Sleep Token’s latest release, EVEN IN ARCADIA, continues their exploration of love, longing, and spiritual ache through an emotionally charged blend of metal, R&B, and ambient pop. It’s a record that leans into what the band does best—sensuality, sorrow, and soundscapes thick with atmosphere. Cohesive and thoughtfully arranged, it presents a more refined version of Sleep Token’s signature sound, though at times it trades experimentation for polish.

The album begins with "Look to Windward," a cinematic, slow-burning opener that feels like stepping into an old video game—its soft synths evoking a Zelda-esque melancholy. Vessel’s vocals enter delicately, layered with care as distant screams echo beneath, building tension before unleashing a wave of djent-heavy riffs and massive drums. The payoff isn’t revolutionary, but it’s effective. A haunting sadness underlines the refrain “will you hold this eclipse in me?”, capturing the emotional weight that carries through the rest of the album.

From there, "Emergence" slows things down with hushed pianos and yearning vocals. The line “wrap your arms around me” lands a bit heavy-handed, especially with the distorted effects layered over it, but this is classic Sleep Token drama. The track improves in its second half, where heavy riffs meet booming trap drums, and even a smooth saxophone passage turns the mood sultry in a way that’s oddly compelling. The transitions throughout the song are tight, showing the band’s growing maturity in arrangement.

"Past Self" brings a lighter energy—synth chimes and a breezier vocal delivery. Vessel tones down the theatrics and leans into something more sincere and delicate, almost like a melodic yodel (in the best way). It’s one of the album’s more lowkey moments, but its sweetness and simplicity give it charm. The beat slowly evolves beneath him, offering a soft crescendo without ever exploding.

With "Dangerous," the album turns darker again. Echoey guitars and sparse space give Vessel room to emote, his distorted vocals bouncing off shadows. The eventual instrumental swell feels grand, but lacks the edge of earlier works—more polished, less adventurous. It’s a song that hints at something massive, but never quite fully delivers.

"Caramel" starts as a sad lullaby, its toy-like chimes creating a childlike eeriness. The rhythm soon shifts into a surprising Afro-Latin groove, and the lyrics take on a sensual flair—“stick to me like caramel”—a mix of intimacy and cheekiness. The track later explodes with heavy riffs and even leans into black metal-style screams, which sound genuinely wild in the best way. It's one of the boldest songs on the album, proof that the band can still take risks.

The title track, "Even In Arcadia," is atmospheric and slow to unfold. It leans heavily on the now-familiar Sleep Token structure—gradual build, vocal distortion, eventual drop. While beautifully crafted, it feels slightly predictable. Still, the mood it sets is crucial: a kind of spiritual mourning laced through the whole record.

"Provider" offers another subdued moment, built on soft synths with an 80s feel. Lyrically, it continues the theme of romantic dependence and vulnerability. The band swoops in with bursts of guitar and drums, brightening the sonic palette before receding again. It’s a gentle ebb and flow—effective, if not particularly surprising.

Things take an unexpected turn with "Damocles." Driven by folky piano and handclaps, it channels mid-2010s indie vibes, à la Mumford & Sons—but filtered through Vessel’s sensual delivery and the band’s metallic punch. Lyrics about touring and self-reflection feel unusually grounded for Sleep Token, offering a peek behind the myth. It’s lighter, looser, and more human.

Then comes "Gethsemane," a standout and tonal shift. Vessel’s vocal approach changes entirely—more vulnerable, less stylized. The drumming here is tasteful and intricate, with groovy, crisp riffs and a thick, warm bassline that give the track a unique swagger. Even the trap beat in the outro feels perfectly placed. It’s the moment where the album truly feels alive again, breaking free from formula and letting emotion lead.

Finally, "Infinite Baths" closes the record by circling back to the lo-fi, video-game nostalgia of the opener. It’s peaceful, even redemptive, with gospel-like handclaps and a sad, soft energy that soaks into the listener. The screamed vocals in the climax, unfortunately, are buried in the mix—a missed opportunity that blunts what could have been a powerful finish. Still, the heavy final chugs carry weight and purpose, ending the album on a bittersweet note.

EVEN IN ARCADIA is a refined and emotionally immersive album. It offers the most focused version of Sleep Token yet, blending their signature elements—ambient introspection, metal aggression, and R&B sensuality—into a seamless package. Vessel remains a magnetic, enigmatic frontman, and the band around him is tight, dynamic, and expressive.

That said, the record often plays it safe, leaning heavily on a well-worn structure. The emotional weight is real, but the sonic risks are fewer. It’s an album that’s beautiful and brooding, but not always surprising.

RATING: 7/10