When one thinks of oft-imitated bands, the Locust usually isn’t the first one to come to mind. Yet that’s exactly what seems to be dealing a large dose of influence in the direction of London, England’s Trencher. True, Trencher dons infinitely less full-body, skintight nylon suits and operates as a trio sans guitar unlike the full-band, four-piece Locust…but let’s be real: Their ultra-short, noisy blasts of keyboard grind with cringingly creepy lyrical themes (“Horse Race Amputee,” “Erotica of Flies,” “Wounds Cordon Bleu”) roll extremely close in the game of musical marbles to their U.S. tourmates….yeah, the Locust.

While this entire review could probably be spent comparing and contrasting the two bands, let’s pretend for a moment that there’s no basis for association and describe Trencher as is. First observation: no guitar. Distorted bass, shrieks and screams abound, and a Casio keyboard help fill in the sound, that succeeds in at least not sounding lacking at all, and fairly convincing in its grindier moments. Secondly: the songs are short. Like, power-violence short. Blink-and-you-miss-it, 40-seconds-tops short. However, it’s still plenty of time for bone-crushing brutality intertwined with Nintendo-buzz keys and brief flirtations with negative audio space. Trencher’s macabre snark is as incomprehensible on paper as it is in the songs, as the 35-second “Autopsy” reveals: “In through the veils of skin --Lusting! / Break through, hymen! / You’re cracking my cranium / Like scaling the dizzy spine!” Though claiming the prize of longest song on the CD at 1:10, “Hispanic Telepathy Attack” is only one line long: “When you’re running from the law, be more careful and play dead!”

Not including the final track with hidden bonus noise that comes eight minutes after the last song, Trencher crunch out a baker’s dozen worth of spastic Casio-core cuts in less than 10 minutes that are interesting, if not altogether memorable.