Creating an album can sometimes feel like life or death, especially for a band as creative as
British metalcore legends Architects. But this time, the creation process necessitated that they
go through the ultimate rebirth. “It wasn’t about just putting out another Architects record. It
had to be the record—the one people talk about when they talk about our band,” says frontman
Sam Carter. Bandmate Dan Searle echoes this sentiment about their new work, The Sky, The
Earth & All Between: “What we’re trying to say is that we had to make the quintessential
Architects album—bringing together all our best qualities and everything we excel at.”
Few bands make it to their 11th album and deliver their best music, but Architects have done
just that. Touring stadiums with Metallica for two years gave them clarity: they could
legitimately do this forever, something that hadn’t felt possible when they began the band as
scrappy teenagers. In fact, they realised they were only halfway through their career, provided
they stayed passionate and kept their creative edge. “Maybe we’re not rich enough to be
lacklustre yet,” Searle jokes, “but there’s always that fear you’ll be seen as your powers
dwindling album by album. I think some people felt that way after our last couple of records
because we experimented with our identity. But we’re growing in a way that’s unique—you
don’t see it often.”
The last couple of albums For Those That Wish To Exist and The Classic Symptoms of a Broken
Spirit had been about attempting the new. When those records performed well critically and
commercially, that was their green light to pursue whatever they wanted to. So, they resolved
to channel the lessons learned from innovation into making something that felt like the pinnacle
of what Architects have long been evolving towards.
One of the band’s most beloved songs, “Doomsday,” was a tribute to Tom Searle, Dan’s brother
and fellow Architects member who passed away in 2016. Written with Bring Me The Horizon’s
Jordan Fish, it left them curious if they’d ever collaborate again. When Fish left Bring Me in
2023, Architects were the first artist or band to bring him on board to produce, freeing Dan
Searle from his usual production duties to focus entirely on creativity. Fish’s involvement
brought fresh energy. “It didn’t hurt working with him when he was extremely hungry and had
a point to prove,” says Searle.
Three weeks of work began in a private Brighton studio. The pressure was intense, but the
process was—ironically considering how seriously they were taking this—more fun than
they’d had in years. The shared British sense of humour in the room lightened the mood,
leading to funny samples and moments of silliness amongst some of their heaviest music yet.
“If we made something and the three of us all laughed it almost always stayed on the record. I think we often found ourselves making the tasteless tasteful which was a lot of fun,” says
Searle.
It’s part and parcel of the British sensibility to be able to laugh at yourself, which contributed
to the choice of the brutal and humorous “Seeing Red” as the first single from this record.
Against the semi-ironic use of Carter’s trademark “blegh”s, the frontman lyrically outlines how
the band can feel stuck in the box of genre, patrolled by fans who want them to repeat the angry
songs they love. “I think a lot of people felt like ‘Seeing Red’ was us taking the piss out of
people that like our band, but I think it was just the same amount of us sort of being able to
have fun with ourselves and taking the piss out of ourselves,” explains Carter.
Searle reflects on the balance they struck across the creation of the album: “You have to take
it so seriously because it’s precious to us, but you also have to not take it too seriously. If you
cling too tightly or impose too many boundaries, which we’ve perhaps done in the past, it kills
the music.”
The resulting The Sky, The Earth & All Between is a masterful rock album, forever shifting
between aggressive, melodic, and experimental sounds while maintaining a cohesive vision.
The grandiosity of the title reflects its ambition, but the music feels effortless—an elemental
summation of everything Architects have been and could become. From the ferocious single
“Blackhole” to the pop-metal brilliance of “Everything Ends,” every track demonstrates an
instinctive hand at blending sounds.
The camaraderie and push for freedom in the recording studio encouraged Searle to embrace
further vulnerability in his lyrics. “Some songs are tongue-in-cheek and came more naturally
to me, like ‘Whiplash’, ‘Braindead’ and ‘Judgement Day’ because they’re writing about what
most of us can plainly see—but others are so sincere and full of pain,” Searle admits. “I don’t
tend to share how I feel with those around me so to do so in the songs is always uncomfortable
for me. There were times I questioned if I really meant what I was saying. Then I’d listen while
in pain, and it all made sense.”
The album closes on a poignant note with the atmospheric ballad “Chandelier.” Initially, Searle
saw the lyrics—“No more lies when I disappear / One less light on the chandelier”—as bleak,
hinting at being better off dead. But over time, he reinterpreted them as a celebration of life’s
fragility. “The chandelier is life, and that’s worth celebrating while we’re here,” he says.
This perspective shift reflects Searle’s personal journey of existentialism during the album’s
creation. “I started in a strange, difficult place, but turning 37 made me realize I have an
opportunity to find peace,” he shares. The album, fittingly, ends on a hopeful note. “I don’t
want to be the band constantly preaching how terrible life is, but I also won’t shy away from
that experience because so many of us relate to it.”
Carter, who often gravitates toward darker themes, adds, “There are days I’m a complete mess
and tell the boys I can’t do it, and better days when I find the drive to keep going. It’s never
finite, but it’s always moving forward.”
The band has moved beyond the raw loss of losing Tom Searle, which eventually made their
performances feel like “grief tourism,” as Dan puts it. Carter felt he had to access that pain and
next level of vulnerability each night in order to provide catharsis, until Searle eventually
stepped in and told him he didn’t have to do it anymore, since it was clearly negatively
impacting him. “Some people sort of froze us in time there and wanted us to be this pool of
tears every time we rocked up at a venue,” says Searle, explaining that their following two
albums felt like a reaction to that. After moving through their own backlash to that complex
emotional odyssey as musicians, they’re ready to embrace a clean slate.
Now, with a sharp innovation and renewed hunger, Architects are that longstanding band at the
height of their powers. “We’ve created The Architects record,” Carter declares, “and we’re
going to push it up a hill, even if it fucking kills us.”
