The Locust

Three bands best described simply as noisy bastards in one miserable, dank hole charging £3.20 a pint. The makings of the best gig of the year, right?

Hmm, wrong I’m afraid. Yes, you're assured of seeing something rather different tonight, but the noise borders on the unbearable on at least one occasion. Trencher kick off proceedings. The London trio described themselves as ‘Casio-grind’ and it’s an apt tag. They set about beating the crap out of what looks like the oldest keyboard in existence, and the rest of their instruments, like three 10-year-olds with ADD let loose in the school music room. It’s messy for sure, but there are moments of tunefulness that belie the band’s attempts to drive us all back to the bar.

What Trencher attempt, Othrelm accomplish. This U.S. duo are signed to Three One G, and, unsurprisingly, make no attempt to woo us with harmonies or melodies. Instead they play what seems like one song for what seems like hours. Imagine Lightning Bolt, strip away any stage presence, and up the technical proficiency (for all their white noise they’re remarkably skilled musicians), and Othrelm is what you’re left with. There are times when their repetitive squeals echo some macabre seaside arcade, full of scummy kids in tracksuit bottoms stealing your change, but for the most part they just sound like a ZX Spectrum loading sequence with the bass turned up without Manic Miner to play afterwards. The bar calls; many answer.

But EVERYONE returns for the main event, and not just because they’re all out of money after a couple of pints. This is The Locust, and they’ve come to kill, using nothing but scary glares (well, one presumes they’re glaring scarily from beneath their masks) and vicious 30 second blasts of spasmatic hardcore. Everyone’s a sheep to their wolves, begging to be slaughtered where they stand. Calls for songs from the band’s expansive back catalogue are mostly ignored, but a response is occasionally provoked, even if it is a prompt “fuck off”. They’re like nothing else you’ve ever seen – technically astute but completely off their trolleys. Then again, what would you expect from a band who call their songs things like ‘Late For a Double Date with a Pile of Atoms in the Water Closet’ and ‘The Half-Eaten Sausage Would Like to See You in His Office’? Hell, they even made a video for the latter number, if you can call four people trashing in a tunnel for a minute a video. They finish abruptly after a mere half hour (if that) of aural carnage. Cries for an encore are few and far between, simply because all those near the front have lost not only their hearing, but also their minds, and everyone shuffles out into a night of transport chaos. The only nag? The band started early, meaning that those that paid £9 on the door expecting a 10pm start actually only saw about ten minutes of the band’s set. Then again, are you going to argue with four freaks in insect get-up about stage times? I thought not.