What did you want, sonic inducer, sheep in wool coats dumpster diving for forever hidden treasure? What did you think, summer cesspool sleeper, English wasn't a language conceived for business? Allow me, please, to introduce New Erections, the third full-length from the Southern California decade-plus young endeavor, The Locust, as a post-futurist to primitive again strangled tongue-shearer just 'cause the business is lickin' pretty bad.
Circumstances prohibiting, if the Locust could've soundtracked the previous two World War's they probably...
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