Sydney Ross Mitchell sits with the quiet ache of returning home in “Queen of Homecoming,” a haunting reflection on the tug-of-war between who we were, and who we’re still trying to become.

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The minute “Queen of Homecoming” begins, a quiet ache settles in – not sharp or devastating, but familiar in a way that pulls at something buried.

There’s a wistfulness to Sydney Ross Mitchell’s latest single that feels like standing in your childhood bedroom after years away, still half-expecting to see your teenage self in the mirror. Nostalgia runs deep through every line, but this isn’t a song about missing the past. It’s about outgrowing it – or trying to. It’s about returning to the people and places that shaped you and realizing you don’t quite fit anymore. And maybe you never did.

It’s the kind of song you put on when you’re homesick – but not for a specific place, more for a feeling. For a version of yourself that felt closer to whole. Maybe for a family who never quite saw you, or a town you gave so much to but never fully claimed you in return. “Queen of Homecoming” lingers in that liminal space between longing and letting go.

Released in December, the track arrives ahead of Mitchell’s upcoming EP Cynthia, due February 6th, 2026. Sydney Ross Mitchell grew up in a West Texas town where the pillars of life were Faith, Family, and Football – and as the only girl in a house full of brothers, she learned early how to hold her own. That sharpness, that grit, threads through every lyric she writes. Now based in Los Angeles, she’s found her footing between Americana storytelling and pop transcendence, making music that is plainspoken, personal, and unafraid of emotional contradictions. After gaining traction with 2024’s “Forward to the Kill” – a track that earned praise from SZA and Zane Lowe – Mitchell continues to carve out her own lane with songs like this: raw, reflective, and aching to be understood.

I’m terribly sorry, it appears
that I’ve ruined your party
I couldn’t make nice for an hour,
now I’m making another apology

Everyone in this restaurant hates me
I got drunk and cried like a baby
I’m always thinking
that time’s gonna change me
And maybe that’s why

There’s a cinematic softness to “Queen of Homecoming.”

The track opens with warm, clean instrumentation – a gentle bass line, dreamy chords, and vocals that almost tiptoe in, like Mitchell is whispering a confession she’s still not sure she’s ready to share. There’s a childlike innocence in her tone, not naïve, but hopeful – the kind of voice that still wants to believe a hometown can be proud of the girl who left it behind. It sounds like a coming-of-age film that ends not with resolution, but with understanding. Mitchell doesn’t beg to be loved – but you can hear her wonder what it would feel like if she was.

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
Oh, by know I should know
It’s always something
I’ll never be queen of homecoming
I’ll never be queen of homecoming

These lines hit like a punch and a sigh. “Queen of Homecoming” is less about a relationship and more about the relationship with yourself – specifically, the version of yourself you become when you return home. Mitchell reflects on the wounds opened every time she walks through familiar doors: expectations she’s never met, milestones she didn’t reach, and a town that still sees her as seventeen. There’s a sharp, tender grief in trying to outgrow the version of yourself everyone else remembers – especially when you’ve worked so hard to become someone new. The town, and the people in it, seem to carry an old, frozen image of her – and no matter how much she’s grown, she’s never quite enough for them.

For me, “Queen of Homecoming” unlocks so many conflicting emotions. I’ve left my hometown more than once – and every time I return, I’m caught between who I used to be and who I’ve worked so hard to become.

There’s something deeply validating about hearing someone like Mitchell give voice to that quiet heartbreak. Not wanting to reconnect with people from your past, but still craving the kind of acceptance only they could give. This song makes me want to start fresh somewhere far away, yet also makes me ache for a version of “home” that maybe never existed in the first place.

It’s the type of song that will resonate with anyone who’s ever moved away and looked back. Anyone who’s tried to outgrow a place only to feel its shadows still following them. It’s a song for people who left and still wonder if they’re missed, if they’re remembered, if they ever truly belonged.

“Every time I visit my hometown, I have this fantasy that everyone’s going to be so excited to see me, that they’re proud of me – but it never goes that way,” Mitchell tells Atwood Magazine. “I just end up feeling like I’m seventeen again. Maybe you’re always seventeen in your hometown.”

Sydney Ross Mitchell may never be crowned the queen of her hometown, but with “Queen of Homecoming,” she’s becoming something far more powerful – an artist who sees the cracks in belonging and sings them anyway.

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