B-Side Guys

Olivia Dolphin calls her sound “witch-pop”—orchestral rock with grit, unafraid of darkness, treating live performance as modern spellcasting. Her 2024 album Better delivered piano-driven bangers that earned New England Music Awards and regional acclaim. All The Time We Spent pulls back from that energy. Five tracks, softer edges, heavier orchestration. The Providence artist examines small moments that become sacred: dirty martini dregs, jam-stained crumbs, the text you’ve been waiting for. This EP asks whether relationships justify their cost. Each song answers differently.

“Cross” opens with one of Dolphin’s highest belts on record, the EP’s most explosive moment arriving first. The sequencing choice signals intent—she’s establishing range before pulling into intimacy. The orchestral arrangements here showcase producer Emma Newton’s ambition, strings and woodwinds building density that her band can’t replicate live. Dolphin studied classical flute at URI before pivoting to songwriting, merging poetry with music. That background surfaces throughout, piccolo and flute woven into arrangements alongside Jackie Scott’s cello and Fiona Wood’s violin.

“Do You See It Too?” masquerades as a love song before revealing its actual subject: friendships that witness crushes. The misdirection works because Dolphin understands that romantic feelings often matter less than who sees you experiencing them. The track captures that specific intimacy—not between you and your crush but between you and the friend who watches you stumble through it. Charlie Larson’s clarinet and bass clarinet add texture without overwhelming Luke Leheny’s guitar work.

“I… I…” documents communication breakdown, written when Dolphin felt she “couldn’t say anything right.” The title itself stutters, capturing those moments before trying again. The orchestral and string arrangements give fans the studio version they couldn’t get at shows, Dolphin and Newton finally realizing the full scope she’d imagined. The song explores that specific frustration of knowing what you mean but mangling delivery, the breath you take before resetting. Sam Jaksa’s drums provide steadiness against vocal hesitation.

“Lost” shifts into quieter territory, the single that introduced this project’s softer approach. Written during deep sadness, the track examines how love and loss define each other through sparse production and Luke Leheny’s improvised acoustic guitar. Dolphin reads horoscopes, expecting worst fears, shakes magic 8-balls, demanding specific answers. The spiritual practices she incorporates—astrology, tarot—function as mirrors for understanding rather than actual divination. “What is love without loss, and what is loss without love?” she asks. The question doesn’t resolve.

“Storm Warning” closes the EP with the self-awareness that defined Better, Dolphin’s comfort zone. After four tracks exploring different relationship angles, ending on introspection feels appropriate. Jeff Kidd’s harmonica and Johnny McMahon’s bass anchor the track while Bradford Krieger’s mastering maintains clarity across all five songs.

The EP’s central question—”Was it worth it, in the end? All the time we spent?”—receives multiple answers depending on which track you ask. “Cross” suggests intensity justifies cost. “Do You See It Too?” values witnessing over outcomes. “I… I…” questions whether communication failure means relationship failure. “Lost” accepts that endings don’t erase meaning. “Storm Warning” turns inward rather than outward for answers.

Dolphin has described wanting music to function as Big Sister—perspective, advice, connection to something larger than yourself. The witch-pop framework supports this. She believes making live music is spellcasting, audiences and performers creating magic together. It’s a community-driven practice rather than simply a solo performance, which explains her band’s centrality to her process. She brings songs expecting they’ll stay acoustic; they transform them into orchestral rock.

At five tracks, All The Time We Spent maintains focus without overstaying. The brevity serves the material—these are captured moments, not comprehensive statements. Dolphin’s hyperspecificity creates universality: everyone recognizes their own jam-stained crumbs, their own waiting-for-texts, their own questioning whether time invested justified outcomes.

Providence’s New England scene embraced her: Battle of the Bands winner, Motif Awards, five NEMA nominations, including Album of the Year. The community wants to hear from everyone, artist and audience. Dolphin reflects that magic back. This EP may be shorter than Better, but it’s packed: musically through orchestral ambition, lyrically through specific imagery, emotionally through vulnerability she hadn’t shown before. After a year of momentum, she chose stillness. The decision reveals different strength—not everything requires bangers. Sometimes intimacy cuts deeper.