Mikah’s new single Escape sits in that in-between space — where comfort starts to blur into confinement, and the things that once felt safe begin to quietly hold you back. It’s not the kind of song that demands attention or tries to impress on the first listen. It moves slowly, unfolding at its own pace, and somehow lands exactly where it needs to.

Coming off his collaboration with 88rising on Butterflies, Escape opens the first chapter of his new project, Homesick. The concept is fitting — a reflection on leaving home, chasing what you love, and realizing that growing up often means growing apart. Written about his time in Hawaii, the song captures that feeling of being caught between gratitude and restlessness. It’s not about escape in the dramatic sense — it’s about the quiet realization that you’ve outgrown the version of yourself that once felt comfortable.

The sound fits that tug-of-war perfectly. It’s clean, but there’s air in it — space for the song to breathe. You get those soft guitars, a few quiet hits of percussion, and Mikah’s voice layered just enough to feel close but not polished. It floats between R&B and indie pop with a hint of alt-rock hiding underneath. None of it feels planned out or overly mixed; it sounds like something that just came together on instinct, the way the best songs usually do.

Lyrically, Escape stays grounded. Mikah doesn’t lean on heavy metaphors or dramatics — he just says what he means, and it works. The writing captures that moment when “home” starts to feel too small, not because you’ve stopped loving it, but because you’ve changed. That quiet heartbreak — missing something even as you move past it — runs through every line. It’s the kind of honesty that feels universal, especially for anyone who’s ever had to leave what they love to figure out who they are.

Mikah’s voice ties it all together. There’s a calm ache to it — smooth, steady, and full of warmth — but you can still hear the uncertainty underneath. He never oversings or forces emotion; he just lets it sit there, unresolved. That’s what makes it hit harder. You feel like you’re hearing someone sort through their own feelings in real time.

What’s most striking is how Escape shows his growth. From his early work with INTERSECTION in Japan, to his rise in the Chinese market through CHUANG 2021, to now — there’s a clear sense of someone coming into his own. Songs like “so I don’t forget” showed he could write from the heart, but this feels different. More centered. More sure of who he’s becoming. It’s less about searching and more about understanding.

The song never builds toward a big climax — it fades, the way certain realizations do once you’ve made peace with them. That’s what gives it weight. Escape isn’t trying to be cinematic; it’s just honest about what it feels like to walk away from something that still means everything.

If this is how Homesick begins, it’s a strong start. Escape captures what it means to grow without resentment — to outgrow a version of home while still loving where you came from. It’s vulnerable and steady all at once, a quiet reminder that moving forward doesn’t always have to sound like running.