Sorry live review: gigs will alway be the best place to make friends
I’ve always been a firm believer in the fact that a gig can be one of the best places to solidify a friendship. I met my best friend at a Fat White Family gig a few years ago, battling for survival in the sweaty pit where frontman Lias Saoudi was tearing through the audience in skin-coloured underwear, his oiled body leaving a trail of grease across bewildered fans.
I have countless other memories of meeting new friends or simply enjoying a fleeting moment of excited enjoyment with a stranger at a gig; it’s among these like-minded people that I’ve truly found a sense of community, one backed by the throb of a familiar bassline and the scent of spilt pints.
Thus, when I found myself with a spare ticket for Sorry at my favourite venue, Leeds’ Brudenell Social Club, I decided to do something a little different, and ask someone I hardly knew to come with me. I’d met my new friend on a handful of nights out over the past year, but we’d never met up, just the two of us, despite the fact that we seemed to have a lot in common. With a newfound sense of confidence, I asked her if she wanted to come to the gig, and miraculously, she accepted the offer.
When I arrived at the venue, everyone seemed to be in good spirits, predominantly caused by the sun shining and Leeds winning the Championship earlier in the day, no doubt. While the heat outside was glorious, in the main gig room, people were crowding to see RIP Magic (led by Sorry’s Marco Pini) instead. They’re one of those exciting new bands making waves in the London scene that you have to see live to experience – not just because they have no music on streaming services yet, but rather due to their talent for crafting an addictive sonic world situated somewhere between ‘90s indie and modern synth-laden experimentation.
Just after nine, Sorry took to the stage, and I was delighted to hear tracks like ‘Snakes’, ‘Right Round the Clock’ and ‘Starstruck’ from the band’s first album, 925, which remind me of my first years of university, when I played the tracks on loop as I got ready for nights out, walked to lectures, and danced around my room. While my new friend didn’t have these same memories attached to these songs – most of which she was hearing for the first time – we danced together as if she knew them as well as I did, the gig becoming a new memory to add to the bank of fun moments in my life inescapably soundtracked by Sorry.
The band has been a constant in the soundtrack of my life since 2018 (‘Starstruck’ was admittedly my top song on Spotify for about three years in a row), and seven years later, I found myself enjoying the band just as much as I did back then. There is something so special about hearing those songs – the ones that remind you of formative times in your life – played right in front of you, and there’s a certain magic to knowing a memory is forming in your mind at the same time.
So, if you ever find yourself wanting to reach out to someone new, suggest going to a gig. Whether your potential new friend knows the band or goes in blind, the shared joy of live music will never fail to form a glue between you. Being in a space where you can freely dance, sing, and let your guard down makes for the perfect setting to bond with someone new, and isn’t that what consuming art is all about?
