I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it by The 1975 // 10 Year Anniversary Album Review
This is a sprawling, 17-track album with a distinctly different sound from song to song. At just over an hour long, it's immediately clear they had no interest in limiting themselves in any way with this project. Especially as the trend of wanting to make albums shorter to be more "digestible" as our collective attention spans continue to shrink, choosing not to make this a tight ten track pop album is a statement in and of itself.
The refusal to limit the scope of what the album could be, even by including two long electronic instrumental interludes, "Please Be Naked" and the nearly seven-minute title track, further stretches the album's sonic palette. The record pulls from a wide range of influences and is unafraid to take up the listener's time and space with something that is an intentional, full-bodied piece of work. It covers a lot of ground and touches on many very important and deeply personal topics like addiction, mental health, religion, equality, death, fame, relationships, and the overall complexities of living in the modern age. In doing so, it never loses sight of the band's mission or the thesis of the larger project. If anything, the degree of its expansiveness is entirely the point of it all.
"I wanted it to be a representation of my personality, and in order to put across personality, it needs to be dynamic, and it needs to command attention at certain times. And it's almost like three or four different albums, that album, the way that it moves. And if you don't want to invest in it, don't," Matty added in his interview with NME. "I want quite a strict door policy on my band, do you know what I mean? Like, if you're not prepared to emotionally invest in it, or it's born of the emotional investment that I've felt for my fans, I wanted to give that back directly. And you can't do that in ten songs that are all under three minutes."
While doubling down on the ambitious scope of the album and the band's music as a whole, Matty also makes it clear that they resist any pressure to conform to outside expectations. The band's focus has always been on making the music they want to make for the people who genuinely understand it, not in pursuit of critical approval or fitting into any preconceived mold. In a moment of characteristically blunt, self‑aware honesty, he put it plainly: "So there might be a couple of, you know, forty‑year‑olds who find it a bit boring and a bit long, but fuck off, like, who cares? It's our album. This is our album. That's how long it is. I don't really know, that's how long it is. So if you don't listen to it, do something else."
The first few songs on the album are the most pop forward, rooted in bright 80's and new wave sensibilities, but the sound really does tend shift from track to track. Even in their most accessible moments, there is still so much depth, both lyrically and emotionally, that the song lyrics often read like pure poetry. Following the tradition of opening with their self-titled intro track, I like it when you sleep launches straight into an all-time classic, "Love Me". Its opening guitar riff is especially so iconic. It is fun and funky, channeling flashes of Bowie and Talking Heads while still feeling distinctly their own.
Lyrically, "Love Me" sets the tone for the album's satirical commentary on modern life and fame in the digital age. It captures the feeling of being trapped in the endless cycle of social media, addicted to the attention, disillusioned by its emptiness, and unsure how to escape it. At the same time, there is still a very real craving for the validation it brings. The cheeky hook, "Love me, if that is what you wanna do," fully embodies that dynamic.
"And hey, would you like to look outside sometimes? No! I'm just with my friends online, and there are things we'd like to change," Matty sings in the opening lines. "Next thing you'll find you're reading 'bout yourself on a plane, fame, what a shame, well, just keep looking, looking, looking, looking!"
Throughout the album, Matty writes in a way that feels singular, with countless lines that no one else in the world could have ever come up with. The term "Karcrashian panache," is one of many, with the following line, "You got a beautiful face, but got nothing to say," being a really sharp and direct moment that is very much on the nose. Later he goes deeper into that same frame of mind with the sarcastic "'You look famous, let's be friends and portray we possess something important and do the things we'd like'", in the second verse. "'We've just come to represent a decline in the standards of what we accept!' Yeah, yeah, yeah? No".
The third track, "UGH!", follows and it is one of several moments on the album where Matty opens up about his drug addiction and the ways it is beginning to take over his life and distort his sense of self. In hindsight, it feels like the early precursor to so many songs he would go on to write about his personal struggles and journey to recovery, especially "It's Not Living (If It's Not With You)" a few years later.
Sonically, "UGH!" is the first on the album to lean into a darker tone, though some of that heaviness is partially hidden beneath the glitchy pop‑rock production, making the lyrics even more striking to fully dive into. "Hey, boy, stop pacing 'round the room using other people's faces as a mirror for you, I know your lungs need filling, since your gums have lost their feeling," he sings in the opening verse. "But don't say that you're givin' it up again."
"She's American" then takes a satirical approach that could only come from four British men living in Los Angeles and suddenly being immersed in distinctly American culture for the first time. It pokes fun at both the American's perception of them, as well as the band's outsider perspective - with a contrast that is so funny in a way that Matty could only ever capture like this. "She likes it 'cause we just don't eat and we're so intelligent, she's American," he sings in the chorus. "She says I've got to fix my teeth, then she's so American."
More than anything, it further highlights the band's ability to turn social and political commentary into something clever and deceptively light. The line in the second verse, "And I think she's got a gun divinely decreed and custom made," is one of the sharpest examples of that.
Matty later explained the song's origins in an interview with Spotify, "As introspective, pensive and British as we can be, we still found ourselves in our early 20's in LA making an album. We felt it would not be authentic to not document the excitement of that idea. It's an idealistic, American, West Coast sound. If I picture myself as a kid in the 90's and imagine the sound of California this is that sound."
Their playful sense of observation really comes through here, especially in the way they write about being immersed in this world for the first time. Their experience with the general vapidness and nonchalance of LA culture is especially captured in the way Matty delivers lines like, "'Oh, what a letdown, a shame, I think he might die,'" mixed with all of the chaos of the new environment they're finding themselves in.
The song is full of so many more iconic lines, as well. "And don't fall in love with the moment and think you're in love with the girl" always stands out as a very distinct moment of clarity in the record, along with the very Matty-esque line in the bridge, "Well, your face has got a hold on me, but your brain is proper weird, are you feeling the same?" The surrealistic quality of "There's no more water in this city, but be careful or you'll drown, you think you've got it figured out" perhaps best describes the inner contradictions and disorientation that runs through this song.
"If I Believe You" brings a more stripped down R&B and soul inspired sound, with a warm saxophone arrangement that allows the emotional weight of the lyricism to sit at the forefront. It is one of the most stunning and evocative songs on the album, tackling a topic that is so rarely explored in such a way in music. The band captures the desperate, conflicted longing for the desire to believe in something greater. "I've got a God-shaped hole that's infected and I'm petrified of being alone now," Matty sings in the raw opening lines, "It's pathetic, I know." The only other songs that come close to capturing this specific inner dilemma are "Chinese Satellite" by Phoebe Bridgers or even The 1975's 2020 collaboration with her, "Jesus Christ 2005 God Bless America". All three songs are deeply existential and articulate the ache of wanting to believe, of wanting to feel connected to something that so many others seem to find comfort and certainty in. They each describe that longing with a poignancy I had never really heard expressed in this way before.
"And if I believe You, will that make it stop? If I told You I need You, is that what You want? And I'm broken and bleeding and begging for help, and I'm asking You Jesus, show Yourself," he sings in the chorus. "If I'm lost then how can I find myself?" he repeats in the outro, circling back to the same question that haunts the entire song. There is something really beautiful in admitting that, and for many listeners, it can serve as its own sort of comfort and a reminder that these questioning feelings and this longing are normal and deserve to be talked about openly.
"Lostmyhead" is one of the most thematically important moments on the album, even though its lyrics are simple on the surface. "I've lost my head, can you see it?" repeats throughout the entire song, building the emotional bridge into the second half of the record. Matty's personal unraveling becoming more direct and dissociative than before.
Sonically, the song begins with grungy, distorted electric guitars that feel like a direct link back to their earlier work, bridging the sound of their first album into this new chapter. Matty once explained the song's origins in an interview with Spotify, revealing just how foundational it is to the band's collective identity: "Lostmyhead was the first The 1975 song. I wrote it during the long hot summer of 2008 in my bedroom. Drive Like I Do had pseudo disbanded and littered themselves over different parts of South Manchester. I found myself in my bedroom without a band making a series of demos...with the idea of documenting my deteriorating mental health. I was reading the book 'On The Road' where I found a scribbled '1st June The 1975'....."
The song then connects really powerfully into the chaos of the following track, "The Ballad of Me and My Brain". It opens with Matty literally screaming the lines, "And well, I think I've gone mad, isn't that so sad?" followed by the sharp, "And what a shame you've lost a brain that you never had".
The song is written in a very ironic, almost light-hearted tone, as he narrates the absurdity of looking all over town for where he may have misplaced his brain. He tells his mum to check the car, wondering if it might be in Sainsbury's, where it's surely flirting with all of the girls there. It reads almost like a poem written in his very distinct voice, that is theatrical, witty and sharply specific. He is never lacking any self-awareness when it comes to his writing, either.
Underneath that humor is something heavier, though. Even through all of the theatrics, it's very clear how raw these words are, as he makes light of the feeling that he has lost all control in life. He captures it all though this very brief, yet incredibly pointed lens. It becomes a tonal shift for the second half of the record, where he depicts the sort of mental unraveling that he has been struggling with in detail.
The second verse continues this frantic search to find his brain again. Matty sings, "I jumped on a bus, declared my name, asked if anybody had seen my brain, 'Your brain was last seen going for a run and would you sign an autograph for my daughter Laura? 'Cause she adores you, but I think you're shit'".
The outro then follows with some of the most important lyrics of the entire project, which is sort of hidden at the very end, but hold so much weight in depicting where he was in his life at the time. He sings, "The nice nurse told me she felt my pain, but she couldn't find a single trace of my brain, 'Oops!... I Did It Again' started playing, forget my brain, remember my name".
With that verse, Matty manages to tie so much of the album's overarching narrative together in a very succinct, symbolic way. The distinct feeling of being completely stuck in life and struggling personally, while also having this very public‑facing identity that people project onto him is an internal conflict that comes to the forefront on this track. It connects back to a song like "Love Me" in a lot of ways with the shared themes of ego, identity, and the tension between having attention and fame, while still feeling like you're falling apart in every other aspect of life. There's the desire to be seen, but also the discomfort that comes with the attention, and then circling back again to the fear of disappearing entirely. That very specific contradiction is prevalent throughout so much of his writing from this time.
The Britney Spears reference adds another powerful layer too. It gestures toward the price some have paid for fame, as well as the way public scrutiny distorts one's sense - while also presenting the question of whether any of it is even worth it. For him, in that moment at least, it is - with the words "Forget my brain, remember my name" coming through as both a punchline and confession to this very vulnerable moment.
"Loving Someone" is another distinctly powerful moment on I like it when you sleep. It's written in this stream‑of‑consciousness, emotionally and culturally aware way that only Matty could pull from. There's so much depth to what he's saying that it's absolutely worth reading the lyrics on their own, because the way in which he performs them can make it easy to miss just how much beauty and weight is actually there. The chorus is especially striking, carrying a message of love, unity, and collective care that feels so rare to hear expressed with such sincerity. It's also one of the most connective moments to experience live, as well.
"My heart is telling me the telly isn't telling me anything I need but it needs to keep selling me, besides celebrities lacking in integrity, holding up the status quo instead of showing the kids that they matter, who are they gonna batter next? Just keep holding their necks and keep selling them sex, it's better if we keep them perplexed, it's better if we make them want the opposite sex," he sings in the opening verse, which sets the tone for the rest of the track. "Disenfranchised young criminal minds in a car park beside where your nan resides are not slow, they've just never been shown that you should be loving someone".
The song is sharply written and socially observant, delivered with this sense of urgency and accessibility that helps the message land in the way that it does. It is also written in a very intimate and conversational way, managing to be deeply personal, as well as political and philosophical at the same time. "Charlatan telepathy exploiting insecurity and praying on the purity of grief and it's simplicity but I know that maybe I'm too skeptical, even Guy Debord needed spectacles," is another lyrical highlight.
"Somebody Else" is undoubtedly an all-time career highlight, and for very good reason. It's rare for a band's biggest song to also be as widely regarded as one of their best, but with "Somebody Else" it feels absolutely true. While the band has countless truly incredible songs, there is something forever so timeless about this one. It captures so distinctly the feeling of unrequited longing and the desire to still have a hold on someone you once loved, even when you don't actually want them back. There is also a very distinct narrative connection to "A Change Of Heart" as well.
"So I heard you found somebody else and at first, I thought it was a lie," Matty sings in the iconic opening lines. "I took all my things that make sounds, the rest I can do without". From there the song builds into one of the greatest choruses they have ever written; "I don't want your body, but I hate to think about you with somebody else, our love has gone cold, you're intertwining your soul with somebody else" he sings.
While the song isn't necessarily overly sentimental or indicative of a specific person or relationship in the way some of the others on the album are, the imagery of "intertwining your soul" is strikingly beautiful. "'Somebody Else' is my purest songwriting experience. It was so easy and simple to write. It's about heartbreak, guilt and shame. Everyone can relate to that." Matty said in an interview with Spotify.
"Get someone you love? Get someone you need? Fuck that, get money," he repeatedly sings in the bridge. That lyric serves as such an ironic parody of modern dating culture and the dismissiveness that so often comes with showing real vulnerability. The theme of favoring emotional detachment in the name of personal gain has only become more relevant in the ten years since this song was released, which is sad to admit, but it's also undeniably funny to end a song built on longing and yearning with the blunt sentiment of "fuck that, get money" as if none of it even matters.
"She said, 'Hello,' she was letting me know we share friends in Soho, she's a pain in the nose, I'm a pain in women's clothes, 'And you're a walking overdose in a greatcoat,'" he recalls in the opening verse. "And so she wrote a plan for it on the back of a fag packet, she had to leave because she couldn't hack it, not enough noise and too much racket". The final line is such a great lyric and a clever use of a double entendre in the context of the rest of the song.
The whole song circles back over and over to the wistful repetition of "Oh how I'd love to go to Paris again!" It has such a dreamy, shimmering sound, paired with some of his most blunt writing as he goes into detail about getting high in Paris drifting through the city while he talks about a relationship that is nearing its end. There are so many great lines woven into this story, but a standout is the simplicity of the way he sings, "I said, 'Hey kids, we're all just the same, what a shame'" It ties so well into the recurring themes and phrases threaded throughout the rest of the album.
The final two tracks bring the album to a really deeply personal and intimate place, completely different from the dreamy alt‑pop and rock elements that make up a big portion of the rest of the record. They allow I like it when you sleep to end in a much more grounded space. "Nana" is a heartfelt ode to his grandmother, written with a raw emotional outlook that stands in stark contrast to where the album began.
"I wish you'd walk in again, imagine if you just did, I'd fill you in on the things you missed," Matty sings. "And I know that God doesn't exist and all the palaver surrounding it, but I like to think you hear me sometimes".
It is clear how difficult this loss is as the song goes on, but it is also such a sweet tribute to her. "Nana" is grounded in the small details that made their relationship so meaningful like, "I sat with you beside your bed and cried for things that I wish I'd said, you still had your nails red and if I live past seventy-two, I hope I'm half as cool as you". It is so unguarded and confessional, leaving only him, his grief and the lasting memory of someone he loved deeply - and who loved him deeply back.
The final verse is especially a really moving moment of this song. "Made in my room, this simple tune, will always keep me close to you, the crowds will sing their voices ring and it's like you never left," he sings, as his voice cracks singing the last words. "But I'm bereft you see, I think you can tell I haven't been doing too well".
"She Lays Down" ends the album in such a heartbreaking and vulnerable space. It is absolutely one of the heaviest songs Matty has ever written, as he opens up about his relationship with his mother and in particular her struggle with post-partum depression after she gave birth to him. It is a really sad song, touching on a topic that is very rare to be explored in such a blunt way.
"My hair is brown, she's scared to touch and she just wants to feel something and I don't think that's asking for too much and when I go to sleep is when she begins to weep," he sings. "She's appalled by not loving me at all, she wears a frown and dressing gown when she lays down".
It is completely stripped of production or theatrics, and any sort of bravado that carried other parts of the album are completely gone. It's just Matty and a guitar, sung like a first-take demo with all of the raw emotions at the forefront. The way he presents these unfiltered emotions is done in stark contrast to where the album began in a lot of ways, especially with songs like "Love Me" and "She's American", for example.
In an interview with NME, Matty said that this is the song that is the most personal to him. "I'm sure my mum won't mind me saying this, but she told me a story when I was about 17 that she was so gripped with post-natal depression and she remembers coming into my room when I was about a couple of months old, lying on the floor and actively trying to love me. How fucking brutal is that?" he said. "That is brutal, especially considering how close me and my mum are 'cause we are insanely close but that resonated with me so much, I think writing music is such a catharsis and such a personal thing that I think that had to come out....The whole record's completely personal because that's the only reason it gives a purpose for me. It doesn't matter otherwise, I don't care. If I'm not figuring something out there's no point."
I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it is such an important piece in the retrospective evolution of The 1975. It was incredibly ambitious at the time, and many of the creative risks they took here became the foundation for the full creative freedom and world‑building that defined their future releases. Across the album, they play into classic pop tropes in a distinctly post‑modern way, all while maintaining a very specific poetic quality and self‑aware sincerity. It's a long, sprawling pop record that feels witty and hyper‑attuned to modern life, yet still rooted in distinct nostalgic influences that shape it as well. With this record, they made it clear that they are unafraid to blend genres and reference decades of pop history, while still being able to craft a sound completely their own. It really felt indicative at the time of what pop music could be, in terms of the expansive, often ironic, and always heartfelt tone in which so much of this music holds.
Thanks for reading! I have written about The 1975 countless times in the past - all of which are linked here and below. Be sure to check out my ten year anniversary review of their self titled debut album - with many more coming soon!
Photo Credit: Dirty Hit, The 1975, Samuel Burgess-Johnson, David Drake
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