Love makes you stupid. This album knows that — and loves you anyway.
Out today, Olivia Dean’s The Art of Loving is a luminous, emotionally rich follow-up to Messy, and it somehow manages to feel both deeply personal and universally true. It’s the musical equivalent of lying awake at 2am, replaying everything you said and didn’t say. Warm and devastating in equal measure. Gentle in sound, sharp in feeling. Full of those painfully specific lines that leave you on read by your own emotions.
From the very first 40-second opener, Olivia sets the tone: “Something lost and something gained, in the art of loving.” It’s peaceful, it’s serene, and it’s so Olivia Dean. What follows is a deeply human exploration of all the little heartbreaks that come with dating in your twenties: the awkward almosts, the situationships, the slow realisation that someone isn’t who you needed them to be. It’s romantic in the realest way, not just candlelight and kisses, but disappointment, vulnerability, and the courage it takes to start again.
There are moments of joy too, ‘Nice To Each Other’ is light and playful, a bubbly reminder that not every connection has to go deep to feel good. But even the upbeat tracks carry that emotional caution, the fear of getting too close, because you know what it feels like when someone pulls away.
And she goes there. ‘Close Up’ is one of the most quietly gutting moments on the album, capturing that exact emotional limbo where you thought something real was starting, only to be met with silence. “I guess I saw something you didn’t,” she sings, like she’s admitting the truth to herself for the first time.
There’s a shift when ‘Let Alone The One You Love’ hits, and suddenly it’s not about wanting someone back. It’s about wanting yourself back. That track is a quiet mic drop. A message to anyone who’s ever dimmed their light for someone else. She sings, “If you knew me at all, you wouldn’t try to keep me small”, and that’s the heartbeat of this entire record. It’s about love, yes. But more importantly, it’s about what you do after love. How you build yourself back.
The writing is beautiful throughout — poetic without being cryptic, personal without being self-indulgent. And Olivia’s voice? Effortlessly expressive, always sitting right in that pocket between softness and strength. She doesn’t belt. She doesn’t need to.
‘Something In Between’ is a standout, a track that somehow captures both the cling and the letting go. “I’m not his, I’m not hers, I’m not yours. Can we still be something in-between?” It’s basically the avoidant attachment anthem, and we should all be worried about how relatable it is.
But the most powerful moment might just be ‘Baby Steps’, where she sings, “I’ll be my own pair of safe hands.” That’s the quiet centre of the record. This isn’t just about finding love. It’s about finding yourself after love. About slowly, gently rebuilding, even when no one’s watching.
By the time we get to the closer, ‘I’ve Seen It’, Olivia zooms out. She stops picking apart past relationships and offers something bigger: belief. Not in a fairytale ending, but in the idea that love; real, good, honest love exists. “I guess it’s been inside me all along,” she sings. And there it is. The whole album, summed up in one line.
Because yes, it’s about heartbreak and hope and every weird grey area in between, but at its core, this is an album about choosing you.
And I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:
2026 is the year of Olivia Dean.
Olivia Dean has a big year of touring next year, grab your tickets now before they sell out:
UK & Europe tickets | NZ & Australia tickets
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