FI REVIEWS: Legs On Wheels - Gobble (album, 2026)
Manchester band's album Gobble is a sonic buffet that has me going back for thirds
The first thing I noticed when putting on Manchester art rock quintet Legs On Wheels’s full-length Gobble: it sounds good. It sounds really good. The recording, mixing, mastering, spatial layout, layering, and everything is top notch. Oh, this isn’t building towards me saying the music itself sucks; I just think the engineering is a very noticeable standout.
So what is the music? If you like prog, Legs On Wheels fits right in the tradition, crafting Gobble from the DNA of Wakeman-era Yes, Gabriel-era Genesis, The Mountain-era Haken, and loads of Zappa-era Zappa. Dramatic lead vocals; layered harmonies; plucky guitars over yet more electric and acoustic guitars; tight drumming; ripping bass; the occasional organ, piano, and synth. In no way do all these layers form an overwhelming sonic sludge. Instead, the band’s musicality paints a lush picture, and the engineers captured every stroke.
There’s a frantic energy from the opening track Oysters On The Half Shell through the end without much pause, though the band takes a few slow trips through melty, contemplative territory. From the alien bar music in A.P.E.S. to the infernal rock of Dinnertime for Rat, I was saying, yep! That’s prog™.
Lyrically, like all great prog, there are moments you scratch your head and ask, “What are you even talking about?” And, like any prog enthusiast, I wouldn’t really care as long as the words sound good. But the lyrics are not entirely dadaistic. With vivid imagery, they explore themes ranging from the exploitation of nature by the wealthy to the folly of humankind to the very purpose of life. The grandeur here suits the genre but more importantly carves out depth that makes Gobble worth revisiting with the lyric sheet in hand.
Indeed, a second listen, at least, is required to fully appreciate Gobble. Taking this frantic, ADHD-coded approach to music comes with the risk of throwing out so many musical ideas that the listener simply does not have enough to grab onto before the handle is yanked away for the next idea. I found myself lost a few times here, and found even my uncommonly high tolerance for progginess and musical dorkiness tested. But then the band hits with their quirky but irresistibly catchy chorus like in Peekaboo or the triumphant hell-yeah headbanging payoff at the end of Waiting For His Drowning, and I was back on board for the ride. Plenty of moments induced that gnarly frown-smile you get when music is absolutely so nasty it rocks. The ripping keys solo in Centipede in particular had my jowls[sic] on the floor.
No prog album would be complete without at least one ten-plus-minute track. The finale Masteroid satisfies the role. Here, the lyrics wrap up by the halfway mark, launching the instrumental into a sick journey through some afterlife suggested by those final words. The tune builds into an overdrive, evoking some hyperactive run into a speeding neon grid where you’re hopping waist-high fences and ducking electric bats while heading toward the light. Suddenly, the ticker gives out, and the music slowly devolves through a trippy and chill if somewhat depressed post-lude as the screaming feedback of a tape loop overtakes it all. Finally, in an even slower denouement, you’re back where you started, in space, almost feeling, as the lyrics say, “destined to drift forever”.
Here’s where I wish the album kept reaching and pushing, maybe recapitulating an earlier theme for an ultimate payoff. The 10-minute track, like elsewhere on the record, comes to a bit of an anticlimax. So, perhaps, the album didn’t quite reach that holy catharsis for me. It is dense with musical ideas, but maybe those musical ideas aren’t always fully explored or revisited. Nevertheless, it’s a thoroughly enjoyable ride with lots of highs and plenty to dig into again. And its existence is a testament: prog is alive and well.
Favorite track: Peekaboo
Listen to Gobble on Bandcamp: