I’m willing to bet good money that all metal addicts have that one kind of special sound lodged in their brains that, once heard, triggers a Pavlovian response — the jump in the pulse rate, the immediate wolfish grin, the reflexive drooling that comes at the sound of the dinner bell. Different sounds might do it for different people, maybe a Priest-ian riff here or a Sabbath-ian one there; maybe the resonance of a Bolt Thrower-like tank attack or a Testament-ary ripper does the trick.
In my case, the sure-fire trigger comes from the sound of Swedish death of the old school. And so in my case, Angerot bring forth the slobbering in a great, borderline-embarrassing flood. Their new album The Splendid Iniquity does that from start to finish.