Even if you haven't heard one note played by the Locust, chances are you've heard a lot about them. As San Diego's leading purveyors of spasmodic Roland-and-cocaine-fueled metal-core (or something like that), much ink has been spilled (and bandwidth eaten up by chat-rooms) for their praise or dismissal. They may be the height of pretension, or they might be saviors of punk (or both), but at this point, only one thing is certain to me, and that's that everyone has a strong opinion one way or another about the Locust, which is in itself a victory on their part.

What's interesting about all the discussion that's taken place is how little of it pertains to the actual music the band plays. Most of revolves around the band's fashion sense, their snotty pretentiousness, the violence often inspired at their live performances, or the high prices commanded by official Locust belt buckles on eBay-- anything but the music. And there's a very good reason for this: it's difficult to say anything much about their music.

Not that the Locust is all style and no substance-- it's just that their 45-second-long blasts of raw plasma need no explaining. They're self-contained, self-fulfilling, and self-justifying. Some would add masturbatory to the list, but it's still interesting that, as I write this, somebody somewhere is writing a hefty manifesto detailing how all of human cultural history leads up to and finds its culmination in the Locust, when nothing is going to settle the matter better than just dropping the needle on one of their records.

But if this is the case, then why this polarity? It's surely not just the music, because strictly speaking, the Locust aren't doing anything incredibly novel. I mean, as I listen to this EP, Flight of the Wounded Locust, I can see a dozen records on my shelf that sound strikingly similar. Even their shtick, if you want to call it that, isn't all that unique. So what is it that causes the pro- and con- Locust camps to argue their cases so vehemently?

I'm guessing it has something to do with the stakes involved. Punk is at a critical juncture (possibly more so than ever before) because there's no clear standard bearer. So along comes the Locust, a bunch of kids who used to be in some very influential hardcore bands like Swing Kids and Struggle. They're cocky and cool and cause a stir. People start talking, and they sell a ton of records (by indie standards, anyway). Soon, major labels are interested and the band is half a step away from making videos, despite playing completely inaccessible, obnoxious noise that 99% of the population wouldn't even categorize as music. So with something as "important" as the future of punk on the line, everybody interested feels like they've got to get their word in and try to steer critical assessment.

As for the music on this 11-track, 10-minute EP, what's there to say? Frontman Justin Pearson screams about rotting animals (not that you'd know it unless you read the lyric sheet). Swirling keyboards play themes for evil circus clowns. The bassist and guitarist try to kill each other with slicing riffs while the drummer plays like Vishnu on meth. Ultimately, it explains itself better than anything I could say. But if you want my advice, buy it, put it on. It won't take you long to form an opinion. And if you don't like it, you'll have no problem selling it back at full-prince on eBay. Especially if put it in a pastry bag and pass it off as a limited edition promotional item.

-Jason Nickey, December 18th, 2001