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ALBUM REVIEW: Even in Arcadia (SLEEP TOKEN)
- Tiana Speter
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read
Two years after 2023's Take Me Back To Eden, the enigmatic genre-bending collective known as Sleep Token have returned with their fourth studio album, offering up Even in Arcadia, due out on May 9.
Over the years, much debate has been given to Sleep Token, both from their sonic identity through to the group's literal real-world identities. Who is the name behind the serpentine vocals of frontman Vessel? What genre do Sleep Token actually fall into? Are they metal, are they progressive, are they pop, is Vessel rapping? Who is the obscured deity they worship, simply known as Sleep? But while we may now live in an age of instant gratification and categorisation, what undeniably becomes more and more apparent with each new Sleep Token release is that if you continuously find yourself asking these questions - you are actually missing the point of this band. Yes, there are overarching concepts at play, and yes, the continuous dedication to anonymity may inflame sleuths and long-time fans alike. But with Even in Arcadia, it's clear that Sleep Token are a band fiercely designed to be listened to mind, body and soul, ignoring any preconceived notions or burning questions and instead giving in to the experience. And you don't need to "drink the Kool-Aid" to immerse yourself into Sleep Token's universe, merely be open to a transcendent experience and/or maintain familiarity with the universal flaws and fears that accompanies the human existence - and Even in Arcadia covers all of those bases with gusto.
Drawing its title from a Latin phrase Et in Arcadia ego, one that was often found inscribed on tombs, and touches on the inevitability of death for all, Even in Arcadia fittingly opens with Look to Windward on a melancholic yet futuristic note. Sharing its name with a line from T. S. Eliot's The Waste Land, and/or with the 2000 sci-fi novel of the same name by Iain M. Banks, there's an urgency and cinematic poise in the album's opener that firmly builds into a churning and poignant mid-section break, before once again shedding its skin and dealing in percolating electronic drums, a languid rap flow from Vessel and ethereal undertones. And flitting between solitary piano lines juxtaposed with towering arrangements, Look to Windward is certainly a bewitching and erratic album opener, spanning the glossy light and murky dark at the heart of Sleep Token's sound.
With moments of emotive airiness and thunderous heaviness (Emergence), crystalline modernity merged with meticulous introspection (Past Self), gooey R&B ambience balanced with dense riffs and melodic shifts (Dangerous), Even in Arcadia's midway point strikes a very real narrative chord via the pop-hued ode to fame and its para-social accompaniments (Caramel), complete with a permeating music box melody and ever-swelling instrumentals that build into a plaintive outro.
Kicking off the latter half of Sleep Token's fourth full-length is the album's very own title track, with Even in Arcadia briefly continuing the music box motif seen on Caramel, before swapping over to a wistful piano and Vessel powerfully ruminating about humanity's unifier, the inevitability of death. From here Vessel swoons over a solitary organ in the early and midway moments of Provider, interspersed with crisp ethereal swagger and the occasional churning heaviness, soon following with a power pop ballad Damocles that glistens with pianos and Vessel once again baring his masked soul as he traverses themes of existentialism, fame and expectation, with the latter most ardently touched on via the lyrics: "I know I should be touring / I know these chords are boring / But I can't always be killing the game."
And continuing the intimacy that has enveloped Even in Arcadia more firmly with each passing song, penultimate track Gethsemane sways in with piercing subtlety, flourishing into some proggy moments set against ethereal reprieves, razor-sharp guitars, and a prayer-like outing from Vessel before the return of more modern R&B shades. A dominantly tense yet reflective cut, Gethsemane soon leads into Even in Arcadia's final track, with Infinite Baths offering just under eight and a half minutes of mesmerising dexterity. Softly evolving from its stripped-back intro, Infinite Baths is a true metamorphosis, both lyrically and instrumentally, with Vessel both capturing and healing the heartache and struggle that has come before set against invigorating melodies, declaring: "My horizon is fleeting | I'm so tired inside I could sleep through a landslide | Bit I'm finally here and I'm not leaving this time". And with the track building at long last to some harsh vocals just after the five minute mark, Infinite Baths rattles with catharsis and some barbed riffage that cleaves a pathway to the album's final concluding moments as they fade into the distance.
While closing on a heavier note, Even in Arcadia feels like a raw and exposed open vein across the board, almost as though we're intruding on some of Vessel's most sacred and intimate moments in the very real world. But on album #4 we are hearing from Vessel the person, not Vessel the mysterious construct throughout these 10 tracks, and this fact lends a very engaging realism to proceedings without detracting from the almost mystical ethos that Sleep Token have cultivated over time.
With plenty of surprises in store throughout, from a saxophone outro on Emergence through to a heart-wrenching violin solo in the title track, Even in Arcadia brings Sleep Token down to earth in magnetic fashion, showcasing their mortality and originality as much as it bathes in genre defiance, vulnerability and an appetite for innovation.
EVEN IN ARCADIA - DUE OUT MAY 9 VIA RCA RECORDS / SONY MUSIC AUSTRALIA
BY TIANA SPETER
