For a long time the most interesting thing about San Diego futuro-grindcore terrorists the Locust was how they'd become such a press phenomenon and sold so many records, considering they play such a non-listener-friendly style of music. I didn't like them, sizing them up as a hardcore-scene equivalent of some awful, overhyped NYC fashion band, like A.R.E. Weapons, one that folks always talked about for superficial, mostly nonmusical reasons. Yes, they played really short songs, had zany song titles, and wore skimpy costumes. But lots of people have done short songs: S.O.D., Napalm Death, Naked City, Anton Webern. Plus, A.C. and 7000 Dying Rats have better song titles and costumes, and anyway, who cares about costumes?

I like their new album, Plague Soundscapes, though. In the past the Locust often merely sounded like a generic, scream-your-face-off spazz metal band with Devo and Gary Numan-like breakdowns. But here, keyboardist Joey Karam's Moog bleeps and blurts come off like an equal-footed part of the band, not an afterthought. Together with Bobby Bray's noise-spraying guitar, Gabe Serbian's constantly gear-shifting drums, and the overall density of the songs – 23 of them in 21 minutes, each of them with about eight separate parts – they've put together a sci-fi disaster worthy of the trashy painting on the album cover. The Locust play Aug. 7, Slim's, S.F. (415) 522-0333. Aug. 8, 924 Gilman, 924 Gilman, Berk. (510) 525-9926. (Will York)

Sidestepper
3am: In Beats We Trust (Palm Pictures)

Richard Blair's first album as Sidestepper, 2000's More Grip (Palm Pictures), was a surprisingly successful blend of drum 'n' bass electronics and music native to his adopted homeland of Colombia. This time round, Blair throws Jamaica into the mix, crafting a blend of dub, reggae, and cumbia in his search for a new pop music.

As one might expect from an engineer who has worked with Peter Gabriel for his Real World label, 3am: In Beats We Trust is not electronica merely spiced with Latin flavors. Instead, Sidestepper's sound is an equal marriage of influences. While this works toward putting to rest questions of cultural colonialism (as does the considerable input of Colombian pop artist Ivan Benevides, who cowrote most of the tracks), the result is occasionally a bit bland, with the easy relations of different elements making for unremarkable listening. The strongest songs are those that allow one influence to take center stage, or, at least, let a few take turns in the spotlight. "Aunque me duela la vida" is one such track, primarily propelled by the throbbing echoes of dub but sparked to life by bursts of Latin brass, and "Mas papaya," where reggae rhythms and toasting are punctuated by a lilting Latin pop chorus. 3am may be uneven, but the hits are well worth the misses. Sidestepper plays Aug. 10, Sigmund Stern Grove, S.F. (415) 252-6252. Aug. 12, Elbo Room, S.F. (415) 552-7788. (Peter Nicholson)

Ghost Orchids
The King Is Dead (Princehouse)

As the underground floods with enough dark-wave '80s electro-rock to give Martin Gore déjà vu – or at least delusions of relevancy – acts such as Ghost Orchids have to work harder to stand out. Which, for those who believe competition pushes capable individuals to greater heights, is exactly what the half-San Francisco-, half-NYC-based foursome need.

On their first LP, The King Is Dead, recorded at I Am Spoonbender's Seismic Seance studios, they take their cues from the usual, reputable suspects – Adult., Cabaret Voltaire, Depeche Mode, and a shitload of disco-damaged punks who discovered synthesizers two decades back – but ultimately sound like everyone yet no one at all. So while The King Is Dead has great moments, notably "Love Inversions" and the relentlessly propulsive robotics of "Nothing Can Hurt You (A Sharper Version)," too often the songs simply sound fine, all right, OK. As a result, the album grows monotonous and, as with the title track, is marred by Julian Myers's overly affected, Reznor-riffic vocals. Too bad, because if the aforementioned highlights show what they're capable of, one day Ghost Orchids just might be too good for that. Ghost Orchids play Fri/1, Edinburgh Castle Pub, S.F. (415) 885-4074. (Jimmy Draper)

Joel Harrison
Free Country (ACT)

While living in Berkeley during the '90s, Joel Harrison drew West African polyrhythms, Indian ragas, and other elements from the diverse world music community around him into his consistently intriguing compositions for jazz ensembles. The guitarist, a New York City resident for the past four years, now reaches into a bag of the country and folk songs he heard while growing up in Washington, D.C., and arranges them in fresh, often radically reharmonized ways on Free Country. Harrison's sitar-style bent notes on low strings introduce "This Land Is Your Land," as if extending a welcoming hand to new immigrants, before pianist Uri Crane and the rhythm section transform it into a gentle jazz waltz. Other instrumentals include a psychedelic hoedown treatment of "Folsom Prison Blues," but the bulk of the selections features singers. Among them are Raz Kennedy, Harrison himself, and, on two selections, Norah Jones, whose cool, soulful reading of "Tennessee Waltz" over Harrison's Bill Frisell-like warps and Tony Cedras's fibrous accordion swells is the most radio friendly of the tracks. Saxophonist David Binney and violinist Rob Thomas also make notable contributions to the disc, a masterpiece of Americana in which Appalachia meets the avant-garde. Joel Harrison plays Mon/4, Yoshi's, Oakl. (510) 238-9200. (Lee Hildebrand)

Hot Action Cop
Hot Action Cop (Lava)

Hot Action Cop's self-titled debut vacillates between Nilla Wafer funk and crunchy crossover power chords, cut through with a stagnant stream of lyrical vapidity so intense you can actually feel yourself getting stupider. To wit (or lack thereof): "She got the power of the hoochie / I got the fever for the flava of the coochie" from their radio rocker "Fever for the Flava." The title is cleverly cribbed from a Pringles ad campaign in the late '80s, the era from whence this particular brand of musical snack food originated.