Olivia Dean’s “Nice To Each Other” is a beautifully tender and profoundly modern love song about navigating a new connection with caution, honesty, and a desire to rewrite the rules. It is a gentle manifesto that proposes a relationship built not on grand clichés or labels, but on a simple, foundational kindness and a commitment to mutual growth.
The Core Meaning: A New Framework for Modern Love
Released as the second track on her highly anticipated sophomore album, The Art of Loving, “Nice To Each Other” finds British soul singer Olivia Dean perfecting her signature blend of warmth, vulnerability, and quiet wisdom. The song is a heartfelt exploration of the anxieties and hopes that accompany the fragile beginnings of a new romance in the 21st century. Its core meaning is a radical but gentle proposal: to strip away the pressures of traditional dating and build something new from the ground up, starting with the simple, revolutionary act of just being “nice to each other.”
The track is a direct response to a world saturated with performative romance and the heavy weight of relationship labels. Dean’s protagonist is audibly scarred by past failures, expressing a deep disillusionment with “the classic stuff”—the grand declarations and predictable scripts that she has found to be hollow. In its place, she offers a new philosophy of love, one that prioritizes demonstrated affection over spoken words (“Just show it”) and values patient, organic growth over a rushed pursuit of milestones.
At its heart, “Nice To Each Other” is a song about accepting uncertainty and embracing contradiction. It bravely acknowledges that two people can be both “right for each other” and “wrong for each other” at the same time. Instead of fearing this ambiguity, the song finds beauty in it, suggesting that the most profound connections are not about “falling” in love, but about actively choosing to “rise to each other”—to inspire, support, and elevate one another, day by day.
A Generational Anthem: The Rejection of Romantic Clichés
“Nice To Each Other” resonates so deeply because it perfectly captures a distinctly modern, almost generational, anxiety surrounding dating and commitment. In an age of social media, where relationships are often curated into public narratives, and dating apps present an endless paradox of choice, the song’s plea for simplicity and authenticity feels like a breath of fresh air. It taps directly into a widespread weariness with the high-stakes, often disappointing performance of modern romance.
The song’s protagonist is a vessel for this collective fatigue. Her declaration, “‘Cause, you know, I’ve done all the classic stuff / And it never works,” is a mission statement for anyone who has been let down by the fairy tales. “The classic stuff” can be interpreted as the entire suite of romantic clichés: the rushed “I love you,” the pressure to define the relationship (“what are we?”), possessive language, and the expectation to follow a linear path from dating to marriage. Her rejection of these norms is not born from cynicism, but from a genuine desire for something more real and sustainable.
This makes “Nice To Each Other” a quiet but powerful anthem for the commitment-wary. Her blunt admission, “‘Cause I don’t want a boyfriend,” is a perfect expression of the fear of labels. It’s not necessarily a rejection of the person, but a rejection of the baggage, expectations, and potential for failure that the label “boyfriend” carries. The song’s central proposal—to operate on a new set of terms based on simple kindness and demonstrated care—is a revolutionary solution to this very modern dilemma.
The Philosophy of “Rising” in Love: A Mutual Ascent
Perhaps the most profound and enduring concept introduced in “Nice To Each Other” is the lyrical shift from the passive act of “falling” in love to the active, collaborative process of “rising” to each other. This is more than just a clever turn of phrase; it is a complete reframing of the purpose and function of a romantic partnership.
The traditional idiom, “falling in love,” implies a loss of control, an accident, something that happens to you. It’s a passive descent that, while romantic, carries a subtle undertone of helplessness. Olivia Dean’s alternative, “rise to each other,” suggests the complete opposite. It frames love as a conscious choice, a daily practice, and a mutual project of self-improvement. It is an active ascent.
This philosophy suggests that the goal of a relationship is not simply companionship or comfort, but mutual growth. To “rise to each other” means to inspire your partner to be their best self, and to be inspired in turn. It means that the relationship itself becomes a catalyst for becoming more patient, more compassionate, more ambitious, more whole. It is a deeply mature and aspirational view of love, one that sees a partner not just as someone to be with, but as someone to grow with. This concept elevates “Nice To Each Other” from a simple love song to a piece of quiet, soulful wisdom.
Lyrical Breakdown: A Dissection of Hesitant Hope
The song’s lyrics are a delicate dance between vulnerability, self-sabotage, and a hopeful proposal for a better way to love. Each section contributes to a rich portrait of a modern romantic navigating her own fears.
[The Refrain] The Foundational Mantra
The refrain is the song’s ideological core, repeated like a mantra to reinforce its central tenets. Its power lies in its beautiful simplicity and profound complexity. “We could be nice to each other,” the foundational rule, is a plea to return to the most basic form of human decency, suggesting that this simple kindness is the most crucial ingredient of all, and one that is often lost in the drama of modern dating.
The paradoxical couplet, “Wrong for each other / Right for each other,” is a masterful expression of embracing uncertainty. The singer acknowledges that their pairing could be a spectacular failure or a perfect match, and she is willing to proceed without knowing the outcome. It is a rejection of the need for certainty and a celebration of taking a chance. This acceptance of ambiguity is what allows for the final, most important line: “And rise to each other.” It is only by letting go of the fear of being “wrong” for each other that they can create the space to actively help each other grow.
[The Verses] A Portrait of Radical Honesty and Fear
The verses are where the singer’s internal conflict—her desire for connection versus her fear of it—is laid bare. In Verse 1, she admits her pattern of self-sabotage (“Fighting what’s in front of me”) before presenting a hopeful hypothetical: “But if I come to Italy.” Italy, the quintessential setting for romance, represents a significant step, a leap of faith. The entire song is her attempt to negotiate the terms of that leap.
In Verse 2, she engages in a form of radical, self-deprecating honesty, listing her potential flaws: “I don’t know where the switches are… I’ll probably crash your stupid car / And make your life a misery.” This is a classic defense mechanism. By laying out her worst attributes upfront, she is managing his expectations and protecting herself from the possibility of him discovering these flaws later. It is a deeply vulnerable act, a way of saying, “This is the messy, imperfect me. Can you handle it?”
Verse 3 contains her most explicit expression of fear. The metaphor “Meet me on the mountaintop / I’ll be in the shallow end” perfectly illustrates their potentially different levels of emotional readiness. He may be ready for a grand, all-consuming love, but she is still cautiously testing the waters. This fear culminates in the brutally honest admission, “‘Cause I don’t want a boyfriend,” and her expectation that he will “call it off.” It’s a moment of profound vulnerability, revealing that her fear of being hurt is so great, she is already anticipating the end.
[The Chorus] The Gentle Manifesto
The chorus is the singer’s direct proposal, her manifesto for a new kind of relationship, born from the failures of her past. Her disillusionment is clear: “I’ve done all the classic stuff / And it never works.” This is her justification for demanding a different approach. Her central request, “So can we say we’ll never say the classic stuff? / Just show it,” is a plea for a love that is rooted in action, not empty words.
The most beautiful and illustrative part of this manifesto is the organic, nurturing metaphor she uses for their potential relationship: “Water, sunlight, talking all night / Just enough to grow it.” This imagery is powerful. She doesn’t want to force the relationship into a predetermined shape or rush it towards a specific goal. She wants to treat it like a delicate plant, providing it with only the most essential, natural elements—care (“water”), warmth (“sunlight”), and deep connection (“talking all night”)—and then simply allowing it to grow at its own pace. It is a philosophy of patience, gentleness, and profound trust in the natural process of connection.