Revolver has named Sleep Token’s record-breaking Even in Arcadia 2025’s Album of the Year, and we’re celebrating it in our Revolver Awards collector’s issue — order yours now.
Sleep Token blend genres like nobody else. It’s come to be one of their defining traits, musically speaking, and while scores of bands have attempted to collage the sounds of rock and metal with a wealth of other genres, the masked U.K. quartet have done so in a way that’s incomparable to anything that’s been attempted before. Indeed, while they have been active as a band for less than a decade, this approach means their discography is a particularly expansive and diverse one.
From the outset, Sleep Token dealt primarily in djent, with shades of ethereal R&B and a gentle yet glossy kind of mid-2010s-style pop, but other elements — from trap to jazz — crept in at certain intervals.
At other moments, their music resists any kind of genre classification at all. Nonetheless, Sleep Token’s sound has morphed and expanded from album to album. Generally speaking, of their albums so far, Sundowning is a hazier, softer record (though the blazing nu-metal of “Gods” and gritty djent of “The Offering” are notable exceptions), This Place Will Become Your Tomb is louder, more guitar-based and more streamlined, and Take Me Back to Eden is the most far-reaching and experimental, somehow both heavier, softer and more expansive than its predecessors.
Their most recent album, Even in Arcadia, builds on that experimentalism while also shifting its weight towards the pop-oriented end of their range, yet without neglecting their heavier undertones.
The other defining aspect of Sleep Token’s music is their capacity for heart-piercing, all-consuming emotion. Across their music, and across the story it tells of Vessel’s turbulent relationship with the mysterious deity Sleep. He’s enraged, frustrated, lovelorn, desperate, devoted, wounded or maybe many of those things at once. Later in their discography, Vessel also reckons with concepts including the fracturing and rebuilding of identity, and the tolls of fame.
While telling a fictional story, these lyrics aren’t opaque enough to only be about a man and a god — the beauty of them is that listeners can still insert themselves, their own life circumstances and their own personal interpretations into them. Vessel’s story is ultimately a very human story.
Every fan will answer the question of what Sleep Token’s greatest songs are differently, and they have a large selection to choose from.
Nonetheless, this is our answer. Dive in and worship.
“Nazareth”
Don’t be deceived by the serenity of “Nazareth”’s soft beginning. Its initial minimalism is an intriguing backdrop for some of Vessel’s most sinister lyrics, particularly the bone-chilling passage where someone conspires to “make her eat tape in the bathroom mirror/See if she can guess what a hollow point does to a naked body/Let’s fuck her up.” Then, without warning, the song explodes into a vibrant, full-bodied finale in a way that’s unanticipated but never jarring.
In that sense, “Nazareth” epitomizes the dichotomy at the center of Sleep Token’s M.O. — creating a sense of beauty entangled with horror.
“Dark Signs”
Though Sleep Token are always keen to toy with mainstream sounds, “Dark Signs” leans further into those sensibilities than most of Sundowning’s other songs. The click and whir of trap drums loom large, as do the glistening electronics, until the track segues into grittier, rockier echelons — a pivot that would become the band’s trademark structural maneuver going forward.
Meanwhile, although Vessel’s lyrical approach is usually more poetic in nature, “Dark Signs” cuts as deep as it does because he leaves no room for ambiguity: “I miss the man I was,” he curses. “I hate who I have become.”
“Jaws”
Like “Nazareth,” “Jaws” is one of Sleep Token’s earliest songs, but it still holds up years later — and even appears in their setlist from time to time.
Released before any of their albums, the stand-alone single sows the seeds of what was to come, with a palette of chunky percussion, squalling synths and snarling riffs. Also foreshadowing the band’s future are Vessel’s lyrics, in which he explores the same blurring of love and malice that would become a recurring theme in Sleep Token’s unfolding story.
“The Night Does Not Belong to God”
“The Night Does Not Belong to God” is drenched in a feeling of reverence. It’s both subtle and somehow vast, especially in its thinner-sounding passages. Even the electric guitar only takes up a modest amount of space, appearing as a mere undercurrent of the surrounding composition. Apt for a band who explore the theme of worship and inspire worship from their fans, the song has the ethereal quality of music that might be sung in church.
Some parts, especially in the second verse where Vessel croons, “The whites of your eyes/Turn black in the lowlight,” sound choral. As Sundowning‘s album opener, the song sets a beautiful scene for what follows.
“Atlantic”
The ghostly “Atlantic” opens This Place Will Become Your Tomb dislocated from rock music altogether — it’s just Vessel and a piano beckoning listeners into Sleep Token’s world. The band tend to begin albums by slowly re-immersing listeners into their storyline, which they do here with gradual tenderness — until the djent detonations arrive.
Meanwhile, Vessel sings in a fragile voice one of his most visceral tales. The details are murky — does he speak of injury, self-harm, even suicide? — but his wants are the same as they ever were: “So flood me like Atlantic/Bandage up the trenches/Anything to get me to sleep.”
“The Love You Want”
Appropriately for a song on This Place Will Become Your Tomb, an album featuring the ocean in its artwork, “The Love You Want” conjures the feeling of being submerged deep underwater.
With its aqueous atmospherics and minimalist arrangement — to the point that its bridge is sung practically a capella — its sound is both expansive and lonely until the guitars roar to life. Vessel’s vulnerable lyrics are front and center, as he implores the closed-off Sleep to open up and accept his faithful devotion.
In a live setting, the song is especially arresting — particularly since, on multiple occasions, Vessel has been heard sobbing while he sings its final lines.
“Granite”
Vessel finds himself boiling over in this confrontational cut from Take Me Back to Eden, in which the friction between him and Sleep begins to build once again. The music accompanying him — at least for the first two-thirds of the track — is icy and stripped-down, comprised of burbling synths and whispering keys.
However, “Granite” has a stinger in its tail. In a particularly dramatic version of Sleep Token’s song-of-two-halves formula, first-time listeners will be sorely unprepared for the sudden lurch into heavier territory, as Vessel’s frustration mounts and his murmurs become strained cries.
“Sugar”
While 2023’s “The Summoning” garnered plenty of attention for its lustful lyrics, sexuality had been an important part of Sleep Token’s artistry for some time. “I’ve developed a taste for you,” Vessel croons on “Sugar,” as he paints a picture of devilish manipulation against a backdrop of fluttering, pulsating R&B.
The song is a shining example of how deftly the band can craft a complex narrative, where desire and control tensely shake hands. “My arms keep you in the room,” Vessel proclaims, but the romance dissolves when he adds that they “barely let you move.”
“Blood Sport”
“Blood Sport” brings Sundowning to an anguished conclusion. Beaten down by the push-and-pull of Sleep’s toxic power games, Vessel is caught somewhere between exhaustion, frustration and devastation. At first a lamentation, the song builds, over the trill and swirl of piano, into an outpouring of rage.
It’s one of Sleep Token’s most poignant tracks, in large part due to the potency and multiplicity of the emotions expressed. Vessel’s voice becomes raspy with anger at points, but by its dying seconds, in the album’s most moving moment, he’s crying.
“Emergence”
Vessel has new struggles to wrestle with across Even in Arcadia, but his cast-iron bond with Sleep remains constant. He is wrapped up in a blissful, devoted state, gently appealing to Sleep to “come on, come on/Out from underneath, who you were” against a shifting backdrop of cascading guitar chords and thrumming, whirling electronics.
The intensity in both music and lyrics climbs as Vessel’s pleas become more urgent and poetic. “Tell me what you meant by ‘living past your half-life,’” he urges as the riffs gnash around him, before returning to a gentler position as he tells Sleep, “You might be the one to take away the pain and let my mind go quiet.”
Concluding with a saxophone solo performed by Bilmuri’s Gabi Rose, “Emergence” offers a shape-shifting portrait of Vessel’s devotion.
“Euclid”
After three albums’ worth of twists and turns, “Euclid” brings Sleep Token’s trilogy to a sober yet graceful ending. If “Take Me Back to Eden” is the moment where Vessel purges himself of everything weighing him down, “Euclid” feels like he’s found equilibrium, almost like he’s been spiritually cleansed. It’s a warm goodbye laced with bright piano chords, and its crunching chorus soars with fresh hope.
Lyrically, “Euclid” concludes with a beautifully neat, full-circle moment where Vessel returns to some of the lines from Sundowning opener “The Night Does Not Belong to God,” once again referencing “the whites of your eyes” that “turn black in the lowlight.” It’s the send-off this trilogy deserves.
“Alkaline”
Vessel is particularly adept at capturing the messy feelings in the gray area between adoration and obsession, and “Alkaline,” the lead single from This Place Will Become Your Tomb, is an entrancing example of this.
Our masked protagonist makes poetry out of the language of chemistry as he gropes towards an understanding of an entity that eludes definition, who’s “not acid nor alkaline/Caught between black and white/Not quite either day or night.” Sonically, the song ascends slowly, its airy synths setting the scene for Vessel’s studied contemplation. Then, as his emotions surge in intensity, so does the music, as the electronics meld with gravelly riffs.
“Infinite Baths”
Vessel is often left grieving and bereft at the end of Sleep Token’s albums, but there’s more light shining through Even in Arcadia’s closer “Infinite Baths.”
Tellingly, its title refers to a concept in theoretical physics that describes an environment with endless degrees of freedom, which can absorb energy or information without being changed. It reflects Vessel reaching a state of peace, liberated from his previous state of tumult, as well as concepts of cleansing and transformation.
The gossamer textures of its contemplative opening contrasts the brutality of its volcanic-sounding coda, the heaviest point of Even in Arcadia, as Vessel howls the album’s concluding lines: “Teeth of god/Blood of man/I will be/What I am.”
“Fall for Me”
“Fall for Me” ranks as one of the bravest songs Sleep Token have ever attempted — not because it’s an adventurous smorgasbord of genres and ideas, but because it’s so incredibly simple.
All we hear is Vessel’s lone voice, altered with a vocoder, not a single instrument accompanying him. As a result, it’s one of the band’s most vulnerable moments. Vessel’s pleas for his affections to be returned feel painfully potent, his emotions left completely exposed without the band’s usual pop-metal adornments.
The song’s modesty is captivating, its power effortless.
“Aqua Regia”
There’s nothing else in Sleep Token’s catalog that sounds quite like “Aqua Regia.” Indeed, there’s not even one twang of a guitar string, and during their live Rituals, bassist III and guitarist IV frequently retreat to the side of the stage and sit on the floor together because they aren’t needed.
Straddling the divide between sultry R&B and lounge-y jazz, “Aqua Regia” slinks and writhes, its low piano chords and skittering drums crackling with a sensual energy. It’s a bold demonstration of just how far Sleep Token are willing to stretch the limits of their sound.
“Hypnosis”
A murky tale plumbing the depths of yearning and surrender, “Hypnosis” is arguably the heaviest cut from This Place Will Become Your Tomb, but it still possesses an enchantingly delicate touch. It’s propelled by thundering percussion and a central riff that bites hard, creating an undertone of danger, but its siren-like synths conjure an atmosphere that’s equal parts foreboding and mesmerizing.
Atop the instrumentation, Vessel’s lyrics express a twisted vision of desire — he’s willing to be lifted out of his skin, to have everything taken from him. Which begs the question: Is this ordinary human lust, or a morbid obsession?
“Like That”
A live staple from Sleep Token’s second album, “Like That” is a sterling example of the masked musicians’ flair for the dark and dramatic, as well as their loud-quiet dynamics.
The sheer volume of the gnashing guitars makes it easy to think of the song as heavier than it really is, but it’s actually the contrast with the smoldering, layered verses that gives the song its seismic impact.
As for the lyrics, they reel with passion and surrender (“Fall into your eyes like a grave/Bury me to the sound of your name”), as our narrator falls victim to the intoxication of lust, a motif that’s woven into the fabric of This Place Will Become Your Tomb.
“Look to Windward”
Even in Arcadia’s epic opening cut — with a title referencing T.S. Eliot’s poem The Waste Land — establishes that Vessel has a new cross to bear.
Staring at the shards of his fractured identity, he feels powerless and lost, begging to be listened to. “Will you halt this eclipse in me?” he asks, almost out of step with the thin synth line beneath him.
Careening from piano balladry to trap-pop to scorching metal in the space of just under eight minutes, it’s a sonic voyage in and of itself, setting up Vessel for a long, winding emotional journey.
“Caramel”
In “Caramel,” Sleep Token created something bigger than themselves, which acted as a clarion call to their entire scene. Tearing a hole in the veil they put between themselves and their fans, Vessel candidly spells out the damage over-invasive fans — some of whom “try to shout my real name just to get a rise from me” — have done to him, leaving him “terrified to answer my own front door.”
It’s both an indictment of toxic fandom online and a diary of a man struggling with his own fame, worrying how to contend with it without falling into bitterness or seeming ungrateful. Sonically, it represents a yin-yang of extremes, its chart-baiting pop leaving listeners unprepared for the sudden plunge into metal in its bridge.
“The Offering”
Frequently played near the end of Rituals to bring the night to an anthemic close, 2019’s “The Offering” lays the groundwork for everything Sleep Token aspired to become.
The elements within it — hulking djent riffs, twinkling electronics, atmospheric verses — would end up becoming foundational pieces of Sleep Token’s sound, but the song is also polished and assured enough to never feel like a mere prototype.
Similarly, with its overt themes of devotion, “The Offering” is key to understanding Sleep Token’s world-building.
“Gethsemane”
Is this the most devastating Sleep Token have ever sounded?
“Gethsemane” quickly had fans’ mascara running when Even in Arcadia dropped, referencing the location of the Agony in the Garden Jesus experienced shortly before his crucifixion. Here, Vessel’s enduring an agony all of his own in the garden setting of Arcadia, his voice quietly wavering as he admits, “I was in love with the thought that we were in love with each other.”
Notably, the song twists Sleep Token’s previous conventions into different shapes, with a brighter pop-metal tone to its guitar (not unlike Polyphia’s favored tones perhaps), and Vessel singing in a softer, higher register than usual that amplifies his somber mood.
“Vore”
For a metal band, Vessel’s gauzy croons give Sleep Token’s music a unique sense of restraint, but on “Vore,” he screams like he’s in agony. It’s the band’s heaviest song by a considerable margin, with thunderous guitars that strike a violent intensity rarely heard in their discography.
Yet “Vore” still contains gentler moments that let the poignancy of Vessel’s heartache shine through, as he declares to an unknown entity — a lover perhaps? — “I wanna have you to myself for once.” It reaches a nadir, however, with its crushing finale, as the heaviness returns in time for him to howl, “Are you in pain like I am?”
“Chokehold”
Take Me Back to Eden’s opening salvo is a piece of slowly unwinding theatricality, its simmering verses leaving listeners disarmed for the weighty riffs that follow. The heavy parts crash down with such spontaneity that even seasoned Sleep Token worshippers were caught off guard the first time they heard it.
“Chokehold”’s feverish passion and musical shock value immediately made it one of the band’s most popular songs. It says something that everyone from Lorna Shore frontman Will Ramos to former American Idol star Chris Daughtry were inspired to cover the song. These were flattering gestures, of course, but nothing beats the original.
“Take Me Back to Eden”
While “Euclid” closes the book on Sleep Token’s trilogy of albums, “Take Me Back to Eden” feels like the proper conclusion to the album of the same name. The eight-minute epic is the band’s most ambitious song, featuring several different movements, like a piece of classical music, and impressively smooth transitions between disparate genres.
It’s slow and subdued at first, but then transforms into cocksure trap-pop before circling back to a gentler mood — but only briefly, as the guitars and drums soon come crashing in. The finale is positively explosive, with Vessel screaming its refrain — “I have travelled far beyond the path of reason/Take me back to Eden” — with earth-shattering fortitude.
“The Summoning”
Simply put, “The Summoning” is Sleep Token’s most important song.
Released just one day after “Chokehold” in January 2023, as the world was slowly waking up from a state of post-holiday-season hibernation, the single had an effect on the band’s trajectory akin to pouring gasoline on a fire. Its popularity on TikTok further catalyzed Sleep Token’s ascent, and their Spotify streams soared at an astronomical rate. Improbably, the masked, anonymous progressive-metal band had a hit.
Why was “The Summoning” such a sensation? Musically, it shows a different side of Sleep Token. They cross into genres they hadn’t previously explored, and up the ante on the ones they previously mastered. The slashing, down-tuned guitars in its first half are more metallic than their usual output, heightening the contrast with its celestial chorus. Then it unexpectedly segues into retro funk during its last two minutes, and somehow pulls the startling transition off seamlessly.
Thematically, Sleep Token’s lyrics had strayed into sexual territory before, but they feel more overtly hot-blooded on “The Summoning,” melding poetic allusions (“I’ve got a river running right into you”) with brazenly carnal imagery (“You’ve got my body, flesh and bone”) — and even an explicit reference to making “a good girl bad.”
Both musically and lyrically, “The Summoning”’s elements of surprise made for the stuff of viral gold, certifying to the wider world that Sleep Token could not simply be an underground secret. They had to be known by everyone.
You can read more about Sleep Token’s acclaimed rise to fame in Revolver’s special collector’s issue devoted to the band — available to order with two new alternate, collectible covers over here.