Kat Hasty grew up here in Midland, Texas.
Kody West came up in Denton.
Different corners of the same damn state, and somehow both roads lead back to a Locust Street.
I remember growing up in Midland—every couple of years, me and my cousins would find those brittle little shells clinging to the dirt and fence posts. The locusts had crawled up out of their holes, split themselves open, grew wings, and disappeared. We didn’t know it then, but we were watchin’ change happen in real time.
My cousin’s old home place ain’t even there anymore. Bulldozed. Scraped clean. Somebody put up a doctor’s office where we used to run around barefoot, swattin’ bugs and thinkin’ the world would always look the same.
This new song, “Locust Street,” rings of that kind of change.
Last chances.
Things you don’t realize are memories until they’re already gone.
The places that raised you, the versions of yourself that don’t come back, and the quiet understanding that time doesn’t ask permission—it just sheds its skin and flies on.
Some songs don’t just play.
They remind you where you came from—and what didn’t make the trip with you.
—Pancho’s Picks
