I must say that while it is a little embarrassing to admit that I once tried to like bands like Poison and Firehouse simply because I assumed that’s what I was supposed to like being a “metal-head” at the tender age of eleven, I am not ashamed to admit that grunge (however gimmicky and played out it soon became) saved me from continuing to throw my money away on bands who are all probably now working at Jiffy Lube and staring at their old album covers wondering what went wrong. Rightfully due lambasting aside, The Fitt remind me of some of those long forgotten and less appreciated grunge bands from yesteryear who also qualified as hard rock and, in some instances, even metal. I can think of two bands The Fitt are probably fans of. One of them is pretty obvious to me. Helmet. But does anyone else remember Stompbox? No? Take my word for it, they weren’t all that bad and I’m hearing some shades of them in The Fitt. No actual “singing,” no guitar solos, not trying to reinvent anything nor any unrealistic aspirations for becoming a renaissance band of any sort. Just well written and arranged songs culminating with the final track “Helpless,” which is causing me to reevaluate the significance and influence of Black Flag’s My War just as much as Neil Young (whose cover this is of) in classic and modern grunge. By the way, I did mean Firehouse and not Firehose. Mike Watt wouldn’t be caught dead within a foot of some shitty hair metal band’s hairspray cloud. This record is The Fitt’s swan song to the world: sad but fitting.
–Juan Espinosa (Deadfinger, [email protected])