Album art by Alex Tillbrook
Style: Alternative metal, alt-pop, djent (mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: bruh it’s Sleep Token; VOLA meets Hozier plus, er, like, Imagine Dragons?
Country: United Kingdom
Release date: 9 May 2025
Today, in a special double review, Ian and Christopher take on the latest release by the biggest and perhaps most controversial band in the genre. Even in Arcadia, there are people arguing about Sleep Token!
Review by: Ian
I believe it was Sir Isaac Newton who said that “every sudden wave of hype produces an equal and opposite backlash”, and perhaps no other band today exemplifies that definitely real adage quite like Sleep Token. It’s strange to look back on the days of their initial rise, how this weird djent/R&B band from London with a Ghost-esque masking gimmick and an unusually skilled drummer exploded out of seemingly nowhere in early 2023 with a set of increasingly buzzed-about singles, culminating in the release of their blockbuster third album, Take Me Back To Eden. The countervailing surge of hatred was equally sudden, though in hindsight, not surprising. Heralded (though by no means solely initiated) by Anthony Fantano’s withering 2/10 panning of the album, they rapidly became the very definition of “uncool”1, with many eagerly seizing upon Sleep Token‘s often unapologetically poppy songwriting and straightforward djent riffs as evidence of them being “not metal”2—a fake, pop band that you’d have to be some terminal poseur / Imagine Dragons fan / big dumb mouthbreathing coworker NPC to enjoy.
And look, I’m not gonna sit here and tell you those criticisms were entirely baseless. TMBTE‘s attempts at straightforward pop music were indeed plasticky and unconvincing, burying Vessel’s otherwise interesting vocal timbre under suffocating layers of Autotune. And sure, much of the guitarwork felt far too basic to be sitting alongside II’s intricate, fluid drumming. But somehow… I still really liked it, dammit! For all its flaws, the album was a genuine evolution of the Sleep Token sound, an ambitious, widescreen expansion into more adventurous song structuring and genre switches with some seriously powerful, emotionally resonant melodic hooks. It’s not exactly topping my Album of the Year list, but there are people who act like this band is soulless nothing slop with zero redeeming qualities, and… I feel like we didn’t hear the same album.
But where does this leave us now? Well, Sleep Token sure as hell aren’t upstarts anymore. They’re one of the biggest bands in modern rock, possibly the biggest to come up this decade, with a massive, frighteningly devoted legion of fans and a nearly-as-vocal coalition of detractors. Thus, it was inevitable that their follow-up album, Even In Arcadia, would have massive expectations set upon it, for good and ill alike. And in terms of meeting those expectations, seven-plus minute opener “Look to Windward” is one hell of an initial salvo. Starting off with a slow burn of atmospheric, almost chiptune-esque synths beneath Vessel’s trademark croon before a barrage of pummeling guitars abruptly takes over, it comes across as a full-on showcase of every established part of the band’s sound. It’s got intricate drumming, simple yet gargantuan-sounding riffs, rattling trap percussion, and a vocal performance that ranges from smooth, cocky R&B verses to delicate, harmonized falsettos to withering, blackened screams—as if to say “We’re still Sleep Token and we can still do Sleep Token things, and do them damn well.” While it’s unlikely to convert any skeptics, it’s one of the best executions of their usual sound yet, and a reassuring reminder that their core competencies are still very much in place.
With the formula firmly re-established in the space of a single song, it’s time to sprinkle in some surprises, and that’s where subsequent song (and lead single) “Emergence” comes in. Its verses are some of the most rhythmically interesting stuff they’ve put out possibly ever, with II’s percussion sinuously twisting around some already rather syncopated vocal lines in a deliciously off-kilter clash, constantly teasing at downbeats that don’t quite arrive until the beautifully melodic choruses show up to dissipate the tension. Combine that with the gorgeous, delightfully surprising saxophone coda3 provided by Bilmuri‘s Gabi Rose, and you have yet more evidence that Sleep Token are still a decidedly progressive band despite their mainstream appeal. They’re prog in the same way that bands like Bent Knee are prog, not by having the wackiest time signatures or the weedliest solos, but by blending pop stylings with pieces of disparate genres to create a bold, adventurous sound full of stylistic and compositional left turns that defies easy categorization or comparison.
And it’s a damn good thing we’ve got that evidence, too, since unfortunately, Even In Arcadia‘s midsection gives plenty of signs that the prog gatekeepers may kinda have a point. While it’s all very competent, with some dutifully pleasant melodies and titanic, IMAX-ready chugs as per usual, much of tracks 3-8 feels like Sleep Token by the numbers, with precious few of the surprises that made previous songs like “The Summoning” so special. Tracks like “Dangerous” and “Provider” capably ratchet up the musical intensity from synthy atmosphere to elastic trap beats to stadium-filling guitar, but do little else with their musical structure, coming off a tad forgettable. The title track tries its best to be the type of achingly vulnerable piano ballad that they’ve done so well in the past, but is sabotaged by suffocating layers of movie-trailer overproduction, with only Vessel’s desperate, gritty final line managing enough emotional heft to strike a genuine chord through all the sludge. Most egregious is “Past Self”, a decent-yet-straightforward R&B snoozefest whose only surprise is that there are no surprises—no riffs, no genre mixing, just a synth arpeggio that could be coming out of a kid’s toy replica of a Legend of Zelda fairy fountain. Sure, there are bright spots—”Caramel” is a lyrically wrenching look at what it’s like to be on the receiving end of a ravenously parasocial fanbase, elevated by II’s drumming at its absolute crispest—but even that is undercut by “Provider” being a blatant wink and nudge toward the most fanatical, BookTok-horny elements of said parasocial fanbase just two songs later.
Thankfully, the last two tracks do a fair deal to right the ship. “Gethsemane” easily ranks up there with Sleep Token‘s absolute best tracks, spinning its soft, emotionally resonant falsetto intro into a shockingly intricate, mathy Midwest emo guitar riff, a long-awaited step up in complexity to stand side by side with the band’s drumming. Add in a chorus that reprises “Euclid”, quite possibly the most powerful, indelible chorus the band have ever written, and you’ve got me wondering where the hell this energy was for the past few tracks. Maybe it’s my inner sappy theater kid, but these melodramatic hooks still hit me straight in the heart no matter how overblown others may find them, and closer “Infinite Baths” keeps that streak going with aplomb. Its deliciously weepy, harmonized slow build into its gargantuan chorus is the sort of shit I eat right up, and the Pink Floyd reference in its atmospheric bridge was a fun touch. I’m a bit more mixed on its heavy closing section; though a final dose of aggression is certainly welcome in an album that is, on the whole, softer than its predecessor, it also feels like it’s spinning its wheels a tad, fading out without giving a proper conclusion.
“I know these chords are boring, but I can’t always be killing the game,” sings Vessel in “Damocles”, an apropos quote from a wildly inconsistent album in which, more than ever, the band’s aura of cult-like mysticism comes off as a thinly veiled metaphor for one decidedly mortal man’s insecurities and broken relationships. Sleep Token feel increasingly caught between contradictory impulses—the drive to innovate and push their sound forward versus the pressure to push out more of the same stuff that made them popular in the first place, the need to appease their suddenly massive fanbase versus the fear of said fans getting a little too into their music, the divine and spiritual versus the human body’s base desires… the acid versus the alkaline, one might say. The public, too, has been utterly polarized; as before, the fans of this band are going to hear an entirely different album than the haters. Yet, this time, I can hear both albums in equal measure, the innovative, heartfelt brilliance heard by the faithful existing alongside the dull, focus-grouped glurge that reaches the ears of the apostates. Perhaps this is a tightrope that Vessel and co. can continue to walk well enough, but as someone who was largely on the believers’ side beforehand, this represents a troubling shift. If it all looks like heaven but feels like hell… maybe you’re just in purgatory.
Ian’s final verdict: 6.5/10
Review by: Christopher
Metal has always suffered from a streak of elitism, bearded gatekeepers daring to pronounce upon what’s metal and what’s not, and the genre has always picked out enemies to pile upon. Avenged Sevenfold were roundly mocked for their hard rock sensibilities and emo aesthetic, virtually all of nu-metal was the subject of derision both deserved and unwarranted, and if you trust the people at Metal-Archives.com—and you shouldn’t—even prog stalwarts Between the Buried and Me are apparently not metal. The latest band to be stood in the corner and made to face the wall for their vnkvlt ways are Sleep Token, the bemasked UK group fronted by the anonymous Vessel, who claims to be the Earthly representative for an ancient deity called Sleep. The band’s amalgamation of djenting riffs, Hozier-grade sadboi pop, and libidinous RnB gloss has been met with cult-like fervour and impassioned denunciation in equal measure. Whether Sleep Token are or aren’t a) metal, b) progressive or c) good is—just like their deranged lore and Instagram posts that always begin with “Hark!” “Behold”—a matter of debate to be resolved by people who don’t wash. The band’s actual function within the musical ecosystem is a simple and time-tested one: plausible deniability for the alternative kids to claim they don’t like mainstream music while listening to something clearly deeply inspired by mainstream music and so popular in and of itself that it is, in fact, mainstream.
Now, the blend of djent, mournful pop and hip-hop that Sleep Token peddle has, admittedly, never quite worked for me—I’m the dissenting voice in this double review, after all4—but on fourth album Even in Arcadia, the band have clearly lost their lustre. This Place Will Become Your Tomb was a solid work of alternative metal with a pop sheen, and the marriage of the two styles was fully consummated, carried with a poise similar to that of Denmark’s VOLA. Arcadia’s relationship with metal, however, is that of a checked-out divorced father visiting his kids every other weekend: he turns up, eventually, smelling strongly of whisky and he’s really phoning it in on this whole fatherhood thing. An unfortunately large percentage of Arcadia is Vessel’s self-pitying croons over generic RnB beats and enigmatically banal synths. When the band remember they have to include riffs in order to keep the charade alive, they’re dreadfully shoehorned.
After a pretty successful opening number, “Emergence” settles into the banality which will come to plague Arcadia—even in Arcadia they have banality! Ancient deity Sleep has caught up with the noughties hip-hop scene, and he’s decided that his human conduit on Earth should communicate thusly. “Emergence” still has some Riffs and is a bit more compositionally finessed than the real duds in the latter half, but the, ahem, emergence of phat beats and Vessel’s generic RnB flow telegraph Arcadia’s imminent problems. Oh, and there’s a saxophone solo which appears with all the grace of a guest contribution that makes you go “oh, and there’s a saxophone solo”, possessed of a rather thin, midi-ish tone which did make me wonder if a saxophonist actually played on the record—it’s Gabi Rose and she does, and does so well, it’s the way that sax solo is mixed which I find strange to the ear (the violin solo on the title track, however, has no such credit and, therefore, may be synthesised). “Past Self” and “Caramel” lean into the type of quintessentially white hip-hop that’s plagued pop from the Backstreet Boys through Justin Timberlake all the way to post-Post Malone. The greater sin of “Caramel” is that it veers, without justification, into a heavier section with backing screams that seem completely out of place. And this happens over and over on Arcadia: Sleep Token are happy to practically stop a song so they can wedge in a requisite metal section. The riffs are no longer executed with the enthusiasm of the previous records, and there’s little energy expended to ensure the heavier and lighter elements blend smoothly.
The more pop-centric tracks on older records still had heft: “Mine” built post-rock fashion from its jaunty synth motif into a thickly-riffed climax; the chant of “The Love You Want” was eventually accompanied in its final chorus by Car Bomb-esque wonky djent; and “Granite” allowed a thrumming eight string low-end to counter its otherwise typical poppiness. Frequently, the “heavy parts” on Arcadia’s offerings tend toward the strumming of thicc but generic bass lines in the chorus—at least on “Damocles”, Vessel has the self-awareness to admit “I know these chords are boring.” On “Gethsemane”, Sleep Token remember they were meant to record guitar parts, leading to Intervals-esque noodling that is at least engaging but feels a touch out of place. Still, this track tries out some ideas beyond the usual formula, be it Vessel’s frequent and rather refreshing utilisation of falsetto, or a bit of rhythmic start-stop in the choruses, and some better integrated djenting—even if all that is for naught when he ends up going back to the dull ol’ mid-tempo RnB. The problem is that while it wouldn’t be prudent or relevant to speculate as to Vessel’s race, his hip-hop credentials are akin to the average white middle manager’s. His flow, such as it is, barely varies, watering down every song it touches to one uninteresting idea.
Refrains, meanwhile, are hammered home with desperate repetition, as if the band know that there are no true hooks here. How many times can you listen to a man repeat “So go ahead and wrap your arms around me, arms around me, arms around me” before you stick a butter knife in an electrical socket? Ignore my frazzled, smoking hair. Vessel’s rhyme scheme is steeped in a hip-hop flow but delivered like a sad giant workshopping his first ever diss track. Also, I don’t understand (and certainly don’t care to dig into) the lyrical themes. Supposedly, the band is centred around this eldritch terror called Sleep and is speaking His gospel, but most of Sleep Token’s lyrics are universal-yet-neutered paeans to a litany of situationships. Either Sleep Token is a failed sex cult run by a man lacking the raw sexual charisma of the late L. Ron Hubbard or Vessel is writing fanfic for his own “I’m being topped by an eldritch god”5 stories. Neither prospect is appealing.
Now, those of you rooting for the prosecution in this double review will be baying for blood. But I can’t deny that Even in Arcadia has a handful of compelling moments: the tense build into the metal drop on opening number “Look to Windward” is skilfully done, even if the middle third of the track turns into a fifth-rate OneRepublic6 mimic. “Emergence” might not be inspired but it feels more like “classic” Sleep Token and has a sense of composition lacking elsewhere. Closing track “Infinite Baths”, despite the silly title, is the clear standout—indeed, Sleep Token have form for bookending their albums strongly. The build around halfway through the track sees string swells leading into a succession of actually thought-through djent riffs which are, again, compelling in a way that so much of Arcadia isn’t. Sleep Token understand tension and release. It’s one of their great strengths, and yet this album is almost devoid of it.
With a little metal for the sake of keeping up appearances, Even in Arcadia leans harder into a sort of noughties hip-hop vibe that’s as purposeless as it is irritating. Vessel sings another round of curiously sexless erotic laments that are sure to keep his fans doxxing him, but the shtick is getting tired, and Sleep Token sound spent. The group’s cult-like fandom won’t notice the misstep, but this is a curiously uninspired outing for a band who, whether you consider them metal or not, are undeniably the biggest artist in the modern scene. Are Sleep Token metal? Who cares. The question you should be asking is “Am I getting old?” and you’re not gonna like the answer.
Christopher’s final verdict: 4/10
Recommended tracks: Look to Windward, Emergence, Gethsemane, Infinite Baths
You may also like: Sermon, Rendezvous Point, Intrascendence
Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Official Website | YouTube | Facebook | Instagram
Label: RCA Records – Facebook | Official Website
Sleep Token is:
– Vessel (vocals, keyboards, guitars)
– II (drums)
With guests:
– Gabi Rose (saxophone on “Emergence”)
- This very site is no exception, as is readily evidenced by the review accompanying mine. Enjoying these guys’ music is, shall we say, a… minority opinion around here. ↩︎
- As someone who strongly views genre as something artists do rather than something they are, this whole debate perplexes me. I will simply say that Sleep Token are unambiguously a band that does metal, sometimes, and whether they spend a sufficiently large percentage of their runtime doing it to “be” metal will be left as an exercise for the people who actually give a shit. ↩︎
- My fellow writer Andy called this part “cliche”, a take I would expect from someone who listens to car alarms and shrimp noises in his free time. ↩︎
- Oh, you thought Ian’s 6.5 was mean? Just you wait. ↩︎
- Vessel might top or they might take it in turns. Let it never be said that this blog isn’t sex positive. ↩︎
- Remember OneRepublic? They released that one album, Dreaming Out Loud, in 2007. The most successful single was “Apologize” which Timbaland remixed. “Stop and Stare” was good, too. Then they disappeared and never made music again, or so I assumed until researching for this review which led me to the baffling discovery that they have 53 million Spotify monthly listeners and released their sixth album last year. Who the fuck is listening to OneRepublic in 2025?! ↩︎
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