On a crisp fall afternoon in 2015, I came home from school to find my mom sitting at our kitchen table, a postcard shaking in her hands. \u201cYou got something,\u201d she says warily. \u201cI don\u2019t\u2026 who is it from? It\u2019s\u2026 creepy.\u201d She flashes the card at me, and I see a neon pink sign shining against a white background, with five rows of lettering: I LIKE IT WHEN YOU SLEEP, FOR YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL YET SO UNAWARE OF IT.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cOh my god,\u201d I gasp, snatching the card from her hands. \u201cIt\u2019s from the 1975!\u201d<\/p>\n
I\u2019d been a devoted 1975 believer since their debut<\/a>, graduating from One Direction standom to align my identity and personality with a grungier, scuzzier group of British men. Almost like One Direction Warios. Stills from the \u201cSex\u201d music video came up on my Tumblr dashboard one time my freshman year of high school, and I was forever changed (and I\u2019m still certain their stage lighting going viral on the platform kickstarted their ascent). I was a questionably young audience member at their Terminal 5 run a year later, bearing direct witness to frontman Matty Healy\u2019s flailing, bottle-of-red-deep on-stage persona that, at that point, wasn\u2019t really a persona so much as a guy already teetering on the verge of not okay. But the years of Topshop Jamie jeans, American Apparel skater skirts, smudgy eyeliner, and the T1 VSCO filter were good to me. Probably a little too good.\u00a0<\/p>\n A half hour into their 2025 live album Still\u2026 At Their Very Best, Healy baits the crowd: \u201cDon\u2019t be nostalgic\u2026 don\u2019t do it!\u201d Manchester\u2019s AO Arena coos knowingly at the opening melody of \u201cA Change of Heart,\u201d the first song in their set from the band\u2019s sophomore LP, I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it.\u00a0<\/p>\n Unfortunately, being nostalgic is one of my favorite things to do. And few albums hit my water sign romanticizer core harder than I like it when you sleep. There\u2019s just nothing like being 16-going-on-17, a fresh junior license glistening in your hands, the new CD from your favorite band soundtracking your earliest drives around your hometown. I knew how formative it was as it was happening: screaming along to \u201cLove Me,\u201d lyrics already memorized an hour after it dropped; whipping across three lanes of traffic to the tune of \u201cShe\u2019s American;\u201d unknowingly playing my mom a song about Healy\u2019s recurring coke problem (\u201cUGH!\u201d); going 30 over the speed limit on a solo beach drive to belt out \u201cThe Ballad of Me and My Brain\u201d in peace. It feels sorta last-chopper-outta-\u2018Nam of me; teendom before the age of complete brainrot.<\/p>\n In recent years, the 1975<\/a> have treated themselves more as a legacy act than anything else. Their At Their Very Best tour, coupled with their most recent studio LP (2022\u2019s Antonoff-pilled Being Funny in a Foreign Language), feels like both a swan song and a reintroduction. Healy\u2019s always been almost painfully self-critical, poking fun at past and present versions of himself throughout his lyrics. But ten years down the line, he\u2019s criticizing versions of himself we all saw firsthand. The opening track on Being Funny includes the line \u201cYou\u2019re making an aesthetic out of not doing well and \/ Mining all the bits of you you think you can sell,\u201d which immediately makes me think of Healy at those earliest shows, drinking on stage to the point of blacking out, slurring across his already mumbly lyrics, at times carried off-stage by his bandmates. He was smoking heroin and doing coke, and would end up going to rehab at the end of the ILIWYS tour (he\u2019d then use again before quitting cold turkey a year later).\u00a0<\/p>\n And that\u2019s not necessarily Healy romanticizing his addiction; it was just how he was showing up in front of his impressionable, mostly teenage audience at that time. And the fans, for better or worse, ate it up. Ate him up as a frontman, idolized him in all his disarray, and took his instability as authenticity. Healy was vulnerable and untethered, and we felt like we knew everything about him. Life\u2019s a bitch, and this guy sure thinks so, too. He gets it. He has real problems, problems so real we can\u2019t even really understand them, we just know he packages his emotions in such a heightened, almost melodramatic way that directly speaks to our volatile teenage existences. The yearning, the commiserating. We can all be horrible and unhappy together. The \u201cRobbers\u201d music video had us swooning over a guy actively holding a loaded gun to his girlfriend\u2019s head, and before people were self-diagnosing on TikTok, we were on Tumblr hosting the Fandom Depression Olympics: Well, how many times has \u201cAntichrist\u201d made you want to end it all? But did you cry after losing your virginity to \u201cSex\u201d?? Healy\u2019s lack of on-stage inhibitions mirrored the cathartic emotional release that traveled through the crowd, shouting along to lines like \u201cNow everybody\u2019s dead!\u201d or \u201cAnd it\u2019s not my fault \/ That I fucked everybody here!\u201d like mating calls that we couldn\u2019t exactly relate to on our own, borrowing Healy\u2019s edge and grunge that defined so much of the band\u2019s early catalog.\u00a0<\/p>\n THE 1975\u2019S LORE WAS just starting to bubble in the I like it when you sleep era, which capitalized on the cult following that came with their debut by pink-ifying their signature black-and-white rectangle aesthetic and treating the release like a secret (hence the unsolicited postcards teasing song titles). The album is built on self-reference, doubling down on the group\u2019s lore and mythology, Healy\u2019s identity and persona continuing to blur together.\u00a0<\/p>\n I like it when you sleep starts with a reinterpretation of their debut opener, \u201cThe 1975,\u201d a kind of band theme song (each album since has included the self-titled opening track), giving off the feeling that you are stepping into an experience when you press play on a 1975 album. There\u2019s an inherent nostalgia built in, using familiar chord structures to create a knotty, twisted web between different branches of the 1975 discography. \u201cLostmyhead\u201d repurposes a melody line from the debut deluxe track \u201cFacedown,\u201d and I can distinctly remember the \u201cwait, am I psychic?\u201d feeling of already singing along to it on my first listen. \u201cA Change of Heart\u201d calls back to lyrics from debut tracks \u201cRobbers\u201d and \u201cThe City\u201d (\u201cYou used to have a face straight out of a magazine \/ Now you just look like anyone\u201d and \u201cI never found love in the city,\u201d respectively), establishing a sort of 1975 Sonic Universe for fans to unpack and analyze.<\/p>\n The 1975\u2019s vision has always involved forging connections in the midst of upheaval and chaos, and their acknowledgement of that chaos has only grown more pointed. On I like it when you sleep, it\u2019s done via verbose, rambling half-joke lyrics set to \u201880s funk synthwave pop, bridging their catchy debut sound and the experimental edge to come. There\u2019s a second-album-ness to it that can border on clich\u00e9, the predictable acknowledgement that fame is weird and can mess you up a little. (The music video for \u201cThe Sound\u201d unsubtly depicts the band performing inside a glass box, a spectacle for others to judge, while their performance is cut with quick-hit critiques across a pink background: vapid, derivative pop; pretentious; unimaginative; annoying.) But Healy is often so lyrically witty that he gets away with it. Lead single \u201cLove Me\u201d is a funk-forward word salad (\u201cKarcrashian panache\u201d) about being scrutinized and fawned over, set to Adam Hann\u2019s bright guitar tones, Ross MacDonald dancing across the bass, and George Daniel\u2019s steady backbeat. Healy dissects not only his own rise to fame but also those of his newfound peers, going so far as to surround himself with cardboard cutouts of Harry Styles, Mr. Bean, Ed Sheeran, and Elvis, among others, in the music video. \u201cYou look famous, let\u2019s be friends and portray we possess something important,\u201d he sings, almost prophetically, to Charli XCX<\/a>\u2019s cutout in that addictive descending drawl.<\/p>\n Later, on \u201cThe Ballad of Me and My Brain,\u201d Healy wails about physically misplacing his mind. Where\u2019s it gone? A car? A train? A Sainsbury\u2019s? He\u2019s interrupted by an onlooker (\u201cAnd would you sign an autograph for my daughter Laura? \/ Cause she adores you \/ But I think you\u2019re shit\u201d); someone is always trying to get something from him. It\u2019s about fame, yes, but it\u2019s also about any situation where you feel out of body, where you don\u2019t recognize yourself, where you could\u2019ve sworn you had it all together, but then one thing happened, and you\u2019re left on your hands and knees, blindly patting at the ground looking for your psyche. There\u2019s a desperation in his voice bolstered by Daniel\u2019s booming, syncopated drums, adding to the track\u2019s sense of urgency. The hopelessness extends outward on \u201cIf I Believe You,\u201d as Healy looks to a higher power he doesn\u2019t believe in for reprieve or guidance, to fill the \u201cGod-shaped hole\u201d in his chest that leaves him scrambling, scattered, and overwhelmed by the banalities of existence. The repeated \u201cIf I\u2019m lost, then how can I find myself\u201d hits a little harder after he begs through the opening verses. Healy rationalizes with God, stating plainly: \u201cIf it was you who made my body \/ You probably shouldn\u2019t have made me atheist.\u201d<\/p>\n Healy channels that devotion when writing about drugs, bringing some of his sharpest, most self-aware analyses. \u201cDo you have a card? \/ My irregular heartbeat \/ Is starting to correct itself\u201d on \u201cUGH!\u201d left little to the imagination, while subtler lines like \u201cI said I\u2019m done, babe I\u2019m out of the scene \/ But I was picking up from Bethnal Green\u201d on \u201cParis\u201d sneakily weave themselves into the rest of the album\u2019s narrative. On \u201cThe Sound,\u201d he calls himself a junkie in passing, tacking it onto the end of a list of his other traits: \u201csycophantic, prophetic, Socratic, junkie wannabe.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n THE MOST OUTWARDLY political track on I like it when you sleep is \u201cLoving Someone,\u201d a wordy and rhythmically intricate talk-rap track that the band performed under rainbow lights on the ILIWYS tour. On their Live from the O2 album, recorded a month after the 2016 election, Healy introduces the song by saying, \u201cI\u2019m not here to talk about politics, we\u2019re not here to think about politics, we\u2019re here for a release, we\u2019re here for some music.\u201d Someone in the crowd yells, \u201cFuck Donald Trump!\u201d which kicks him into an impassioned, two-minute monologue on turning anger into empathy: \u201cI know it\u2019s very sad to see all of these young voices of progression and change being drowned out by regressive ideas and bullshit\u2026 But it\u2019s also about a lot of these people who voted against what we stand for; they feel so disenfranchised by both sides of the political system\u2026 It\u2019s our responsibility to be compassionate, to listen to everybody, to listen to their concerns and move things forward.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n The song\u2019s narrative became even more relevant in the wake of Trump\u2019s election, speaking to the rigged systems for disseminating information meant to cause harm and keep people from questioning the world around them. (The song is like the slam-poetry version of Healy\u2019s lead-in speech: \u201cAnd disenfranchised young criminal minds \/ In a car park beside where your nan resides \/ Are not slow, they\u2019ve just never been shown\u201d). When the song ends at the O2, Healy cuts the tension before kicking into \u201cShe\u2019s American\u201d\u2014\u201cFuck politics, let\u2019s do some dancing.\u201d<\/p>\n Even the most straightforward tracks on I like it when you sleep\u2014the ones that shot the 1975 further into the mainstream and\/or have entered the canon since\u2014have something about them that makes you do a double-take. \u201cShe\u2019s American,\u201d which is little more than one big diss track for their American audience (or, depending on who you ask, specifically for Halsey), drops the phrase \u201cproper weird\u201d in the middle of the bridge. It\u2019s such simple phrasing that it almost sounds out of place on the same album as a line like \u201cCharlatan telepathy exploiting insecurity and praying on the purity \/ Of grief and its simplicity.\u201d Meanwhile, the moody, midtempo \u201cSomebody Else\u201d is built on lyrical parallelism that haunts me to this day. There\u2019s just something about \u201cI\u2019m looking through you while you\u2019re looking through your phone\u201d that makes my spine tingle. The synths curl and loop with Healy\u2019s lush vocal delivery, so the melody feels like it\u2019s circling itself. It\u2019s countered with some more blunt, simple phrases, though \u201cFuck that get money\u201d isn\u2019t necessarily my favorite bridge, sitting somewhere on the \u201cproper weird\u201d side of the lyrical spectrum.<\/p>\n Healy\u2019s wordiest lyrics are delivered with a phrasing that never makes them feel overstuffed, even if it takes a couple of listens to fully get what he\u2019s saying. Between the repetition on the shimmery, unassuming dream-pop \u201cThis Must Be My Dream,\u201d Healy sneaks in the backhanded \u201cWell I thought it was love \/ But I guess I must be dreaming \/ \u2018Bout feeling something instead of you,\u201d while a song like the mellow bop \u201cParis,\u201d sitting tucked away in the second half, is packed with blink-and-you-miss-it moments. You\u2019re so focused on \u201cHey kids, we\u2019re all just the same, what a shame\u201d that you completely whizz past the \u201cThere was a party that she had to miss \/ Because her friend kept cutting her wrists \/ Hyper-politicized sexual trysts \/ Oh, I think my boyfriend\u2019s a nihilist\u201d that comes before it. Packs a much bigger punch than fan-favorite \u201cBabe, you look so cool\u201d off debut standout \u201cRobbers.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n I like it when you sleep is long-ish, albeit not necessarily by the 1975 standards. The deluxe debut\u2014which, real ones know, is its true form\u2014has almost 40 songs. Despite their sophomore effort being only 17 tracks, it feels longer when you consider that almost 20 of its 75 minutes are used up by ambient, trancey meanderings that only start to hint at the glitchy techno moments that would become fully realized on their next record, A Brief Inquiry. The Brian Eno-cosplaying \u201cPlease Be Naked\u201d and the wandering title track pale in comparison to \u201cLostmyhead,\u201d the best in the album\u2019s instrumental triad. The guitar\u2019s phasers chase each other in cascading falls. When the beat finally breaks open, it feels exactly like the David Bowie \u201cHeroes\u201d needledrop in The Perks of Being a Wallflower, that same kind of euphoric release. Each of these tracks offers a moment for patience and contemplation. Similarly to their debut\u2019s piano-only closer \u201cIs There Somebody Who Can Watch You,\u201d I like it when you sleep ends on two acoustic tracks, \u201cNana\u201d and \u201cShe Lays Down,\u201d written for Healy\u2019s grandmother and mother, respectively. These tracks serve the same purpose as on the debut: letting the dust of the preceding craziness settle, grounding itself in the themes of home and family, allowing Healy to return home and recalibrate his center after the rush.<\/p>\n I like it when you sleep is indulgent, yes, and occasionally bloated. It\u2019s verbose and sometimes self-satisfied. But it\u2019s also self-aware, constantly folding back on itself, repurposing melodies and calling back to old narratives as it builds its own mythology. The sprawl makes more sense when you hear it as the sound of a group figuring themselves out as the world watches, mistaking instability for identity, and selling it back to us as connection.\u00a0<\/p>\n IN THE YEARS SINCE I like it when you sleep, the name Matty Healy has become synonymous with controversy, conflict, and misunderstanding. Lesser things like eating raw meat on stage and making out with fans sit alongside his very public beef with fellow artists, many of them women of color, like Rina Sawayama<\/a>, Ice Spice<\/a>, and Azealia Banks<\/a>. He\u2019s toed the line of cancellation for years, tweeting the band\u2019s song \u201cLove It If We Made It\u201d (which includes the lyrics \u201cSelling melanin and then suffocate the Black men\u201d) beneath a post speaking out against George Floyd\u2019s murder, which prompted accusations of him using the BLM movement as an opportunity to self-promote. When performing that same song in 2023, he flashed a nazi salute when singing the Trump-quoting lyric \u201cThank you, Kanye, very cool,\u201d bringing on a frenzy of debate around his intentions. His apologies would often sit squarely between \u201cSorry you misinterpreted me\u201d and \u201cSorry I said that.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n He\u2019s since established himself as a kind of post-woke, realist liberal figure who would rather disengage and make TikToks for Dax Flame<\/a> than risk being misunderstood. That in itself, though, is its own kind of controversy\u2014his ability to step away or ignore is a privilege, albeit\u00a0 also a bit of a lose-lose situation. But at a certain point, he decided it was best to disengage entirely (\u201cHaving manic episodes on Twitter at 35 is kinda pathetic,\u201d he posted in 2024).\u00a0<\/p>\n Healy\u2019s now in his STFU, California-sober, lounging-with-his-model-fianc\u00e9e period of life, coming out from behind the mask of this brash, over-the-top persona that he\u2019d spent the previous decade crafting\u2014the persona that, at one point, was more or less him. I think of Healy now as a person who will say one profound thought for every five impulsive, half-baked ideas he lets escape his mouth. Like how that clip of him<\/a> talking to Zane Lowe about artists who monetize fan connection recirculated during Harry Styles\u2019s recent ticket-pricing fiasco: \u201cDo it where it\u2019s 20 quid a meet-and-greet, and every single fan, before they touch you, go, \u2018Lemme see that 20.\u2019 You\u2019ll do it for two minutes and you\u2019ll never fucking do it again, because you\u2019ll realize it\u2019s disgraceful.\u201d He really used up all his sense-making brainpower for the year with that one!<\/p>\n I like it when you sleep has aged better than I would\u2019ve expected at the time. Compared to the records to come\u2014the tech-political heavy A Brief Inquiry; the expansive, if unfocused, Notes on a Conditional Form\u2014it\u2019s simultaneously more and less on the nose. As time\u2019s gone on, we\u2019ve seen Healy address this era of his life and the band. A Brief Inquiry\u2019s \u201cGive Yourself A Try\u201d is set up as talking to his younger self, Healy warning 2014-him of the downward spiral to come (\u201cAnd you\u2019ll make a lot of money, and it\u2019s funny \/ \u2018Cause you\u2019ll move somewhere sunny and get addicted to drugs\u201d). It\u2019s a sharper interrogation of his own life, an autobiographical reckoning, rather than something like \u201cLove Me,\u201d which looks outward in equal measure.<\/p>\n The way Healy chronicles his life through his music allows us to track not only his mental and political evolution but also his personal evolution across the 1975 discography. His situation during I like it when you sleep is expectedly clearer in hindsight: mid-20s, mid-addiction, mid-achieving something he\u2019d been working toward for almost a decade. The record teems with coming-of-age themes that are even more relatable for the 1975\u2019s audience who feel like they\u2019ve gone through all of Healy\u2019s problems with him, as much as he\u2019s gone through all their problems with them. That parasociality is at the core of what it is to be a 1975 fan.<\/p>\n Looking back on the music of your teenage years can be embarrassing. Lyrics that once seemed groundbreaking to you can now seem trite and corny\u2014and that\u2019s certainly the case for much of the mid-2010s indie rock that bordered on Tumblr poetry. The 1975 is no exception. But if there\u2019s anything the 1975\u2019s discography has shown us, it\u2019s that you\u2019re never really done growing up. I like it when you sleep stands the test of time as an irreverent, bold, audacious chapter in the history of a band and a frontman that\u2019s since defined a generation of alt online teenagers desperate to find their way. Behind the neon pink haze is an almost unrightfully brave Healy, much too young to be this confident about putting out a record as unabashed and openly confused as this.\u00a0<\/p>\n Watch The 1975 play at Stage on Sixth in 2013 below.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n