“Sleep” and “Token”. Two words that, when used together, could only mean one of three things: a potential cryptocurrency or Meme coin, an idea for a dark fantasy novel or THE band.
Sleep Token is a masked, anonymous group from London formed in 2016. According to their lore, the band members are devoted to a fictional deity called “Sleep.” Their music is often classified under the metal genre, but that label barely scratches the surface, (I will say they ARE their own genre.) Their songs are described as ritualistic and spiritual, and their concerts? They feel more like ceremonies than performances. The band wears masks and paints all visible skin in black ink, except for the teeth. Yes, the teeth. It’s giving “holy but haunted.” But I promise it is not a cult or religion; it is music.
Now, I could write a 500+ page thesis on their uniqueness, the beauty of their sound, the anonymity of the members and how their music feels to the core, but I will refrain. Let us focus on their newest album. (Deep breath. No rabbit holes. I promise.)
There are five members in the band. Vessel is the lead vocalist and songwriter, and in the track “Caramel,” he pours his heart out about the pain of potential doxxing and the weight of visibility. He expresses a desire to simply relay the words of Sleep while remaining anonymous:
“Every time they try to shout my real name just to get a rise from me
Acting like I’m never stressed out by the hearsay
I guess that’s what I get for tryna hide in the limelight
Guess that’s what I get for having 20/20 hindsight”
“(I wish it all away) terrified to answer my own front door
(I thought things had changed) missin’ my wings in a realm of angels
(But everything’s the same)
So, I’ll keep dancing’ along to the rhythm
The stage is a prison, a beautiful nightmare”
If you ask me, Vessel’s real name is Vessel Marie Token, and I will not be hearing otherwise. “Caramel” feels like a rare moment where the person under the mask speaks—not Vessel, not Sleep, just the human beneath it all.
The other band members are II, III, IV and Espera. II is the drummer and could be considered a core member of the band, as he contributes to songs in their initial stage of process. III plays guitar during the live “ceremonies” as well as IV, who handles bass and is also known as “Ivy” (because he moves like one, quiet, creeping, essential.) Espera is a trio of women who also provide backing vocals during live shows.
In February, Sleep Token launched their first official TikTok account with a cryptic caption: “Show Me How to Dance Forever.” That phrase linked to a website with a floral pink/grey aesthetic, ancient architecture, and scrambled letters. Fans had to decode the sequence, which led to:
- Coordinates for the Shepherd’s Monument in Staffordshire, England
- A mirror image of Nicolas Poussin’s painting The Shepherds of Arcadia
- The Shugborough inscription cipher, an unsolved historical puzzle
Once solved, a black flamingo appeared. A version of the pink flamingo that is associated with Sleep Token, one fans had collectively agreed his name was Jerry. Fans then input their emails and received a message titled “BEHOLD, A DIVIDE,” offering two choices:
- House Veridian “green-themed”
- Feathered Host “pink-themed”
Each house had its own logo and Instagram account. Fans were sorted into factions, and the accounts posted identical sheet music with cryptic Latin words: Septuagesimus and Secundus, meaning “72nd.” This pointed to the 72nd day of the year—March 13th—which coincided with a blood moon lunar eclipse. That’s when the first single, “Emergence,” dropped.
Later, Sleep Token partnered with Spotify to release teaser videos and cryptic visuals. Fans pieced together the album’s 10-track listing through online puzzles and social media clues. Billboard ads in Times Square and LA displayed the phrase, “Observe this contribution.”
Now let’s talk about the songs. “Provider” and “Dangerous” are tracks that—how do I say this—might cause a baby boom in 2026. They have that feel. That slow, sensual, emotionally devastating feel where you’re not sure if you want to cry, kiss someone or ascend into the astral plane.
Or should we talk about “Emergence?” This one has a perfect tempo—literally. Nurses and music nerds have pointed out it matches the beat for CPR. So yes, it is emotionally powerful and potentially lifesaving. Play it loud, play it often, and maybe learn chest compressions while you’re at it.
“Even in Arcadia”, the title track, is smooth, layered, and weirdly catchy. It was interpreted by fans as their way of assuring them that they are not going to stop singing and performing because of their recent doxxing.
“Past Self” is reflective, a little sad, but also kind of comforting. Its lyrics are about how Vessel has changed compared to his past self and could be interpreted as reminiscing. If feels like a hug from someone who knows you’ve changed but still loves the mess you were.
Overall, this album opens a portal for everyone. Whether you like metal or not, you will find something here. Why? Because it is not metal-heavy like their previous work—it is genre-fluid, emotionally expansive, and sonically rich. Fans (If you can’t already tell, I am one of them) are hoping this album represents just one of the two houses, and that another album is coming to complete the divide. Also, I am hoping they are going to keep “blessing us” with more songs in the future and not get discouraged or put off by fans who are reasons “Caramel” exist.
Until then, we dance. Forever.
