Elijah Woods: Can We Talk?

Elijah Woods
Photo: Austin Calvello

Elijah Woods’ debut shines with indie-pop confidence

Moving from Ottawa to LA singer, songwriter, and producer Elijah Woods produced his debut album Can We Talk? already carrying the weight, and confidence, of hard-earned success. With over a billion streams, sold-out tours across Canada and Asia, and a coveted opening slot for Niall Horan, Woods has built a global audience entirely on his own terms. From the first chord of opener “So Good” Woods makes it clear he’s here to craft pristine, emotionally tuned pop that balances joy, melancholy, and a genuine sense of self.

Across its 11 tracks, Can We Talk? blends vulnerability with pop craftsmanship, its emotional directness balanced by immaculate structure. Woods’ songwriting sits comfortably alongside indie-pop contemporaries like Sombr, but his delivery adds a distinctive warmth. “Could You Love Me?” is the standout here – a classic, spiteful love song about loving someone who “won’t even try.” Vocally, Woods leaps from clean pop highs to a gravelly near-country rasp that recalls Post Malone’s Austin era. It’s confident, catchy, and impossible to shake.

“Exercise Your Demons” might be his sharpest lyrical moment, propelled by jangly guitars and rhythmic phrasing that manages to weave “venomous sentiment” into poetry. “Cutting the Grass” and “Stay Home” capture the exhaustion of chasing dreams and the guilt of giving up on them. Woods’ ability to turn everyday frustration into something universal is one of the album’s quiet strengths.

Interestingly, some of the previously released singles, including “Ghost on the Radio” and “Slicked Back Hair,” while solid, feel slightly overshadowed by the newer, more personal cuts. Those album-deep tracks are where Woods’ personality shines most vividly, blending humour, longing, and melodic intuition.

Guitars drive the record but the real cohesion lies in Woods’ deft sense of production. Every song feels lived-in yet polished, proof that he can command the scale of mainstream pop without losing intimacy.

The closing track, ‘That’s All Folks,’ trades the acoustic, living-room sound for an upbeat, driving rock anthem built for a stadium-sized finale. It’s where Woods leans closest to his pop-punk roots, delivering a climactic goodbye and perhaps offering a wry wink to the Saturday mornings that shaped him.

In the end, Can We Talk? feels like the breakthrough of an artist who’s doing it entirely on his own terms. Without the machinery of a major label, Woods relies on word of mouth, social media, and his own craftsmanship to reach listeners – and that independence shines through every note. The only thing holding him back from pop stardom is scale. Because once you hear this album, it’s hard not to root for him.