Whether he’s singing to five fans or 10,000, Dean gets blunt advice from brother Sean

Dean Lewis (left), 37, is a platinum-selling singer-songwriter from Sydney. His younger brother, Sean Loaney, 34, is a videographer who’s told Dean’s story from the beginning and has been at every show for the past eight years.

Dean Lewis (left) and Sean Loaney. “I was backstage going, ‘How do I do this?’,” says Lewis, “and Sean said, ‘You go out there and you take it seriously.’ ”Credit: Wolter Peeters

Sean: I’m not just saying this, but Dean and I have always got along. We’re the middle of four brothers. We went to the same primary and high schools, shared a bunk bed for seven years. It was great, like being in a little club.

We played a lot of video games – a lot of Halo 2. Dad would go, “You’re living half a life; get outside.” But then we won an Australian video games championship in 2005 and got flown to Singapore to represent Australia in the World Cyber Games. We got knocked out by Canada.

We don’t look alike. Some people say we sound the same, but we definitely don’t because, otherwise, I’d have a singing career. Dean’s music kind of came out of nowhere. There were always guitars around at home as a kid. When we were teenagers, you’d hear Dean singing in the bathroom because he liked the acoustics. Just all day long. He had a good voice. I didn’t give him many compliments –brothers don’t do that – but I did tell him he sounded like Pete Murray.

‘Dean’s a lot more emotional than me. He talks. I’m a very closed-off person: I never talk about emotions, ever.’

Sean Loaney

He decided to take the music seriously and kept at it. When [his first single] Waves was released [in 2016], it blew up and was being played everywhere. I was living in London working as a real-estate agent at the time. Dean came to the Netherlands for a seven-date tour in 2017 and asked me if I wanted to come film some content for social media. That was the first time I’d seen music from the side of the stage rather than from the audience. I loved it.

I came on as his official videographer then. I was just using an iPhone 7. Now it’s all proper cameras and lenses and everything. We tour for three months at a time.

Dean’s a lot more emotional than me. He talks. I’m a very closed-off person: I never talk about emotions, ever. The reason he’s called Dean Lewis and not Dean Loaney is because, early on, he was afraid to release music and have people go, “Oh, that’s shit.” He was afraid to be vulnerable. Now he realises it’s not a bad thing; he gets all these messages from people saying, “You’ve helped me get through this.” That’s why, after he’s done a full 80 minutes on stage, he still goes out and meets fans for an hour-and-a-half afterwards. I hate it – I’m tired – but he loves it.

Our dad was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukaemia in 2018. After he went into remission, Dean wrote How Do I Say Goodbye which is probably one of the most amazing songs about losing someone. Dean’s not scared to speak about stuff.

I often think Dean’s working at burnout level. We tell him, “Take a month off.” He’s like, “Yeah, I need to”, then won’t. He’s back at it, writing a new song, sending me a bunch of demos: “What do you reckon? What do you reckon?” Music is an obsession for him.

I’ve been trying to get him back into gaming. The other day, I tried to give him an Xbox, and he said, “No, I don’t have time.” I said, “That’s why I’m trying to give it to you. You need to take the time.”

Dean: Sean was a funny kid growing up. He had a “frullet”, the front mullet. He was a lad, like the chavs in England. He wore a Polo cap and had friends who were troublemakers. But Sean wasn’t a troublemaker: he’s really smart.

When I was 15, we were in our bunk beds, and I was on the phone singing a song to my girlfriend. Sean goes, “You’ve got a really good singing voice. You should try to sing.” You don’t say anything nice when you’re brothers, but it put the seed in my head that I could sing – ’cause if he said it, it must be true.

In 2016, I had this gig at Bushstock Festival in West London. Sean flew over from Australia and we were staying in one room on this council estate. It was cheap and dirty – no sheets on the bed – but it was safe. Sean said, “You take the bed ’cause you have the show tomorrow.” And he slept on the floor. That’s the kind of vibe he has.

Sean Loaney (right) and Dean Lewis in their teens. “I’m not just saying this, but Dean and I have always got along,” says Loaney.

After Waves began to get some success, Sean gave up his job and came on the road and started filming everything. In today’s world, sadly, I’d say it’s 70 per cent marketing, 30 per cent song. When the first album came out, it was more like 80 per cent song. As that’s shifted, Sean’s been capturing and showing the world what we’re doing. He’s told the story.

He’s been the voice of reason from the start. I did a gig in a pub in Portland in 2017 and there were five people in the audience. I was backstage going, “How do I do this?” and Sean said, “You go out there and you take it seriously.”

Even the other day, at a festival in Calgary with 10,000 people, we were complaining about a little thing and he was, “Do you realise how amazing this is? Smarten up. Get your shit together. Let’s give them a show.”

‘Sean’s literally having a hot dog and poutine before we go on stage. I’m having a lemon and ginger tea.’

Dean Lewis

On the road, I’m always worried about things, always anxious. I don’t drink, I get to bed early, I wake up and work out. I want to be able to give a good show, but I don’t live as well. Sean’s always, “You’ve got to enjoy it. Come out with us and have dinner.” I usually ignore him.

Sean enjoys life. He’ll be backstage having what I call his Elvis Diet: Red Bull and a deep-dish pizza. In Calgary, he’s literally having a hot dog and poutine before we go on stage. I’m having a lemon and ginger tea.

At shows, he always brings something back from a fan. A letter they’ve written or a CD of their music. I’m in my head about stuff but he’s always got a heart for the people.

I reckon he worries about me a bit – the stress, working so much. My expectations of myself are ridiculous: I literally have no life.

He gave up his life to become this co-pilot, this quiet A&R [artists and repertoire] man, this quiet member of the band, content creator and behind-the-scenes guy. I owe him. He’s been at every show for the past eight years. It would be super-weird if he wasn’t there.

Dean’s third album, The Epilogue, is out now.

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