Words by Sam Wolstenholme
The price of fame. The cult of celebrity. The weight of the mask. And the yearning to finally find home.
Arcadia (noun): “a mountainous region of ancient Greece, traditionally known for the contented pastoral innocence of its people; any real or imagined place offering peace and simplicity.”
The Cinderella story of anonymous alt-metal collective Sleep Token follows a trajectory that any musician in a niche genre can only dream about. In the lead-up to the release of their third studio album ‘Take Me Back To Eden’, the band became a viral sensation overnight, achieving dizzying heights of success that has since seen them consistently sell out stadiums worldwide and attain a cult-like following akin to that of Slipknot. ‘Take Me Back To Eden’ itself went on to win multiple awards including Top Hard Rock Album for the Billboard Music Awards, and was Spotify’s highest-streamed metal album of 2023. Now, after strategically revealing the follow-up release through a series of enigmatic games and clues left for fans to solve, Sleep Token have unleashed their latest and most authentic offering ‘Even In Arcadia’, which is set to fuel the already blazing flame of their glory. Yet all that glitters is not gold. With this release, these megastars invite us to consider that what may appear to be a dream come true on the surface is, in reality, so much more complex and fraught than we could imagine.
In opening track Look To Windward, we begin, curiously, with a gentle, lilting 8-bit synth line that is soon joined by Vessel’s arresting baritone which trembles with a deeper sense of pleading vulnerability than was present even in previous releases. The repeated line “Will you haunt this eclipse in me?” sets the tone for the intensely personal journey we, the listeners, are about to undertake. After an aching 3.5 minute slow burn of this sparse instrumentation, the full band crashes in, forming a colossal wall of sound, and the effect is spellbinding. The RnB flavours that Sleep Token have increasingly woven into their sound appear in this track, contrasting deliciously with flashes of jazz piano until it gradually builds to the final climactic 30 seconds of crushingly low guitar chugs and a feral scream from Vessel.
Emergence, the first single released off the album, follows this. Vessel turns in a distinctly breathier, silky vocal performance with shimmering harmonies underscored by sweet piano chords and clean guitars, until we’re thrust into hypnotic, distorted chants of “Go ahead, wrap your arms around me” alternating with assertive hip hop-driven verses and grand, anthemic choruses. And who can forget that sensuous sax solo at the end. These guys really take genre-bending to the next level, yet it’s executed with such precision, freshness and innovation.
Past Self is the poppiest offering on the record, with an almost childlike, bright bell descending synth ostinato twinkling like rain droplets in the background, more rapid hip-hop verses and vocoder-polished harmonies. It’s giving Khalid or The Weeknd vibes. The vulnerable quality from earlier returns in Dangerous with an extended, mournful intro that bears an unmistakable message – “When was the last time I felt like this / Dark desire and tainted bliss”. The harpsichord-like synth and swaggering beat that kicks in at around 1:30 instantly infuses the track with an irresistible, seductive quality, and when the massive guitars and florid drums land, it echoes Devin Townsend (but decidedly more melancholy).
Another music box-esque synth line introduces second album single Caramel, whose smooth salsa flavours belie the gravity of the track’s central theme: the dark side of parasocialism. It’s not just the doxxing Sleep Token has been subjected to that Vessel calls out in this track – “Looking sideways at my own visage, getting worse / Every time they try to shout my real name just to get a rise from me”. Social media has eroded traditional artist/fan boundaries like never before, and this band has amassed a global, cult-like worship by internet-native fans who revere them like gods and confuse the brand with the real people behind the masks – “Stick to me like caramel / Walk beside me ‘til you feel nothing as well”.
Next is the title track, which is quite possibly the most gut-wrenchingly moving ballad Vessel has written since the days of Blood Sport. His haunting vocals reach their emotive zenith here – “It seems that even in Arcadia you walk beside me still / Have you been waiting long…for me?” – paired with one of the most breath-taking piano lines I’ve heard in modern music. Slowly, the track gathers force with synths shimmering in the background like the dusk sky. Honestly, if you’re not crying by the end of this track, I don’t know what in the world will stir emotions in you. Provider infuses the dark urban feel present in a few numbers from ‘Take Me Back To Eden’ while experimenting with subtle surprises such as a soft, understated electric organ synth patch, and II gets the chance to flex his phenomenal technical skills with some blistering jazzy drum fills.
In Damocles, Vessel is stripped bare, offering us his most exposed, raw, self-aware lyrics yet. That these painful revelations are delivered in a major key is a twist I certainly wasn’t expecting, and it adds a bittersweet edge to the track. The symbolism is obvious, with the Sword of Damocles representing the constant pressure felt by Vessel to perform, to be perfect, to measure up to the lofty heights of his godlike recognition by fans ever hanging precariously over his head. There’s an interesting parallel between the looming threat aspect of this piece of Grecian mythology, and the notion of fame and fortune teetering on a knife’s edge as well – “What if the diamond days are all gone / And who will I be when the empire falls? / Wake up alone and I’ll be forgotten”. It’s an unflinchingly honest self-portrait, to be sure, but one could read into it a little further and detect a hint of mocking.
Gethsemane is a jazz-driven micro-masterpiece that is sure to please any Animals As Leaders or Polyphia fan, with a jaw-dropping performance from II on those skins. Florid fills abound, and some slick guitar riffs ease in halfway through the track to enhance the progressive metal stylings. Midtempo RnB chants edge us towards the album closer, Infinite Baths. I know fans had a lot to say about the unusual title of this track, but I can say that musically, this title is accurately representative of the luxurious watercolour soundscape painted by the interplay of each layer of harmonies, synths and samples. It’s an explosion of joy and visceral emotion – “Infinite baths, bursting colours when you laugh”. Then after five minutes of anthemic build, the final payoff is immense, with unhinged screams from Vessel and unholy low guitar chugs blasting a hole in the fabric of reality until they are swallowed by the figurative black hole of a fade-out effect.
In Even In Arcadia, we take a walk through the vibrant garden of a deeply passionate songwriter’s own personal imagined paradise, that stands in stark contrast to the reality they have found themselves in. Vessel speaks to the innate desire in all of us to find our peace, while wisely warning us that peace, and home, is not necessarily to be found in the places we might expect. With this album, Sleep Token have crafted a gorgeous, blossoming musical and lyrical odyssey that is art and poetry in its most sublime form. It is a gift to the world, and in that at least, I hope its creator can take solace.
‘Even In Arcadia’ IS OUT NOW – LISTEN HERE
With thanks to Dallas Does PR
