By Colin 
Olivia Dean has returned with her second album The Art of Loving, a record that turns the complexity of human connection into something intimate and expansive. Where her debut Messy introduced her as one of the most resonant voices in British soul-pop, this follow-up feels like a deeper excavation. Produced with long-time collaborator Zach Nahome, it stretches across romance, friendship, and self-reflection, circling the idea that love is not an accident but a craft that requires patience and commitment.
From the opening notes, Dean sets a different tone. She resists the urge to burst in with a crowd-pleaser, instead offering a slow, measured beginning that hints at her intent: this is a listening experience designed to be absorbed, not rushed. That confidence reflects an artist willing to trust her audience, and it sets the stage for what follows.
“So Easy (To Fall In Love)” is the anchor, both musically and thematically. Bright rhythms and a joyful vocal delivery make it an instant standout, but its message carries more weight than simple feel-good charm. Dean frames the song as an affirmation, a reminder that love can be abundant if you recognise your own worth. It is no surprise that the track was chosen to lead the record, accompanied by visuals that lean into its optimism.
Elsewhere, the record opens up its emotional range. “Let Alone The One You Love” pairs tender melodies with lyrics that expose fragility, a theme that courses through much of the album. “Close Up” introduces brass flourishes and sharp percussion, its instrumentation amplifying the tension of love that does not quite align. Songs like these show Dean at her most compelling: when the arrangement is carefully placed around her vocal, never overshadowing but instead deepening the atmosphere.
Balancing warmth with vulnerability
What makes The Art of Loving remarkable is its ability to carry warmth while refusing sentimentality. Dean does not pretend love is effortless. In fact, she is explicit about the work it demands. “Baby Steps” is a prime example, where she turns self-love into quiet resilience, promising to be her own safe place. That mixture of hope and realism cuts through the album, preventing it from drifting into easy clichés.
The sequencing keeps the energy fluid without feeling scattered. “Loud” adds texture and grit, while “Lady Lady” drifts into soulful elegance. Previously released singles “Nice To Each Other” and “Man I Need” provide the sharper pop edges, yet they remain woven into the wider narrative rather than standing apart as disconnected hits. By the time “A Couple Minutes” arrives, the pacing has slowed to offer a moment of silence and introspection, which makes the closing track “I’ve Seen It” land with even more weight. That finale glows with gratitude, its reflective tone underscoring the journey of the album rather than drawing a neat conclusion.
Dean herself has described love as a skill, something akin to playing an instrument. That philosophy is audible throughout the record. Her voice bends between soulful intimacy and pop clarity, never oversung, always grounded in control. Nahome’s production respects that restraint, offering arrangements that breathe rather than dominate. Even at its most expansive, the sound never overwhelms her presence.
Lyrically, Dean has sharpened her pen. Lines are often deceptively simple, but carry emotional depth. “I guess I saw something you didn’t,” from “Close Up,” distills the pain of misalignment in a single phrase. “I’ll be my own safe hands” in “Baby Steps” pushes past the worn trope of independence to land as something tender and defiant. This economy of expression is one of her strengths, allowing her songs to linger long after they end.
What prevents The Art of Loving from slipping into safe territory is its refusal to resolve everything. Love remains complicated across these thirteen tracks. There are moments of joy, but also hesitation, weariness, and silence. That balance gives the record a natural honesty. Dean never suggests she has all the answers, only that she is willing to do the work of asking the questions out loud.
Taken as a whole, the album feels less like a collection of singles and more like a chaptered narrative. Each song contributes a shade of colour to the broader portrait, leaving the listener with a sense of having experienced something unfolding rather than a scatter of disconnected stories. It is a progression from her debut in every way: more assured, more expansive, and more willing to embrace contradiction.
With The Art of Loving, Olivia Dean has delivered an album that does not just explore love but inhabits it, flaws and all. It is a patient, thoughtful, and quietly powerful record that will reward anyone willing to sit with its subtleties. At a time when pop often leans on easy hooks and quick resolutions, Dean has crafted something rarer: a work that lingers, unsettles, and ultimately affirms the beauty of love as an ongoing practice.