(Strike Anywhere will perform Saturday, March 13th at 2:30 p.m. at the Harvest Of Hope Festival in St. Augustine, FL)

For the second straight year, Richmond, VA’s, Strike Anywhere heeds the call of the Harvest Of Hope Foundation and returns on Saturday, March 13th to St. Johns County to once again strengthen the battle cry of migrant farm workers. With no less the vigor and more to scream along with due to their debut Bridge Nine release Iron Front, SA brings back the energy that has come to be expected from this force.

Led by the ever-charismatic Thomas Barnett, Strike Anywhere as always brings forth the same heightened social awareness, passionate political stance, and overall moral responsibility that have followed them since Barnett’s days in Inquisition. Having long since championed causes such as the rights and equality of women, animals, and the transgendered to name a few, Iron Front carries on that legacy with the same unparalleled intensity as their live show. Fast, chorus-laden and anthemic, Strike Anywhere stays true to the same punk-rock ethos that brought them this far. Also staying the course is the band’s posi-hardcore vernacular, as evident on Iron Front’s “South Central Beach Party”: “I want to speak for justice when she can't speak for us anymore, no borders in our hearts, she can't speak yet we are the damned and poor, speak for good ones buried before their time.”

Having personally bore witness to Strike Anywhere from a tiny upstairs Harrisonburg, VA, living room way back in 2000 all the way up to last year’s HOH Fest main stage, take it from me — these guys bring it every time. If you have not yet experienced Strike Anywhere then do yourself a favor. Come to the St. Johns County Fairgrounds this weekend, join in the fight for migrant farm workers, and get swept away in the positive energy of a band that encompasses the very nature of the whole weekend. Strike Anywhere will light a fire under your ass. By Pratt The Terrible

(Past Lives will perform Friday, March 12th at 5:05 p.m. at the Harvest Of Hope Festival in St. Augustine, FL)

I just arrived home in Florida for the Harvest Of Hope Festival. My family dogs have aged; most visible is the terrier’s vertigo and dead ear. When I say “dead ear,” I mean her ear has died completely like a wilting fern, deciding on its own to hang limp on her dome while the matching appendage on the left side of her face holds stiff. I walked up behind her expecting an excited rolling and writhing mouth-foaming greeting, where I would simply watch her wiggle on her back without petting her because of her natural otter-like smell of oils and old crawfish. But I instead received something even better. As I yelled her name, she just stared at the garage wall wondering why it was making noises that were keeping her awake.

It’s refreshing to hear a debut LP that doesn’t try to blow the listening ear by bending genres or masking itself under complex roots in order to fluff a weak resume. Past Lives don’t need to fluff — they are deeply entrenched and experienced in the smooth audio product of the Pacific Northwest. What recent groups from Washington and Oregon seem to share is a studio high in the canopy of a redwood forest, where the sounds of talent and wisdom creep into instrumentation and level vocals. The result is dependable in a collective nature, allowing the whole of the piece to flow as one without any surprises in the negative. Past Lives has no need to mask insufficiency because they are what one may call a trustworthy companion in their infancy. Like one of those babies that looks like an old man and makes you wonder if they can see into your soul.

Tapestry Of Webs drinks down smooth and steady. Lead singer Jordan Billie withholds punk screams, opting instead for a melodic approach that sometimes crusts toward spoken narrative. Strongest arguments surround a brilliant guitar performance by Devin Welch, making quick work of beach drifts and slower dark tidal bores. Tapestry Of Webs isn’t working out any kinks as it moves and flows; it works as a soundtrack for your thoughts, and not one that makes you philosophize a certain way. Just one that allows you to reason your own path without being crammed up by another viewpoint. If Maggie the terrier could listen to Past Lives, I think she would approve. By Will Tunstall

(Freelance Whales will perform Friday, March 12th at 4:10 p.m. at the Harvest Of Hope Festival in St. Augustine, FL)

The instrumentation on Freelance Whales’ debut album Weathervanes is a passionate swagger. Yet the vocals lack just a bit compared to the banjo, harmonium, glockenspiel, and waterphone that supports them. All of the poetic proclamations and slacking emotion standing around the recording room was quickly trumped by the core work of Jake Hyman, Kevin Read, Chuck Criss, Doris Cellar, and the composition of founder Judah Dadone. It’s the relentless vocal bleeding that weighs on Freelance Whales. As a group performing sans vocalist, I think this group would hold their own. The bitch of it all is trying to place them anywhere along the lines of the 5-bit calculus pop trend. That’s where I place them; without the voice I would just label them very pleasurable.

Freelance Whales’ performance at this year’s Harvest Of Hope Festival will be one to watch. I know the live act will be as promising as any riff on Weathervanes, because it took multiple months in gestation and practice time before they were with child — that being the birthed organism of their album and stage work as one. They may perform a very welcome set on any stage, and their attitude shows this fact so clearly in their earnest behavior of cordial glee. My only question is if Freelance Whales are just professional individuals who are trying to act as one fighting pack, hence the name, or a full-fledged unit troughing on the most delightful feed? Either way, Weathervanes is super gleeful shit to say the least. 

Doris Cellar works hard to sync up her spastically beautiful percussion with the rest of the band. She does another slow Tokyo drift thing for banjo and guitar-emphasized tracks. “This band could be your life” doesn’t apply to Freelance Whales. “This band could be a greatest hits soundtrack for a picnic” seems more applicable, and in the same breath is the perfect activity to undertake, since being pissed off and contemplative all the time isn’t a bountiful theology. By Will Tunstall    

Remember when hip-hop was raw? Like really raw — not concerned with chains or floss or women and champagne? Providence, RI, native B. Dolan remembers those days well — and has recreated them on his stunning 2010 album Fallen House, Sunken City. A true underground rapper in every sense of the phrase, B. Dolan moved to New York City from Rhode Island in 1999, dabbled in the spoken-word scene, and got a job as a doorman near the World Trade Center just before 9/11. That tragedy convinced Dolan to move back to Providence in 2002, and although he’s gone on to cultivate a solid career full of tour dates, festival appearances, and releases on Strange Famous Records, the emotional and physical scars inflicted back in 2001 are still on full display.

In fact, Fallen House, Sunken City begins with “Leaving New York,” a paranoid mish-mash of voices giving way to a bombastic, snare-heavy beat from producer Alias. “Fifty Ways To Bleed Your Customer” and its scattershot beat reflects B. Dolan’s longtime work with consumer advocacy group KnowMore.org, while “Economy Of Words” speaks eloquently to our country’s current financial crisis. That track also finds Alias getting crazy, utilizing dubstep rhythms and other electro tricks to lend power to Dolan’s words. “Earthmovers” also reflects the producer’s background in down-tempo ambience, while letting B. Dolan examine the paradox of “my position as a white artist presenting black music to a white audience,” as Fallen House, Sunken City’s press release states.

The album continues to expand into sharpened experimentalism, with “The Reptilian Agenda” firing shots at politicians and exploring the conspiracy theory that states lizard people will eventually take over the world (seriously). “The Hunter” explores vampire myths specific to Rhode Island, “Marvin” pays tribute to legendary soul singer Marvin Gaye, and “Border Crossing” finds the What Cheer? Brigade marching band performing behind an eerie B. Dolan rhyme about facing death with pride. The highlight of the album comes on “The Fall Of T.R.O.Y.”, a blitzkrieg of a song that features shape-shifting beats, guest spots from P.O.S. and Cadence Weapon, and an outspoken challenge to hip-hop to stop worshipping its own past and look into the future. Fallen House, Sunken City is raw, confrontational, honest, and futuristic — exactly what hip-hop should be. By Nick McGregor