My parents always told me that my tastes would change, and as a know-it-all child I was reluctant to believe them.
I would barely touch any fruit or veg, I wouldn’t eat the skin of jacket potatoes, I wanted the crusts cut off my bread and I ate an awful lot of peanut butter and chocolate spread sandwiches.
Fists have proved my parents right, as the debut album Phantasm plays out, I can hear a band with the lo-fi garage aesthetics that The White Stripes championed, that I would have thrown myself round to in fits of abandonment in dive bars and trawled myself across a muddy field to show my support for at tiny stages at festivals. But my tastes have changed.
It’s enjoyable in places, and there isn’t an awful lot wrong with it, but Fists are my peanut butter and chocolate spread sandwich, I simply just don’t really want it anymore.
Although, with all that said, I still can’t bring myself to eat sweetcorn or beetroot.
Support Band: Gringo Records