Olivia Dean – The Art Of Loving: Fleeting First Encounters & The Pitfalls of Craving

‘Something lost and something gained’, the flittering ghost that lies in the background of the album. I’d expected it to be the hurt, the vulnerability of chance encounters turned love stories, but instead of Dean haunting her own record, she placed herself at the centre. 

Before I ramble on about the bittersweet tang of summer, the sunlight on linen sheets, and the flowers slowly wilting in my window, there’s an undeniable respect in for Dean’s progression into neo-soul, and Motown themes scattered throughout the album. Whilst there is a shift into the soft sheen of pop, I find at points, that we lose the earlier contemporary twists of R&B that defined Olivia Dean’s initial discography. However, to say that it’s lost entirely is a crime against the ever-groovy ‘Man I Need‘, which harnessed the talent of Tobias Jesso Jr, a pop mastermind in the modern age. 

The lilting, breezy ‘Lady Lady’, is a crooning success lingering in your mind for days. The rattling drums, and looping choir assemble around jazz roots which take on a life of their own in a subtle balancing act of Dean’s vocals and her ensemble. There’s an operatic drama scattered in ‘Close Up’, a Winehouse-reminiscent track, my certain favourite, punctuated by brassy medleys, breezy guitars and a moody disposition that lurches from sulky vigour to gleaming choruses, feeling as if Dean herself is echoing in the room next door.  

Reminiscing on past lovers, and past ladies who sing of them, Olivia cries out in ‘So Easy To Fall In Love’, a clear nod to The Supremes’ light demeanour, in a cheeky, playful turn into casual revelry. A song spinning around the gaps between love, in the beauty of singledom and the hopeful excitement of the next story unfolding. By now, it’s clear that Dean’s lessons on the Art Of Loving aren’t for the heartbreaks and honeymoons of today, but on the importance of craving solitude, instead of falling into loneliness. ‘Let Alone The One You Love’ has a bossa nova lilt, bathed in warm sincerity, dipping away from brazen fun to an introspective search into the complexities of human relationships. 

Tenderly, Olivia Dean moves between these two worlds of idealistic 20s dating, of stupidly ridiculous first date encounters to be told over cheap drinks, hand in hand with girls you grew up with, into a vicious cycling theme of self realisation and obsession. In what feels like glancing over your own diary, the pitted familiarity is stark, the reaching sunshine days against the wading nights spent in the pitfalls of poor conversation. The thunderously standout ‘Loud’, falls into a pocket of intimacy, with orchestral backing that raises the undercurrent of hurt in the album into the epicentre. The moments of calm that seemed, at a point, to be a relief, become sound chambers for vulnerability. 

We see Dean find her way back into herself in ‘Baby Steps’, whilst still reaching for closure, the funky drums, and outstretched positivity elevate the tone of the album back into its retro-soul that made her debut album, Messy (2023) such a hit. The cinematic kick into ‘A Couple Minutes’ is an aching moment with soulful roots, breathing life into the softer end of the album, and thematically far away from the dancier tracks. Final song ‘I’ve Seen It’, is a lullaby in which Dean finds herself at the end of her understanding, the heavy anticipation for this album has swarmed the first singles, and simply put, Dean puts aside external expectations in her own relief to let go of wondering, and settle into a peaceful shape. 

Words by Millie Cain.