It was – probably – an unintended by-product of “For The Cause”, but it was nonetheless a welcome one, that the first time I listened to what is the ninth record of Madball’s career, it very neatly covered my commute from home to work.
The best thing about listening to Madball, you see, is that even in your early 40’s – and I can remember Madball’s debut record coming out – after 34 minutes 27 seconds precisely of this sonic beatdown, you feel like you can take on all comers. Hell, you feel like taking a broken bottle to your boss. Ok that’s a bit extreme, but then you realise you’d best clear your inbox instead.
That, though, is why Madball exist. Because they don’t clear their inbox, they smash it to pieces. Probably.
What I am trying to say is that the 13 songs that make up this slice of genuine brilliance are that curious mix of self-empowerment and violent anger that the very best NYC hardcore possesses – and make no mistake that this band, one that started as a virtual Agnostic Front side project back in 1994, is the very best at what they do.
Pick any song here (and the skill of Madball is that they always made sure they made songs) and you’ll find three things. 1) lyrics that could be the slogan on any tshirt in the world 2) A mountain of guitar and 3) crystal clear production from Rancid’s Tim Armstrong.
The first one. “Smile Now, Pay Later” sets the tone. Its monstrously heavy – assume that’s a given – but also suggests: “Pray to your God? They won’t save you. Believe in yourself, cos they won’t save you. Nothing can save us, but ourselves and our minds…..”
And therein you have the point. “Rev Up” is shorter, a blitzkrieg attack, while “Freight Train” (“don’t be on the tracks when you see the train coming….”) renders your resistance as pointless. “Tempest” actually comes on like a thrash song, there is a touch of Metallica in its breakdown, but best of all, perhaps is “Old Fashioned” a blistering attack – in all senses of what that means – on modern society. “Your faces are glued to that screen, where your hatred reigns supreme.”
The positively moshpit ready beast, “Evil Ways” finds Ice T at his most uncompromising. “these motherfuckers aren’t mentally ill, they’re just evil. You’re killing fucking kids, you’re just evil” he spits. “Lone Wolf” has a menace, “Damaged Goods” is happy to take the blame, and if “For You” does its work in a more deliberate fashion, it is only so they can sound like the last gang in town.
The title track – over four minutes if you don’t mind, which for this album is positively prog rock – spends the last minute or so skanking like a female fronted Specials, but it works. Everything here works, as does the closing boot to the balls of “Confessions” which ends the album like the maelstrom it needed it to be and concludes “For The Cause” perfectly.
Madball aren’t doing anything ground breaking here and – thank Christ – there’s no new direction. But knowing what you are gonna get is the fun of this. It sounds exactly like you want it to. As they put it themselves (well to be accurate The Business’ Steve Whale says it) on the start of “The Fog”: “Heavy duty New York hardcore sounds, coming out of the bow in LA cool. Who the fuck else could it be, but Madball?”
Quite. Now, see ya at work tomorrow, yeah?
Rating 9/10
