LOVA’s ‘It’s Alright’ opens with that scene we’ve all lived through — a boyfriend leaning back on the couch, saying he’s fine, when everything in his face says the opposite. You clock the way he laughs too quickly, the way his jaw tightens when he swears he’s happy, and you know it’s bullshit. That’s exactly what LOVA nails when she sings “You force a smile / And wear it out / Aren’t you getting tired of your disguise.” It’s the armor men throw on when they don’t want to talk, letting the silence carry more weight than the truth. Then she sings “Your eyes can talk / They tell it all / Yeah, I can see you’re hurting from a mile / But you are doing fine,” and it lands like the moment the look that gives everything away. You catch it in the eyes, that flicker that says more than words, but he holds the front anyway. It’s easier to downplay feelings than to admit you’re hurting.
What gets me is how LOVA turns the mirror back on herself. She even admitted it: “I initially started writing this song with someone close to me in mind… but the truth is, I saw pieces of myself in it too.” That’s what makes the song stick—she speaks from a place of raw self-awareness. She’s calling herself out for doing the same shit, settling for “sweet, sweet lies” because it’s easier than admitting you want more. I’ve been there, drunk-texting my ex that I was “great, thanks” when I was actually crying on the floor in my heels. It’s the lie we rehearse until it feels real.
Advertisement
LOVA’s been on the radar since Scripted Reality, when P3 blasted her into Swedish pop royalty and The Guardian and Idolator started name-dropping her. Twenty million streams later, she’s still carving songs that sting with honesty. Produced by Oskar Wildén—the guy who’s worked with Dagny and Tove Styrke—‘It’s Alright’ is smooth electro-pop with just enough restraint that her words hit sharp. The track skips the glitter bomb theatrics and the overblown drop, keeping a steady rhythm that leaves space for the lyrics to breathe, like the silence after an argument when someone finally admits what’s been eating them alive.
The lyrics cut into the fake-smile act we all put on: “Sure, yeah you’re happy / Or maybe you just want it so badly / I see you trying / But it’s alright, alright, alright.” That “alright” is a slap and a hug at once. It’s the way your best friend calls bullshit when you’re saying your man treats you good, even though she can hear the edge in your voice. You wanted it to be real so badly, you let yourself believe it. That’s the ache in this track—it’s about wanting so much more than scraps, but being scared to reach for it.
And then LOVA flips it: “Let it out, get it off of your chest / I’ll be there, name a place and time.” That’s the friend who stays on the call while you’re slurring at 3 a.m., or the hookup who doesn’t bolt when the tears sneak out after sex because the weight finally hits. I’ve been that girl on both ends—the one lying through gritted teeth and the one calling bullshit with tequila breath.
Advertisement
She doesn’t let it stay heavy, though. The song cracks open with hope: “All the best hasn’t come for you yet… Girl you can have it all if you like.” It’s the mantra we should all be screaming into our mirrors before another night out. Stop shrinking, stop playing it safe, stop settling for mid guys and mid jobs and mid nights that don’t make your skin burn. LOVA puts it plain: “The world isn’t meant to be dull and gray when it can be full of color and life.”
What I love most is that it’s sexy in its honesty. Not sexy like lingerie, but sexy like someone finally taking off the mask, dropping the performative shit, and saying exactly what they want. And damn, that hits harder than any one-night stand. The track holds back, stretching every moment instead of pushing for a quick payoff. The beat stays steady and her voice never wavers. When she closes on “those sweet, sweet lies / but it’s alright,” it hits with that sting of recognition. You’ve told those lies. You’ve lived them. And maybe it’s time to stop.
LOVA delivers a soundtrack for when we’re done settling. It’s the song you throw on while wiping your lipstick off in the Uber, realizing you want more than just “alright.”
