Some 38 years in, New York hardcore legends Madball finally reach the 10th album landmark. And promptly pulverise it.
The biggest criticism that could be levelled at Madball’s new album also doubles up nicely as high praise: it sounds exactly like you would expect it to. After 38 years of plying their trade, there is much comfort to take in this. Just like no one wants to hear AC/DC make a prog record, no one needs Madball to join the procession of bands acting like hardcore is only a starting point and not an end in and of itself. Clearly, that isn’t happening anytime soon.
If Not Your Kingdom was a fine dining experience, it would be something akin to a New York hardcore starter, served alongside a double helping of New York hardcore for the main, New York hardcore on the side, and capped off with a belt-busting New York hardcore dessert. Long-serving bassist Jorge “Hoya Roc” Guerra may no longer be in the ranks, but the same relentless spirit of old persists.
The shortest assault here is IWI which clocks in at just 29 seconds but lasts much longer in the memory. It starts off with a microdose of countrified guitar (a wink-wink nod to the record being produced in Nashville) before it accelerates into a breathless attack. Flammable is 59 seconds but feels like it contains an hour’s worth of thrashing within the confines of the minute mark. Yes, there are a couple of short deviations – surprisingly melodic backing vocals on The Ride, a hooky lead guitar on Chase A Dream – but for the most part you are simply catapulted face first into the moshpit. Over and over and over.
While the cascading riffs often take centre stage, it would be remiss not to give vocalist Freddy Cricien his flowers. Unpretentious sort that he is, he would never profess to be the world’s most poetic lyricist, but he is one of its most believable narrators. With a dry-throated delivery that sounds like he swallowed every last rock in the local quarry before showing up to the studio, he’s practically choking on the meaning of every line here. Indeed, it would be a shame if these autobiographical dispatches were lost amid the decibels. ‘I'm bound to all the things that I’ve done and seen’ he screams on Tethered, unafraid to address a past that has slowly poisoned his present. ‘Are we the sum of all we’ve done?’ he confides elsewhere on the bleak as fuck Stab Wounds. Yes, there is the Freddy Cricien who will fuck you up. But here there is also the Freddy Cricien who will fuck himself up during his own dark nights of the soul.
For all its formidable rampaging power, Not Your Kingdom doesn’t disrupt the established order of Madball’s discography. Set It Off will probably always stand untouched as the definitive Madball album and Pride (Times Are Changing) from 1996’s Demonstrating My Style as their essential anthem. But for Madball to still be hitting the numerous highs they are here – and with this level of sustained intensity – 38 years in is a rarefied victory. After lacerating posers who wear ‘rebellion like its fashion‘ on Rebel Kids, Freddy gives his own self-assessment. ‘I guess I’m old school,‘ he shrugs, proud to be stuck in his ways. Long may that continue.
Verdict: 4/5
For fans of: Drain, Knocked Loose, Pain Of Truth
Not Your Kingdom is out now via Nuclear Blast.
