Snipers play post-rock songs that average out to about four minutes per. Considering their peers' usually lengthy trips, that's not much time to make an impression. But Snipers use the time wisely, with lively, intricate cuts that depend more on interesting picking and trebly tones than stretching out and meandering until the payoff.

Largely akin to the Mercury Program, Snipers often flesh out their songs with inherently crisp layers. "Are You Anywhere?" comes in smooth after the opening, intro-like "Focus 10" with nimble, interlocking guitars, only downtuning somewhat for what sounds like it'd be the "chorus"; more smeared ringing in the last minute offers a pretty reprieve. There's a moment of chunky riffs in "Death Caps" that sound straight generic, though, from progression to tone–like when you're first learning to play guitar and riff the intro to "Crazy Train" on your shitty starter amp. Thankfully, the rest of the song's got a more atmospheric, dizzying circling about it, and even a well-integrated acoustic part and more drilled, heavy bridge. There's something a little bit off and sloppy about the way "There Is an Adversary" comes in, but it's still cool in a carefully smoky, City of Ships-style manner, and its minor buildups and breakdowns are pretty compelling.

Over in the second half, a creepy sound clip from some old movie in "Tandemonium" helps create an eerie vibe before the band kicks in fully to lighten the mood a bit, and some more sparkly tablesetting works wonderfully. "Prelude" is a luminous interlude. Basic, distorted riffs in closer "We're a Wreck" feel a bit anticlimactic, with the more ambient twinkling far prettier and gripping, and some nails-on-chalkboard screeching in the background providing an ear-catching element.

While there are a few iffy moments on Let the Wolves Eat Themselves, Snipers create a lot of interesting tones and sounds throughout this album. They manage to cram enough of those ideas into their reasonably short songs to make this a definitively worthwhile album.

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Let the Wolves Eat Themselves