soaring dream, boasting some of the most interesting, emotive textures on the record; “Ask First” mourns the breakdown of trust then pauses for us to reflect on it with a meditative, meandering guitar line that expands into an outro; “(You) On My Arm)” breaks the mold even more by tinging Ross’s acoustic sound with something almost slacker-rock, making it a "Teenage Dirtbag" for soft girls.
To Learn is rich, carefully constructed, and completely unpretentious – which means that Ross’s narratives are all the more poignant. Confessional and personal in tone, immersive and hazy in sound, the likes of Ross and their contemporaries could well be Gen Z’s Teen Suicide/Salvia Palth et al, and deservedly so.
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