And so lies the problem with this effort by Maths. On the surface it appears their front-man can’t actually sing, and not a single note is ‘sung’ throughout this 30 minutes of cacophonous racket. Melody is replaced by intolerable amounts of meaningless noise that all just blends into one. This would normally be bearable from what is, after all, a screamo outfit, but you can’t understand a single lyric the guy hurls at you, and so his role is reduced to just another rhythmic element. The fact his lyrics are indecipherable may not be entirely his fault – the production on this album does seem relatively basic.

The instrumental support cast are, however, extremely good. Furious yet metrical drumming is accompanied by unusual guitar chords, broken up to weave strangely mesmeric patterns before the distortion pedal is kicked into life and things get that bit more rowdy and fierce. The instrumental sections often border on math-rock (whether the band’s name is a nod to this genre is unknown), and all seem to flow seamlessly, one into the next.

It is this seamless nature that is the most pleasing thing about Descent – it really is an album as opposed to a mere collection of songs. The 12 tracks all link together uninterrupted to create one gargantuan 30-minute beast of a piece, and it is clearly something that has been constructed with care. I imagine if one were to see Maths live they would play the album in its entirety from start to finish, with haunting piano chords opening and closing the piece in a rather Mogwai-esque fashion.

It is the rhythmic sensibilities, rather than the actual screamo element, that make Descent so appealing. Being able to pack a punch and provide sparse haunting sections all in one fluid movement makes this Norfolk-based quartet a sure hit.

Comparisons with Joy Division and Sonic Youth are valid here, with the similar sound of morbidly dirty guitars and minor-key riffs underpinning furious vocal rallying cries of “nurse, nurse, come quick!” and “abandon ship!”. However, a greater sense of energy is injected into proceedings by the relentless brilliance of drummer Rob Challinor – I dread to think how many snare drums this guy must break over the course of a just single gig. It is not all power though – proficient displays of musicality are demonstrated as Challinor switches between cymbal work and drum fills, keeping the songs fresh as the guitars continue their grungey assault on your senses.

Vocally, you won’t come away from listening to this album with a catchy melody still swimming through your brain, with rhythmic shouting being the order of the day. However, the energy is infectious, especially on We Speak In Whispers – the hilarity of the lyric “we speak in whispers all the time” being enthusiastically screamed over and over would be a welcome addition to any noisy album.

I imagine seeing Nephu Huzzband at a live show would easily trump anything they could ever lay down on tape, as visceral punk with this amount of verve should be something witnessed first-hand. However, Elementary shows an adept understanding of interesting rhythms to make for a rocking listen.

If you visit the band’s blog, you notice that every new post seems to be titled with a song by the Smiths, and this influence is very noticeable in the Marr-esque guitar playing. You Are Sleeping, You Do Not Want includes a delightful sweeping riff that covers the whole fret-board, and every other song contains sprinklings of broken chords and reverb-laden riffage.

The whole album moves along at a nice pace, with energetic drumming and minimal instrumental sections meaning it is a fresh 38 minutes, the kind of length that could encourage a listener to just put it on again. This is not a style of music that is going to fire Wolf Am I into the mainstream, but will certainly be a welcome souvenir for their dedicated fanbase.