NME cites up-and-coming indie rock act ‘Eight Legs’ as “the music equivalent of Cristiano Ronaldo”…right. If we are to actually equate music to football for a second here, ‘Eight Legs’ would be a five-a-side/jumpers for goalposts soccer team who dream to play alongside the likes of Gerrard and Lampard but all end up playing for a team like Torquay or something.
The hype for these boys is quite simply a crock of contrived hyperbole; their new single ‘Best Of Me’ is over-familiar, tired, and underwhelming — not once do the quirky riffs, snare rolling and Ricky Wilson-esque vocals become dreadful or unbearable (it’s often vaguely catchy) but is actually way too forgettable to make any kind of direct impact on any brain already glutted with the sort of radio-friendly shite we all hear on a regular basis.
A band playing this kind of of music needs personality, relatability, something new to the proverbial table — dressing up as animals on the front of your CD just isn’t good enough.
Eight legs are quite simply a group of men with a collective eight legs, eight arms, eight hands, eight…
Who are we talking about again?