Olivia Audiophile Selection by Olivia Ong: A Soft, Dreamy Escape You Didn’t Know You Needed
Let’s get one thing straight—this album isn’t trying to reinvent the wheel. It’s not some edgy, experimental pop explosion or a chart-topping banger factory. Nope. Olivia Audiophile Selection is more like that cozy blanket you wrap yourself in after a long day. Released back in 2014 under Incense Records (how chill does that even sound?), this Japanese gem from Olivia Ong feels like a warm hug for your ears. With its ballad-heavy vibe and smooth-as-butter production, it’s an easy listen that somehow sticks with you.
The lineup of musicians here is no joke either. You’ve got Jorge Helder on acoustic bass laying down grooves so subtle they sneak up on you, Cristóvão Bastos tickling piano keys like he invented jazz, and Toshiyuki Kasuga adding just enough percussion to keep things interesting without stealing the spotlight. And then there’s Olivia herself—her voice floats over everything like honey drizzled on toast. Sweet but not cloying, simple yet deeply satisfying.
Now, let’s zoom in on two tracks because honestly, who has time to talk about all 14? First up: "Fly Me To The Moon." Oh man, if you think you’ve heard this song before, well, yeah, you probably have—but not like this. Olivia takes this classic and gives it her own twist, turning it into something intimate, almost whispered. It’s less “take me to outer space” and more “let’s sit on the porch swing and stare at the stars.” Shah Tahir’s guitar work adds this delicate shimmer that makes the whole thing feel otherworldly. By the end, I found myself humming along, wondering why I ever doubted cover songs could feel fresh again.
Then there’s "The Girl From Ipanema." If you don’t know this tune, are you even human? But here’s the kicker—Olivia slows it waaaay down, stripping away any hint of kitsch. Asaka Igarashi’s cello adds this rich, melancholic undertone that makes the track feel less like a beachside stroll and more like a quiet moment of reflection. It’s hauntingly beautiful, like catching a glimpse of someone walking away and knowing you’ll never see them again. Weirdly emotional for such a laid-back song, right?
What really stands out about this album is how unapologetically chill it is. There’s no forced drama, no desperate attempt to grab your attention. Instead, it invites you in, lets you stay awhile, and leaves you feeling lighter when you leave. Sure, some might call it background music, but I’d argue it’s the kind of background music that quietly becomes the main event without you realizing it.
Here’s the kicker though—listening to this record made me wonder: do we undervalue calmness in art these days? In a world obsessed with loudness and spectacle, Olivia Ong reminds us that sometimes, the most powerful moments come wrapped in softness. Or maybe she’s just really good at making sleepy playlists. Either way, count me in.
