Sydney Ross Mitchell Follows her Heart through a Tornado of Guilt, Disapproval, and Nostalgia to Build a Home of her Own
Cynthia is a carefully constructed EP about the ache of outgrowing the nostalgic, yet stagnant comforts of home. Sydney Ross Mitchell implements intimate, heightened Americana-style storytelling to seek and ultimately find identity outside of her self-portraits painted by others. Tranquil instrumentals reflect the majestic spells that Mitchell casts upon herself to find peace and relax into a new chapter, where she is living for no one’s expectations but her own.
Mitchell balances quaint instrumental landscapes with more layered production and lyrics that rotate through her feelings of trapped frustration, grief, and hope. Like pages from a well-traveled diary, each song introduces more layers to Mitchell’s homesick diagnosis, feeling woven and intentional, never jumbled or out of place. Addressing unrealistic expectations with the opening title track “Cynthia,” she sings, “Two days back in Texas, my mother looks me in the eye/She says that marriage and having babies are the reasons for my life.” The project concludes with Mitchell finding a peaceful version of forgiveness on “May The Landing Come Softly.” She lets the grief of being misunderstood ease as she sings, “My mother, she warned/Again of the rapture/Between sentences about weather/And the supper tonight/I hang up the phone/But then I love you more.” Looking at older versions of herself that only exist back home highlights her gratitude for who she has become and the life she has built.
Photo by Sabra Binder
In between, Mitchell addresses her connection to nostalgia as she wallows in a misty haze of anger, guilt, and self-reflection. With “Victory Lap Whiplash,” she sings with a bitter edge as she admits to feeling trapped in a relationship and situation that did not sit right in her stomach: “I got a nosebleed at your party/It’s like my body knew the signs/That you were a traitor, I had to center/My mistake in your design.”
“Queen of Homecoming” marks the crescendo of Mitchell’s battle between how she is perceived and who she is: “I hate going home, I feel like myself again/I can't even smile, I miss my boyfriend/If I'm the star, it's still disappointing/I don't have a baby or a diamond to show them.” Disappointment haunts her narrative at every turn, no matter what she does or achieves; however, she knows that this grief outweighs basking in a false sense of acceptance if she were to appease other people’s dreams.
Mitchell balances intimate storytelling with dynamic production that doesn’t dwell in sadness, but rather reflects a more happy-go-lucky attitude and the light beyond this period of darkness. “Kisses on Ice,” preceded by a jazzy instrumental interlude plays with light and sparkling vocals that carry a sense of patient longing while still ruminating on the idea of a relationship being different, and better, than how it is in reality: “They say that life is short, like it isn’t/The longest thing that we’ll ever know/I put my kisses on ice/You can warm 'em whenever you like.” The vocal and instrumental quality reflects a silly, almost delusional hope that one day the frost of a lost and frozen relationship will creep away. She works through her aching heart on “Big Boy Problems” and finds power in leaving: “No, I was a bitch, but I meant what I said/Turn your back when I'm giving in/Sweet like Madonna, girl you could love/Big boy problems, is it enough?/The mercy of a memory isn't enough?/It is what it is, it was what it was.” Nostalgia is no longer a crutch for excusing the behavior she won’t tolerate.
Photo by Cole Silberman
However, “Dorothy” finds Mitchell reflecting on childhood and the grasp that memory still holds on her emotions as she sings about the difficulty in accepting how someone has changed from the image trapped in her mind: “Then when you hurt me, I see you on Halloween/Just a baby, riding your skateboard/Dressed up as Dorothy/Beautiful to me.” Deep, tender vocals reflect the humming and rich quality of steady drum beats that hover over a murky instrumental marsh. Layered backing vocals and riffs build into a comforting atmosphere that gives listeners permission to spin in a tornado of unfiltered emotion. By exploring her own vulnerability, Mitchell moves toward acceptance and eventually comfortable closure.
