Sometimes, as a band, it’s actually better to be monumentally shit. Bear with me on this one. If you really are truly shockingly atrocious, the chances are you can only improve. Meanwhile, you’ll at least have made an impression. People remember the really bad bands as much as they remember the mind-blowingly great bands.
My Favourite Runner Up aren’t gut-achingly bad. In fact, there’s nothing wrong with them at all. But their brand of melodic not-quite-rock, not-quite-indie, sort-of-pop is so utterly forgettable, the songs completely fail to register – to the extent that you’ve forgotten the chorus while before they’re even onto the next verse. A bland pumped-up assimilation of Jimmy Eat World, Lostprophets, new Found Glory et al, they’re the sonic definition of ‘dilution’.
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Consequently, the only way they might be anyone’s favourite runner up is if the competition only had two bands, and you’re the singer’s mum.
My Favourite Runner Up on MySpace
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