Review: Mariah the Scientist Fights for Love on Hearts Sold Separately

Mariah the Scientist’s music is an experiment in self-examination. The studio is her lab, a space where, over three projects, the former St. John’s biology major has dissected herself and her relationships from every angle. On Hearts Sold Separately, she rises from beneath the harsh glare of surgical lights that once exposed every wound and scar on songs like “Spread Thin” and “Beetlejuice” serving as case studies in emotional vulnerability. Here, she sutures the past and prepares for the fight of her life: the war for love, as depicted on the album’s cover.

Hearts Sold Separately is among her strongest work because Mariah sings with the sincerity of someone not broken by her past, but strengthened by it. Vulnerability isn’t her weakness—it’s her weapon. The toy soldier imagery on the cover drives that home: pink, plastic, and saluting. But as she’s explained, the symbolism runs deeper than aesthetics. "Some people regard you as a toy and don’t take you serious," she said in a recent interview. “Even though you represent something extremely important—especially to you.”

Hearts Sold Separately album cover.

In a world that equates power with money, respect with detachment, and love with weakness, Hearts Sold Separately is Mariah’s rebuttal. The soldier’s outfit isn’t a costume. It’s a warning label. This album is an unapologetic, tender, ‘80s-soaked battle cry for all the lovers out there.

Pressing play on the album feels like opening a portal to the past. Mariah’s vision of R&B and love diverges from modern production tropes. Much of Hearts Sold Separately sounds like an old cassette unearthed from a shoebox in your parents’ closet. She sets the tone on “Sacrifice,” bleeding with ethereal nostalgia. The minimalist vaporware jam glows just enough to suffuse her restrained, yet passionate vocals with warmth.

"Sacrifice" by Mariah the Scientist

Echoing the 1980s in 2025 is a striking, if not strategic, choice. That decade had its own conservative TV-star-turned-president, escalating nuclear tensions that sparked fears of World War III, and a boom in consumerism that left many behind. It was a time when power was loud, so the fight for love was harder. That’s why “Sacrifice” feels like such a radical statement, as she sings, “Ain’t nothing that I wouldn’t give / All my love and even earthly gifts.” In a dating culture driven by aesthetics and options, Mariah is rejecting the commodification of connection. She refuses to view love as disposable.

Capitalism has cheapened romance. It’s turned dating into a kind of shopping: try it on, snap a picture for IG, discard it if the fit doesn’t flatter or garner the desired attention. Mariah’s intimate offering is in defiance of a culture more consumed by the aesthetics of love than the practice. While swiping culture promises a better match is out there, Mariah knows the grass isn’t always greener, committing to one:  “To the others, hope you can forgive me / Found another and now here’s the ending.” She reminds us that love can’t be bought. It’s not transactional, but it does require sacrifice.

Mariah waves her white flag and surrenders to a higher power on the moody “United Nations + 1000 Ways to Die.” The former finds her seeking salvation: “Forgive us for the fuss and fighting… Lord, send me some good vibrations now / Help me to unite these nations now.” The second half disperses the fog of war with shimmering, dreamy production, balancing tension with softness.

The anatomy of most of Mariah’s past work leaned into modern R&B’s repetition-heavy formulas, creating vibey loops without much progression. But here, she reintroduces the structural DNA of 1980s songwriting: the bridge. “Eternal Flame” is fueled by one, capturing the spark of a relationship that’s ended but the flame refuses to die. The metaphor began earlier on the Prince-inspired lead single “Burning Blue,” an instant classic and her biggest career hit to date, topping Billboard’s rhythmic airplay chart and reaching  25 on the Hot 100. Another early glimpse into the album that carried the torch of emotional rebellion against the status quo was  “Is It A Crime” ft. Kali Uchis, which received our in-depth review here. 

Each track flows seamlessly into the next, forming a sonic body that is confident and intentional in the story it’s telling. “Rainy Days” stands among her best. The quiet storm production envelops you in cascading background vocals and drizzling instrumentation. Mariah meditates on a lover who left when things got tough: “Is it possible you thought it’d never be rainy days?” 

"Rainy Days" by Mariah the Scientist

Like a child unboxing a toy only to find it requires assembly, Mariah critiques a consumerist approach to love, one that assumes functionality without effort. It’s a devastating metaphor: the belief that love is prepackaged and self-sustaining, when in truth it demands care, time, and energy to build.

On Hearts Sold Separately, Mariah stands tall on the battlefield of love without a training manual or instructions. She knows love can’t be bought or programmed, yet she struggles for it, engaging in righteous warfare. She survives as lovers so often do: by turning her fight into a collection of stirring, powerful art.

PRESSED PICKS

1. Sacrifice

2. United Nations + 1000 Ways to Die

3. Eternal Flame

4. Rainy Days

5. No More Entertainers

Bonus (the singles): Burning Blue

Is It A Crime ft. Kali Uchis