Ultra creative London art-rockers Sorry are back with their first new music since last year’s debut album 925. A pair of new singles and videos that were created over the last year of separation, they find the band delving back into the textured unpredictability of their early mixtapes. They say:
“These songs came from ideas we worked on from home during last year. The sounds are quite metallic / silver / grey and the lyrical ideas are repetitive almost as if they are whispers / mantras / worries that you’d say to yourself and keep to yourself.”
That quote pretty much sums up the two new offerings, as Sorry eschew the guitar riffs and outspoken hooks of 925 and turn insular with more organic sounds – to wholly charming results. “Cigarette Packet” is an impatiently percolating track that spirals into confessions unhealthy desires with Asha Lorenz’s usual chameleonic ease. Adding clicking and clanging atmospherics all around, Sorry make “Cigarette Packet” a vividly inhabitable state of anticipation.
“Separate” is a more meditative song, see-sawing on what sounds like toy beeps and whirrs as Asha Lorenz dives into her circuitous thoughts about her physicality and the way she relates to others. It’s a kind of paranoid meditation – but one that’s certainly fun to get spinning around your skull.
Both tracks come with videos that extrapolate on Sorry’s signature homespun aesthetic. They say:
“We try and make the videos in a playful way whilst also expressing lots of mood and emotion; the use of black space and never showing full faces or using objects (like the toy cars) makes it feel like they’re flashes of thought or surreal memories. We loosely based ‘Separate’ on the J. G. Ballard novel Crash. It’s as if the water is his mind and he’s relaying or planning the series of crashes with the toy cars. Most of all, the videos are used for the colour splash or the movement to give the song almost another layer of rhythm that’s maybe audibly invisible but you visually can feel it within the song.
“With ‘Cigarette Packet’, we wanted it to feel claustrophobic and for intensity to build where it felt right. The mouths all merge into one voice, by the end it’s hard to tell who’s saying what, as if all your friends or people you meet are just parts of you. It’s weird what your mind chooses to hear or remember.”