Wake up London, you’re already dead. Both Geese and Wednesday – the two leading Messerschmitt of the new US art rock invasion – are hitting town within weeks of each other and suddenly the listless poise of London’s recent indie rock scene, generally to be found rolling blank-eyed out of the Brixton Windmill with a bent guitar under one arm and a loose ream of kitchen-sink poetry under the other, won’t just do anymore.
Despite their apologetic name, North London’s Sorry are far from the worst offenders (cough – Dry Cleaning). Better on record since 2017, their three albums have been engrossing and inventive collages of styles: indie rock, pop, post-punk, jazz, goth-gaze, you name it. But playing one of their biggest shows to date deep in the bowels of HERE at the Outernet – fresh challenger to Tottenham Hotspur Stadium for the capital’s worst music venue and proof that just because you can get 1,500 people into a pillar-clogged bunker doesn’t mean you should – they almost epitomised an increasingly lacklustre movement in danger of being left dawdling in the yank-rock dust.
