So rarely does an album break free from its auditory confines and spin itself into the most visceral, tender visual scenes, painting an achingly beautiful portrait of being in your 20s. But with Sophie Mitchell’s What’s Left of Us, you see it — all of it.
See the sun-splattered Iowa summers and creaky old college-town houses. See the delicate chorus of birds and slow mornings after whirlwinds of school, work and obligations in between. See the purple and red love bites that turn from love to embarrassment to reminders. See the dried flowers that marked happier times, only now injected with flashes of red-hot anger and sorrow rather than the soft pinks and greens of life. This is the kind of album that breakups are made for.
Long based in Iowa City (and a recent Chicago transplant), Sophie Mitchell puts emotion to melody on a raw debut album, alongside the twinkling production and aural tapestries of Nick Wilkins. Many of these tracks have slowly been released and embraced, dating as far back as 2021 with the sweetly catchy “Your Other One,” but there’s something electric about Mitchell’s personal journey as songwriter, musician and person — as if finally distilled in a breezy, albeit devastating 35 minutes. Initial school projects become a full album of musical collaboration, while voice memos blossom into biting diatribes and ballads of acceptance.
What’s in full bloom here is pitch-perfect sardonic humor — everything you wish you could say to the one who did you wrong. Take your pick between the melodic “fuck you”s of “Creator, Destroyer,” the vitriol of “Sick Habit” shattered by the agonzing lyrics, pleading, “I could be softer, smaller, willing,” and a personal favorite lyric from “Your Other One” that will be pocketed and saved for later: “You take yourself as serious as death!” With every raw punch and swing, there’s Wilkin’s whimsical, sunny musical production to pick up the pieces of your heart that Mitchell shatters, from the lush layering of “Slower Mornings” to the synth ruminations of “I’m Still Here.”
If any of the above lyrics threaten to destabilize you towards past heartbreak, “Wilted” will absolutely disintegrate you into crushed rose petals, lit afire and burned to ashes. “Only natural to wilt without light and water / Can’t be mad at me for tilting without roots to pull me under,” Mitchell warbles gut-wrenchingly against hauntingly sparse guitar and timid piano chords. But even in the most hopeless lyrics, there’s hope and warmth evident — the flowers may be wilted, dead even, but growth still springs from their seeds.
This warmth is felt deeply in the album’s narrative core, with a collection of personal voicemails dispersed throughout the album. Lovingly referred to by the caller’s last name, and with titles like “Burnside’s Interlude,” the artist’s friends and community take center stage — whether kicking off the album playfully, simultaneously providing a gorgeous showcase for Lex Leto’s flute playing, or bringing a final note of despair to the titular track “What’s Left of Us.”
And what is left after a withered relationship? Mitchell answers: “All that’s left of us is dust.” But if the love-filled voice notes from the singer’s circle prove anything, love may uproot, but community and friendship are steadfast, replanted stronger.
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This article was originally published in Little Village’s October 2025 issue.
