Wolves, brass knucks, and tattooed necks, oh my! Tough guy, paint-by-numbers hardcore filled to the gills with references to revenge, “getting yours,” and how Out To Win is apparently “coming to get” you, the listener. Also: revenge, dead bodies, being sick of bullshit, revenge, war, and yet even more calls for revenge. In the liner notes, the various band members thank, among others, the New York Giants, the Indianapolis Colts, fishing and gambling, and they also warn someone named Jesse (who is apparently a “stank bitch”) to heretofore watch his or her back, and that he or she will eventually “get” his or hers. These guys are the near-perfect embodiment of the fact that this entire genre of music seems laden-to-overflowing with what are essentially jocks with tat sleeves. You read enough lyrics like these throughout the years and terms like “brotherhood” just starts to become synonymous with “dipshit gang mentality.” You want my opinion? Out To Win should just hang up their guitars and hit a couple yoga classes—loosen up and relax, guys, not everyone is out to “get” you. And even if they are, chances are good it’s because of your own swinging-dick, us-versus-them, punch-first-think-later macho posturing asses.