Sorry by Deeping Disaster Area: A Wild Ride Through Glitchy Chaos
Alright, let’s get this straight—Sorry by Deeping Disaster Area isn’t your grandma’s chill-out album. Nope. This is a brain-melting, glitch-heavy slap in the face that demands attention. Released back in 2005 under Project 168 (shoutout to UK for keeping it weird), this IDM banger is like sticking your finger into an electrical socket and liking it.
First off, "William Shatner Changed My Life." Yeah, you read that right. What kind of messed-up genius names a track after Captain Kirk? But here’s the thing—it WORKS. The beat hits like some kinda cyberpunk fever dream where Shatner himself hijacks your Spotify playlist. It's got these stuttering breaks that feel like they’re falling apart but somehow stay glued together, ya know? Like watching Trek reruns while someone smashes keyboards nearby. You don’t forget something like that. Ever.
Then there’s “Deeping Dance Fever,” which sounds exactly how its name implies—like dancing at 3 AM when everyone else has passed out on the floor. The synths spiral outta control, bouncing between euphoric highs and glitchy lows so fast you might need a seatbelt. If you’ve ever wanted to feel like a malfunctioning robot trying to bust a move, congrats, here’s your anthem.
The rest of the tracks ain’t slouches either. “Interlewd (Blasphemy Mix)” brings the noise with enough distortion to make your speakers cry uncle, and “Shatner’s Comeback”? Dude, just listen to it. I can’t even explain what happens halfway through without sounding like I’m trippin’.
Here’s the kicker though—this album shouldn’t work. An electronic record from 2005 named Sorry, with songs about William fing Shatner? Sounds like a recipe for disaster, right? Yet somehow, Deeping Disaster Area pulls it off. Maybe it’s the sheer audacity of it all. Or maybe it’s because we live in a world where normal music gets boring real quick.
So yeah, if you’re looking for something safe, predictable, or easy to digest, go stream whatever pop garbage dominates the charts today. But if you wanna take a wild ride down a rabbit hole of broken beats and WTF moments, hit play on Sorry. Just don’t blame me if your neighbors start wondering why your apartment sounds like a dying spaceship.
Oh, and one last thing—why does every review sound like it was written by someone sipping chamomile tea? Screw that. Music should hit hard, leave bruises, and make you question reality. And trust me, this album does ALL of that. Now turn it up loud enough to piss someone off. You won’t regret it.
