Album Review: Olivia Dean — The Art of Loving

Olivia Dean’s The Art of Loving (released September 27, 2025) unfolds as a soulful, thoughtful, and emotionally rich journey through the highs, lows, lessons, and transformations that come with loving others—and learning to love yourself. The album not only traces heartbreak and healing but also celebrates the joy, spontaneity, confusion, and growth that shape love as a deeply human experience. Musically, Dean leans into blues, jazz, and neo-soul, crafting a warm and intimate sound palette that feels both nostalgic and refreshing. Her arrangements pull you inward; the lush chords, mellow grooves, soft strings and expressive vocals create the sensation of sitting in your own personal jazz bar, fully immersed. Nothing from the outside world intrudes—each track draws you deeper into its atmosphere, making you feel completely held by the music and every emotion it carries.

The Art of Loving (Intro)

Dean opens the album by summarizing the journey her listeners are about to take. She reflects on the highs and lows of love—its challenges, its beauty, and what is gained through loss. “You’ve taught me something,” she says, highlighting that learning is the very art of loving. Like a craft that requires practice, love only gets stronger when you’re willing to learn from your mistakes.

The imagery of “something lost and something gained… in the art of loving” captures how you might lose someone or even parts of yourself, yet you gain wisdom and strength in return. Soft birdsong, gentle piano, and delicate strings create a warm, reflective tone that sets the emotional stage.

Nice To Each Other

This track opens with soft guitar strums and a gentle kick drum that immediately puts you in a good mood. Dean’s soothing voice makes everything feel grounded. She speaks about the emotional baggage people carry into relationships and the vulnerable act of unpacking it.

There’s excitement in starting something new—learning tiny details about another person, like where they keep their cutlery—and simply choosing to be kind to each other. She notes that she’s “done all the classic stuff and it never works,” so why repeat the same patterns?

The upbeat chorus sticks in your head instantly, and the short pause between chorus and verse reflects her eagerness for something casual, light, and fun. Even as she confesses, “I don’t want a boyfriend,” she still longs for connection, the possibility of growth, and the joy of simply being nice to one another.

The rhythm mirrors a swaying “we’ll figure it out” energy. Her lyric “water, sunlight, talkin’ all night. Just enough to grow it” reveals that although she wants space, she still desires something meaningful.

Lady Lady

With its electric piano, shakers, and medium pace, “Lady Lady” lands in that perfect middle ground—not too slow to be sombre, not too fast to overshadow the lyrics. Dean explores the theme of accepting change. She refers to “she” and, at her concert (Massey Hall in Toronto), notes that “she” is her higher power—whatever that means to each listener.

The message is clear: just when you get comfortable, life rearranges things. But those changes are ultimately for the better. Lines like “She got a master plan. It’s something I don’t understand” prompt reflection on where you are today, how you got here, and the changes that shaped you.

The song feels like dancing in the streets—literally, since I did while backpacking through Europe, when this track reminded me that everything happens for a reason after my trip got majorly altered. It’s a universally relatable feel-good song.

Close Up

A soft piano opens the track, setting up a reflection on the kind of relationship where you find yourself forever chasing someone who stays emotionally distant. She wrestles with the question of how you’re supposed to get close to someone who always feels far away—and how, once you finally do get close, they’re no longer the person you thought you knew.

Jazz textures run through the arrangement, especially the warm sax and trumpet lines that give the song its soulful atmosphere. Dean moves effortlessly between low and high vocal ranges within the same track, a clear showcase of her versatility and control.

It’s still a heartbreak song, but carried by a lighter, more upbeat energy. The riffs smooth everything out, adding a richer, soul-infused feel. Near the end, her voice echoes in a way that feels deliberately old-school, as if recorded through a vintage microphone. Dean has mentioned she draws inspiration from Leona Lewis, and that influence becomes unmistakable in the closing moments.

So Easy (To Fall In Love)

This track is a confidence booster, describing how fun and wholesome it would be to fall in love with her. Not in a bragging way—more in an effortless, warm, “missing piece” kind of way. The electric and acoustic guitar blend with a shaker and smooth bass to create a catchy, dance-ready vibe.

It’s a true love song, capturing that fun Saturday-night feeling she imagines giving someone forever. Jazz elements return in the chorus with sax and trumpet flourishes. Her riffs in the later choruses—especially the word “call”—are stunning and seep into your soul as one of the cleanest. The background high notes soften the sound, and the quiet bridge that builds into a strong final chorus makes the song hit even harder. So easy to fall in love with her, indeed!

Let Alone The One You Love

Blues and jazz influences define this track, with the trumpet, light hi-hat touches, and soft humming giving it a distinctly soulful undertone. You can feel the heartbreak woven into the tempo, while Dean’s vocal range—moving beautifully from low, intimate tones to higher emotional peaks—deepens the song’s thoughtful, introspective mood. She reflects on the realness of needing someone, only to realize they aren’t good for you, accepting the painful truth that “you’re the hug that had to end” because trying to mend things would be too much work to bring it back to what it once was. 

Throughout the track, she fights the tension of giving so much while the other person cannot meet her there, prompting the question: who would do that to a friend, let alone someone they claim to love? The line “You react like I’m crossing a line” becomes the smoothest and most memorable riff on the album, with her emphasis on the word “line” capturing all the push-and-pull intensity of the relationship—her partner thinks she’s crossing boundaries when she isn’t.

She confronts the sting of being told she’s “too much” and the moment, two-thirds in, when she finally stands up for herself with eccentric passion. In the last thirty seconds, the song melts into joyful humming, as if she’s reached a place where words are no longer necessary; she’s simply moving through the moment, embracing growth, humming along to her own healing.

Man I Need

A fun, summery, career-defining track, “Man I Need” captures the excitement of a new connection: late-night conversations, meeting friends, craving intimacy, and fitting into someone’s life. It’s innocent, playful, bold, and joyfully energetic.  

Dean wanted the track to be fun and dance-ready, inspired by Michael Jackson’s “The Way You Make Me Feel.” Electric elements, faster drums, and hi-hat sizzles amplify the upbeat energy. Musically, the song bounces with a floaty lightness, blending her soulful vocal tone with a more pop-leaning feel—especially in the catchy line, “Man, man, man, man… already know I can’t leave it alone, you’re on my mind, mm.” 

As the song closes, her humming returns—faster and more joyful, signalling real emotional movement after the heaviness of “Let Alone The One You Love,” and suggesting she’s finally ready for something new.

Something Inbetween

A faster tempo, yet not fully upbeat, places this track in that “in between” space—where you’re unsure if it’s leaning toward heartbreak, hope, or something suspended right in the middle. Dean’s honest about the reality: this isn’t a forever relationship, but she also doesn’t want to cut it short. She’s not fixated on “getting it right” anymore; it simply is what it is, and all she really wants is honesty and a little room to breathe.

The push-and-pull dynamic sits at the center of the song. The pauses mid-sentence add depth—those intentional breaks only truly skilled artists can pull off well. It brings to mind Jorja Smith’s style, especially the way she plays with space in “Greatest Gift” (“Even in… in the wickedest times”). That same energy is mirrored here.

There’s a confidence in the way Dean asserts herself: she refuses to belong to anyone or be shaped into something else, yet she still desires connection. She acknowledges how confusing—and even frustrating—that can be for the other person, which only adds to the song’s emotional realism. The tone stays playful but slow, drifting in that uncertain middle ground.

The ending cuts off right on the final word, signalling a clear, nonnegotiable boundary. She’s content where she stands, and she doesn’t feel the need to explain beyond that.

Loud

The standout track of the album, “Loud” blends acoustic intimacy with bluesy, Adele-like tones. Its simplicity mirrors the story: wondering where a relationship slipped away, realizing she was being played emotionally, and confronting how painful silence can be. When she sings “you sure know how to play,” it’s about the piano — but the double meaning lands sharply.

Her delicate voice, soft echo, and the gradual swell of strings build a steady rise into a powerful emotional peak. “You weren’t allowed to throw my heart about” is firm but gentle, almost story-like, never aggressive. Her framing of silence — how loud, how cutting it becomes — is one of the song’s most striking themes.

When the second chorus hits, the strings elevate everything. The violins climb during the pause between “you weren’t allowed…” and “…to come around and throw my heart about,” mirroring her resolve; when they drop into lower notes, the heartbreak sinks back in. Dean’s vocal range is stunning here — long, aching notes that capture the exhaustion of holding on too long. Her riff on “down” in “to turn me on just to turn me down” feels like the sound of being torn apart.

The final build into “the silence is so loud” is the song’s emotional climax — the word “loud” soaring higher and longer as she reclaims her voice. Then everything softens: the guitar disappears, replaced by the piano she mentioned at the start. Now the hands on the keys are hers. “The one I let you play” lands with elegant heartbreak.

Dean has said on TikTok that the first demo was recorded on a day of exhaustion, but she re-recorded it two months later with more conviction and clarity — and you can hear that lived-in truth in every line.

“Loud” isn’t just the best track on the album; it’s a masterclass in storytelling, emotional nuance, and vocal power.

Baby Steps

A vibey, feel-good track built on warm, low-chorded instrumentation balanced with brighter high notes and steady guitar picking. “Baby Steps” captures the quiet reality of being with someone, losing them, and then figuring out how to walk through the world on your own again. Lines like “Now there’s no one to text when the plane lands, or to call when it’s taking off” have spread across TikTok for a reason—they resonate deeply with solo travellers, anyone navigating independence after connection.

Even with its ache, the upbeat tempo makes the loneliness feel strangely comforting. It’s the kind of song that says: you’re alone right now, but you’re not the only one who feels this way—and there’s joy and growth in that space. The mantra of the chorus, “I’ll be my own pair of safe hands… it’s not the end, it’s the making of,” lands with real power. It reframes heartbreak as a beginning, a slow rebuilding marked by tiny, steady steps.

The playful “ba-ba-ba-baby steps” phrasing mirrors the theme perfectly—growth isn’t fast or glamorous, but it is movement. The fun strumming and picking patterns, the hint of pop blended with jazzy warmth, and the ever-present shaker (a subtle Olivia Dean signature) make the track catchy, joyful, and easy to sing along to. Lyrics like “There’ll be roses on the shelf” highlight the importance of caring for yourself first, trusting that beauty blooms as you go.

Placed midway through the album’s emotional back-and-forth—love, heartbreak, confusion, and healing—“Baby Steps” arrives at exactly the right moment. It recenters the listener, reminding them to slow down, breathe, and take everything one step at a time.

A Couple Minutes

One of Dean’s personal favourites, and it carries the gentle wisdom that a relationship doesn’t have to last forever to matter. As she’s said, love is never wasted when it’s shared—a sentiment that frames the entire track. Soft strings open the song before bass, slow guitar, and understated drums ease in, giving it a bluesy, reflective tone that moves at an intentionally slow tempo.

Lyrically, she wonders about an old lover—what they’re doing, how they’re healing—while reminiscing on the good moments and acknowledging that not everything ended badly. The riff on “I’m glad you’re doing so well” is especially stunning, fragile yet sincere. She captures the familiar temptation of running into someone you once loved: knowing they’re not good for you anymore, yet still craving conversation because the comfort is real.

The song’s message is rooted in acceptance—recognizing that some goodbyes are healthy, even necessary. The bridge, with its rhythmic phrasing and almost poem-like cadence, adds a burst of catchiness and emotional clarity. It’s a tender, grounded reflection on healing, letting go, and holding gratitude for what once was.

I’ve Seen It

The album’s most sentimental and quietly profound track, “I’ve Seen It” unfolds like a lullaby—gentle, steady, and deeply human. A slow electric guitar leads the way, with soft sliding chords that give it an intimate, storytelling feel reminiscent of “Just the Two of Us.” Dean reflects on all the different forms of love she’s witnessed: the joyful, the messy, the confusing, the disappointing, the lasting, and the kind that fades into memory.

What makes the song so affecting is how she frames love as something universal and cyclical. It’s in our friends, our families, strangers on the street—it shapes us, breaks us, rebuilds us, and gets passed on again. She captures the paradox beautifully: love brings out both the best and the worst in people; sometimes it fills you with warmth, sometimes it ends in heartbreak, and sometimes it’s impossible to put into words at all. But that doesn’t make it any less real.

Dean emphasizes how much we learn about love simply by watching it, especially through our parents, our first role models. The simplicity of the music and lyrics makes the message even more powerful: innocence and truth working together to create something quietly eye-opening and universally relatable.

The refrain—“The more you look, the more you find. It’s all around you, all the time.”—is the emotional center of the album, a reminder that love is not rare or hidden; it’s constantly present if we choose to see it. By the end, Dean leaves you with a gentle but resonant truth: we all carry love inside us, and that in itself is enough.

Closing Reflection

The album closes with a gentle but grounding reminder that romantic love is only one small corner of the bigger picture. As Dean beautifully puts it, “Maybe romantic love isn’t the forefront of your life right now, but love exists in so many forms. It’s in your friendships, it’s in strangers, it’s in your parents… you just need to look for it.” It’s a sentiment that sums up the entire emotional arc of The Art of Loving.

The finale ties together everything the album explores: the pain and confusion of heartbreak, the joy and steadiness of friendship, the comfort of family, the healing that comes from time, and the confidence that grows quietly in the in-between spaces. It’s a project that doesn’t just document love—it teaches you how to see it more clearly.

Ultimately, The Art of Loving lingers because it’s honest, tender, and deeply human. It grows with you, reminds you to pay attention, and reassures you that love is always, always present—all around you, all the time.