Emerging from the tumultuous New York hardcore scene of the late ’90s, Locked in a Vacancy paved the way for an entire generation of metalcore acts alongside titans like Converge, Lamb of God, and Hatebreed. Their early discography was a gauntlet thrown down—starting with the incendiary demo So We Are Rendered Powerless, followed by a series of releases that culminated in the hauntingly prescient It’s Always Darkest… Hiatus came in 2007, as members diverged into other projects. Any glimmer of a 2012 reunion vanished with the tragic loss of drummer Rick Cimato.

Now, with their new EP …Before the Dawn, via Fuzz Therapy Records, they’re back—not for nostalgia, but as a jolting force. Disregard labels or categories; Locked in a Vacancy isn’t about easy definitions. Theirs is a sound that demands your attention, a reckoning that defies recapture. Brace yourself—this is not a reunion; it’s a reckoning.

Emerging from New York’s underground in the late ’90s, Locked in a Vacancy was more than just another metalcore band—they were a tempest. Their performances were sonic earthquakes, shared with an exhaustive list of seminal bands including Converge, A Life Once Lost, Lamb of God, and Every Time I Die. If you’ve ever thrown down to these names, ignoring Locked in a Vacancy is a glaring lapse in your musical vocabulary.

A pause came in 2007, as members diverged into other projects. Any glimmer of a 2012 reunion vanished with the tragic loss of drummer Rick Cimato. Their discography became an archival whisper, a potent but paused narrative. Now, after years, they’re back—not to rehash the past, but to stake a new claim. Their latest EP, …Before the Dawn, isn’t a soft return; it’s an incendiary declaration that forces you to pay attention. This isn’t nostalgia—it’s a reckoning.

Their return isn’t about recapturing yesterday but about breaking today’s silence, filling a void that’s been keenly felt but never filled. Forget retrospectives; you’ll find Locked in a Vacancy in the spaces that defy easy labels. 

For those who find solace in the brutal honesty of metalcore, and have longed for the return of a sound that shakes you to your foundation, your wait is over. If you’ve ever questioned, ever raged, ever yearned for something more—Locked in a Vacancy is more than a band; they’re a call to arms. Your time to hesitate is through. Join the ranks and become part of a movement that refuses to be ignored.

This is not a reunion, but a renewal—a gut punch that refuses to ask for your attention and instead demands it. Brace yourself. They’re back.

In the churn of the late ’90s and early 2000s metalcore scene, a silhouette emerged—Locked in a Vacancy. Not another band to be lumped into a category or tagged with a genre, but a tempest. Born amidst the cacophony of New York’s underground stages, they clawed their way through a circuit that could make or break even the most tenacious. Through splinters of sound and lacerating performances, they gave audiences something unnameable. Something that had to be experienced to be understood.

When it came to stage-sharing, Locked in a Vacancy was not the undercard; they were the seismic force reverberating through the lineup. The list of bands they’ve played alongside is an index of influence and power: Converge, A Life Once Lost, Ed Gein, The Red Chord, Shai Hulud, The Minor Times, Lamb of God, Unearth, Every Time I Die, Nora, Between The Buried And Me, Darkest Hour, Zao, Breather Resist, Disfear, Curl Up And Die, Kylesa, Municipal Waste, From Autumn To Ashes, The Haunted, Mastodon, Most Precious Blood, Poison The Well, Glassjaw, Hatebreed, Biohazard, Caliban, Deadtofall, Throwdown, Bane, Walls of Jericho, Cave In, and The End. If these names ring through your playlist, then not knowing Locked in a Vacancy is akin to a sin of omission—an oversight that one might call a crime against your own musical intellect.

Then, 2007 happened. An abrupt pause, a fragmentation. The band’s members dispersed into a myriad of other projects, some musical, some existential. Their discography became a sort of relic; snapshots of an era, preserved but incomplete. Even the whiff of a 2012 reunion dissipated into the ether, snuffed out by the tragic death of their drummer, Rick Cimato. They became an absence, a void in the musical landscape.

Until now. 

Years might have passed, but time is an illusion for forces of their nature. With a new EP, “…Before the Dawn,” they’re not rekindling old fires; they’re igniting new ones. A departure from Purity Records, this release on Fuzz Therapy Records is less about recapturing old glories than it is about imprinting anew. This is not the past haunting the present; this is a torrent breaking through the dams of musical complacency.

What is it that fuels Locked in a Vacancy’s return? It isn’t nostalgia or a want for reliving yesterday. It’s an itch, an unrest, an incendiary need to break silence and reclaim the spaces that, frankly, have been missing them. These are the uneasy spaces, in the abyssal corners of society, uttering guttural depths of sound that evade easy description.

So, brace yourself. This is not a leisurely stroll down memory lane or a docile revisitation of what once was. It’s a gut punch, a declaration, an intensity that won’t ask for your attention—it will demand it. This is not a reunion. This is a reckoning.

And yet, in all its ferocity, it remains an enigma. Because to define Locked in a Vacancy is to box an explosion, to cage a storm. It defies your labels, denies your categories. You can only truly know it when you’re in it—in the eye of their hurricane, surrounded by the sonic chaos they birth. 

You’ve been warned.