Indie rock band Sorry have come a long way since their first release in 2020, and the North London quintet has struck gold with their third album Cosplay. There’s a certain irony in this title, it sounds like passing by an old friend in a distant city – both familiar and unrecognisable. It is that unrecognizability that makes it such a thrilling listen.
It opens with ‘Echoes’, an earworm designed for unconscious humming and CarPlay speakers. A swan song for a dying love, its chorus is incantatory; its production hazy and shimmery. Its only pitfall is its predictability but to call it a weak opener would be a disservice, its simply less strong than the following tracks.
Where ‘Echoes’ clings to the formulaic dogma that most twenties indie rock bands tend to cling to (think bands like Lime Garden and Radio Free Alice), ‘Jetplane’ dresses itself in the garb of punk and pulls it off fabulously. It is this effortless genre-hopping, bending and melding that makes this album unclassifiable: somewhere between trip-hop, punk, folk, pop, and “how do they do better?” ‘Jetplane’ itself is an excellent song, and it is hard to imagine a Sorry gig omitting a song that is so tailor-made for performance. Listening feels like one of those dreams that double as premonitions, with Asha Lorenz beckoning “Come and see us live/we rock”.
‘Love Posture’ is followed by ‘Antelope’, and they couldn’t have more different personalities. One is built on gentle guitars, melancholic poetry, Bob Dylan, and confession. The other is loud and built for dancing and singing along to; its drums are ferocious and Lorenz’s voice and guitar break like thunderstorms with its crescendos. In sequence, they unlock something about one another.
Cosplay’s second half outdoes its first. It plays host to standouts like ‘Life In This Body’, where Lorenz trades lead vocals with Louis O’Bryen. An ode to unrequited love, it is unrepentant in its melancholy, and never fails to impress in its beauty: understated, mellifluous, and an expansion of a world well-trodden by The National and Sufjan Stevens.
Make no mistake, there’s no pretentiousness in this album with proved by eighth track ‘Waxwing’. Its opening notes are like a vignette of Boards of Canada; synthesisers usurping guitars to craft a song somewhere down the street from trip-hop and across the way from indie pop. But mopey love poetry gives way to TikTok references, and Lorenz chooses to tell, not show. It couldn’t have been written by someone with an MFA. That’s why it works: it’s honest, it’s fun, it’s alive, and it’s the best track on this album.
There’s always been something about Sorry. Since their debut album, their sound stood apart from their contemporaries. Their independence and creativity is inherently accessible. It’s a wonder they haven’t received more recognition: their previous albums, Anywhere But Here, and 925 were fantastic. Cosplay just does it right.
Now, they’ve found their sound, and it’s marvellously unapologetic. The first half of the record does pale in the light of the second half’s poetry in motion. And, despite the love I have for their past releases, it does make you wonder were they sleepwalking before? Either way, Sorry has nothing to apologise for with Cosplay.
8/10
