Blackstrap is the sort of band that could only come out of a certain time and place. A couple of old rockers, having sold out to semi-lucrative day jobs, assume the past is behind them and start settling down in the semi-prosperity of Durham, North Carolina. The century turns, the economy pops, terrorism happens, the Patriot Act is passed and suddenly those old punks find their phones tapped, their wages cut, and their anger back. A singer a fraction of their age, with no previous musical experience, joins them. Within a few weeks everyone is on stage, annoying fence-sitters and scaring small children. Since several members having moved into the child rearing phase of their lives, they're especially good at the latter. Yes, Blackstrap reinvents that old-time feel-disillusioned sound of countless unsuccessful punk, cow punk, post punk, soft rock and nu-wave bands from Republican administrations past, and reminds us that if fighting the Man is hopeless, it's still a lot of fun, and more satisfying then deluding yourself that you're changing the system from the inside.