No recording sin offends worse than wasting a listener's time, and Logistic Slaughter certainly avoid that pitfall. Their entire war-chug-pocalypse wraps in just about ten minutes, making multiple tours both fun and efficient. Surprises lurk in none of those minutes, though a couple bass solo breaks and grueling slow-downs make for sweet ear candy. The gurgling that passes for vocals recalls Travis Ryan of Cattle Decapitation with a tracheotomy. Those vox could be better enunciated; "Innocence Proves Nothing" leaves me thinking that "Ovaltine! Ovaltine! Ovaltine!" seems a strange chant for a quartet of Californian grind warriors, but who am I to criticize a person's choice of liquid diet supplement? Higher pitched screeches also make an appearance, most notably on the 30-second seminar on unambiguity, "Fuck Your Scene Shit". From the artwork's hairy logo to its harsh reddish monochrome to the dejected gas mask dude at its center, everything about Logistic Slaughter's presentation says they'll see you in hell, and judging from their intensity on record, they'd rather take you there than meet up with you later.