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10 years later: the 1975’s ‘i like it when you sleep’ era.

  • Writer: Josiah Pearlstein
    Josiah Pearlstein
  • 2 days ago
  • 3 min read
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On February 26, 2016, I turned off every light in my room, put on headphones, and listened to I Like It When You Sleep, for You Are So Beautiful Yet So Unaware of It straight through without skipping. That night shifted how I understood commitment, even if I couldn’t have said that out loud at 18.


The moment which led to this started months earlier. I first saw The 1975 live in December 2015 in Tempe, before the album had officially dropped. They wiped their social media that June and reappeared in neon pink, moving away from the black and white look that defined their debut. It was a public shift, and they didn’t walk it back.


That Tempe show included early previews of “Love Me,” “Somebody Else,” and “A Change of Heart”. At most stops they also played “She’s American”, but not that night. The band was sick, so it got cut, and “Settle Down” did too. I still haven’t heard either live.


The crowd was quieter then. People weren’t screaming every lyric yet, and it still felt early, before the songs were everywhere. “Somebody Else” would later become one of their biggest tracks, but it stood out immediately. The instrumental carried weight, and the line “Our love has gone cold, you’re intertwining your soul with somebody else” landed without needing buildup.


When the BBC Radio 1 premieres began, I planned around them. I sat in my car waiting for “Love Me,” “UGH!,” “The Sound,” “Somebody Else,” and “A Change of Heart” to air, and I replayed live recordings on YouTube to hold me over. I’ve heard plenty of songs lose something in the studio. These didn’t. “A Change of Heart” is the clearest example. I barely connected with it live, but the studio version flipped that completely.


When February 26 came, I shut off the lights and pressed play without touching my phone. When “She’s American” started, it hit hard. I had looped a live rip for months, and hearing the finished version felt earned.


I scheduled my lunch break around ticket sales for their Phoenix show at Comerica Theatre. I drove to McDonald’s, opened my laptop, refreshed the page repeatedly, and hoped the Wi-Fi would hold. I wanted to experience the era in real time, not just hear about it later.


When I saw them again in October 2016, it finally came together. The stage had evolved from the debut album’s white triangle to suspended glowing rectangles, and LED cityscapes warped with the music. Every track carried its own visual identity, but “This Must Be My Dream” was the moment that stuck with me. It moved through deep blues and shifting waves, and they debuted it that night, one of the only times it was ever played. The visuals always felt baked in, rather than just added on.


A reviewer described lightning, waves, pastels, city lights, and prisms moving across massive screens and wrote “fucking beautiful lights” in her notebook. The production elevated the songs without overwhelming them.


Later tours grew larger. The Music for Cars Tour expanded the rectangle concept, and the At Their Very Best Tour introduced a full house set that turned the stage into a domestic interior. The shows became more theatrical, and they were different from 2016.


The 1975's 'I love it when you sleep' era still feels distinct to me. The timing, the look, and the fact that I was 18 won’t line up like that again. Watching them erase their presence, rebuild it, and commit to a direction that could have failed reshaped how I think about momentum. They moved forward instead of protecting what had already worked. That choice defined the era.


That experience still affects how I approach my own work. When something feels aligned, I stick with it, even when it would be easier to stay comfortable. I got the black rectangle tattoo at 19 because of that era, and it marked a decision to stop stalling.


I don’t sit in parking lots fighting Wi-Fi for presales anymore. Life at 28 looks different than it did at 18, but February 26 remains fixed for me. That era didn’t just soundtrack a period of my life. It clarified what commitment looks like when you’re building something, and I’ve carried that forward.


I definitely recommend checking out The 1975's recorded full live show from The 02. during that period. It can be found here.

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Josiah Pearlstein
Founder and Editor, Chatpastel
B.S. in Communication and Sociology · Arizona State University

His work focuses on digital culture, public perception, and long-form social analysis through a sociological and communication lens. In his spare time, he enjoys experiencing local cultures and petting stray cats.

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