Leith Ross , an indie singer-songwriter from Canada , curated a sense of tender familiarity at Cat’s Cradle this past Saturday. Ross’ “I Can See The Future” Tour   is promoting their sophomore album, which features introspective lyrics merged with mellow tempos. 

Ross independently released their first EP, “Motherwell,” in 2020. Their 2022 single, “We’ll Never Have Sex” spearheaded Ross’ recognition as the song reached viral status and has since remained a fan-favorite. 

Vulnerability is inescapably apparent throughout Ross’ lyricism, which combines the beauty and tragedy imprinted on themes of love, queerness and self identity. I had previously explored their music, but only after stepping into the venue did I fully admire their words. 

My friend and I entered Cat’s Cradle at 7:30 p.m.

Annika Bennett,  Ross’ opener, stepped onto the stage shortly after. With an acoustic guitar slung across her sweater, Bennett’s voice echoed through the silent room. Between explanations of tracks like “A Cure,”  she created a feeling of intimate community throughout the crowd. 

At about 9:15 p.m.,  Ross and their band, equipped with a keyboard, drum set, violin and guitars, stepped onstage. 

Elyssa Mothershed

The setlist began with “Point of View,” from Ross’ newest album. It was clear from the start that this show was cradled by a passionate gentleness. For most of the beginning, the crowd simply listened to Ross’ vocals. Some songs were a myriad of slow sentiments, which Ross drew out in beautiful harmonies. Other times, runs or belts accompanied by cymbals or guitar solos warranted cheers from the audience.

Slowly, Ross moved toward the center stage. Between tracks, they gave descriptions of what was to come next, making the concert feel truly intimate. “I Love Watching You Eat Dinner,” was described as an appreciation for the small and radical acts of care in our lives, such as making a friend a meal. This was the kind of intoxicating vulnerability I expected. 

About midway through the concert, emotions began to peak. A chorus of voices rose during “I Just Don’t Think That You Like Me That Much Anymore” and “I’d Have To Think About It” — two sensitive songs about intricate relationships.

I have continuously been obsessed with the notion of grieving things before they come to a close, so when the crowd began to clap to the drums behind the lyrics “grief is love run backwards,” during “Grieving,” I felt a sense of connection throughout the crowd.

Elyssa Mothershed

The entire show felt like a creative symbol of encouragement and grace. Every last note was granted a session of applause. The crowd’s interactivity was noted by the artist several times and made the show feel particularly special.

When nearing the end, Ross announced that in each town they visit, they highlight one organization to contribute to. For Chapel Hill, $2 from every merchandise purchase were donated to the Community Empowerment Fund.

The final song, “(You) On My Arm,” dusted the crowd with passion.

The stage then cleared for fifteen seconds before Ross began the encore with their acoustic guitar. In a surprise to the crowd, they played “Monogamy,” one of Ross’ older songs. Flashlights began to scatter the venue as bodies swayed and sang. 

The show officially closed with “We’ll Never Have Sex” and a hand on the heart from a teary-eyed Ross. 

The night encapsulated moments of stepping outside of one’s own mind. The soul-grasping nature of Ross’ stage presence and sound curation brought to life a solidarity in sensitivity. 

@dthlifestyle | lifestyle@dailytarheel.com