*All events are 21+ valid ID required for entry*
*Attendees are encouraged to wear masks while not actively drinking*
7PM - Doors
8PM - Show
SORRY
Who are Sorry? A gang of fools consisting of Asha Lorenz and Louis O’Bryen, Campbell Baum, Marco Pini and Lincoln Barrett. They have been making music together since their teens, have released one acclaimed album, a batch of singles and a series of videos co-directed by their songwriter and vocalist, Asha and her best friend Flo Webb (FLASHA Prod). Emerging from Brixton’s Windmill scene, where they played alongside Shame, Goat Girl and Black Midi, Sorry have created their own distinctive musical world – one that draws together a shared passion for lo-fi sounds of grunge, trap, and shoegaze.
CHARLOTTE ROSE BENJAMIN
Dreamtina
The very first sound you hear is a doubled, drifting vocal calling out the name of early aughts teen movie star, Hayden Panettiere. A garage trio slams in, and from the first minute of Charlotte Rose Benjamin’s debut album, Dreamtina onward, we are on a journey somewhere between desperate and audacious, yet sunny as a Beach Boys record.
“Dreamtina is the beautiful girl with the cool outfit you see on the subway or at a coffee shop,” Benjamin explains, “she’s my cross to bear and my altar ego.” As a Gen Z/Millennial cusp it makes perfect sense that Hayden Panettiere would be an early informant of Benjamin’s concept for Dreamtina, but the humor and specificity in naming the opening track after the head cheerleader from the Bring it On franchise is where Benjamin really shines as a writer. Her lyrics can be startlingly honest at times and shamelessly pleading; take the 90’s alt rock inspired track “Cumbie’s Parking Lot,” in which she begs for someone to “take pictures of [her] and post them on the internet.” Or in “satisfied,” a track with a Moldy Peaches campfire style earnestness hijacked by a Weezer-like gargantuan hook, in which she recounts a story about a recent ex boyfriend accidentally showing up to one of her shows. Dreamtina’s funny moments bring depth and self awareness to its more serious notes. In “Deep Cut,” an intimate dance of waltzing guitars and delicate melancholy, Benjamin confesses that she’s “built like a strainer, a useless container” and it becomes clear that Benjamin writes because she has to. You get the feeling that funny or sad, we are listening to her catharsis.