As the story goes, November 25 was playing out like another shitty-as-usual Sunday evening in St. Louis. The Locust were touring in support of their third full-length release (if you can call a 23-minute release a full-length), New Erections, when their van was broken into and things were stolen. Note my use of the un-accusingly passive voice, employed to reserve judgment on the sort of low-life, hell-bound trash who break into tour vans and steal meager amounts of worldly belongings that include but are not limited to: three computers and, as reported by the Three One G: Locust Relief Fund, "phone chargers, money, and anything else you can think of."
"Three One G is all about family, and we consider The Locust nothing less. We are doing what we can to help these guys out, but we are reaching out to you the fans to help bring some resolve to this situation."
So, I wonder what exactly was stolen from The Locust? Four nylon body suits with mesh eye pieces? Perhaps an embarrassingly extensive collection of Detroit-based disco albums circa 1972, thus their failure to be explicitly reported as missing? Maybe the October issue of Musikkpraksis magazine and a Norwegian-to-English dictionary (I have a feeling Justin Pearson is just that sort of hip)?
Monetary donations and literary condolences are being accepted at email@example.com, so, fans, hop to it. And haters, sit tight.