Mind you though, although at an explicit level Spearhead have no regard for your hearing health whatsoever, there is standout quality here. Compositions are not tiring and swiftly pass one after the other, due to catchy ideas that hit the spot and the tight percussion that follows both mid-tempo deluges and relentless blasting with ease. Adhering to old-school paradigms, proper solos (and I mean -proper- guitar soloing, not flaunting six-string wankery) and slower doom-esque parts are artfully placed within songs to ensure the smooth flow of the album's dynamics. Production is raw and rough around the edges, and at times the snare sounds like the drummer's banging a cooking pot, but overall it fits the bill quite well.

And so, after a long array of self-styled monikers which dub themselves as "war metal", Spearhead pound forth with conviction, rudely taking their place among the genre's higher ranks. To people of a specifically acquired taste, this death-inspired cocktail of tempo changes and clattering riffage that Spearhead manage to churn will definitely find a suitable acceptance.