The Locust - Plague Soundscapes
(Epitaph)
The Locust formed in 1995 in a sudden burst of convulsive grind/hardcore, stylish haircuts, and almost immediate adoration. Eight years later, they've pared down their membership by one, released a few full-lengths and various sundry splits and EPs, and have messed little with the formula that brought them the solid fanbase and critical approval that they presently enjoy. Now, signed to a subsidiary of Epitaph and teamed up with producer Alex Newport (At the Drive-In, The Melvins, Sepultura), The Locust have unleashed Plague Soundscapes. Their goals are lofty, as bassist Justin Pearson talks of changing the way people listen to music, or destroying it altogether, while guitarist Bobby Bray waxes upon The Locust's music as a metaphor for modern life, and one gets the sense that Pearson, Bray, Gabe Serbian, and Joey Karam may have hit upon something new, and that Plague Soundscapes might offer the distinct step forward that the band's never really seemed to take since their inception.
Following the usual pattern of Locust time-keeping, the album's twenty-three songs fly by in under a half-hour, flurries of blast beats, screams, riffage, and aggressive keyboard attacks. Newport's clear, well-balanced production manages to find a separation of sound that benefits The Locust's music, and he's often quite good at capitalizing upon Karam's science-fiction keyboards, usually the most interesting part of any given track. There's even more variety in the group's songwriting, as they (who decry popular music for its formulaic tendencies) stretch themselves a bit further than their usual, somewhat predictable fare. The disappointing thing, however, is that for all of the advances the band makes, there's little payoff in the end. The bulk of the tracks on the disc, though it may be the best work of theirs I've ever heard, do little to stand out in the rapid-fire assault that is Plague Soundscapes, and it seems sometimes that The Locust continue to bank on high-speed playing and obtuse angle shifts in song trajectory as the main staples of their songwriting. This is all well and good, but leaves the twenty-four minute album seeming far too long than a release of such brevity should, and undermines what progress the group might actually have made toward realizing some of their goals. In avoiding the widely accepted and overused formula of rock music, The Locust have simply managed to cultivate and propagate a new one of their own. If the band really strives for individuality, and if the "normal, safe" qualities of so much of America's music really makes Justin Pearson want to vomit, The Locust still have some honing to do before the destruction caused by their plague truly changes the musical world upon which it's been unleashed.
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