Ain’t Ain’t Ain’t, the latest offering from Brooklyn’s Tim Fite, will help you conjure up all of those long buried memories of high school, regardless of how much bong resin is clogging up those synapses or ecstasy related holes riddle your brain.
The album is a charming trip down memory lane, peppered with sentimental milestones of youth. The songs are all a bit tame, riding around in cars, boredom, ogling the developing breasts of female classmates. Nostalgia will make you chuckle, but it isn’t enough to carry the album.
Ain’t Ain’t Ain’t is like a Facebook acquaintance who gushes over photos of formals with comments like “best days of my lifeeee!”. When you realise that they’re serious, it’s all a bit sad.