“I’m full of passion and rage,” Freddy Cricien spits on “Rebel Kids”.

Hell, tell us something we don’t know.

Madball have never been a band for restraint. The essence of hardcore is in their DNA, quite literally in the blood of their frontman, given Cricien’s familial relationship with Agnostic Front icon Roger Miret. Yet Not Your Kingdom, the band’s tenth studio album, proves that heritage only takes you so far. Remaining this furious, relevant and downright threatening after all these years takes commitment.

“Tethered” begins with Cricien yelling: “Newsflash, I’m still here.” Again, tell us something we don’t know. Madball have always been among the most dangerous-sounding hardcore bands, and nothing here suggests they are mellowing. The riffs lurch forward with bad intentions, while the groove underneath them practically demands movement.

“Flammable” makes the point that Madball are essentially a thrash band whenever they choose to be. “Can’t break me,” goes the declaration, and that stoicism has always been at the centre of their work. Life delivers the blows; Madball absorb them and turn the bruises into songs.

The brief “Rebelude” provides an unsettling bridge into “Rebel Kids”, one of the album’s defining moments. Perhaps that is still exactly what Madball are. “Don’t follow rules,” Cricien commands before sneering: “You wear rebellion like it’s fashion.” Nobody else spits these things out quite like him. Every word sounds like an accusation.

“Don’t Misstep” proves that when the band quieten down, they become even more menacing. “Never forget I’m a soldier first,” Cricien warns, and the struggle, as ever, is real as fuck. There is no performance here and no carefully manufactured angst. Madball sound like they are documenting lives lived under pressure.

“What Say You” contains enough slogans to fill a protest banner: “They got the news locked up in this prison” and “No one is sacred in this game.” Surely Madball are the kings of the hardcore slogan. The album title comes from its central idea: those with the money may possess power, but this is still Not Your Kingdom.

Mike Justian anchors “Stab Wounds” with the sort of drumming that makes you imagine the chaos it will create in a packed room. Underneath the violence, though, there is pain. Madball have never been about aggression for its own sake. The fury comes from somewhere, and that somewhere is usually personal.

“Sunrise” acts as something approaching a palette cleanser, although even Madball’s idea of respite carries a sense of impending violence. Then “Life’s A Mural” arrives with perhaps the closest thing the album has to a conventional single.

“How can you speak about justice when it’s with an unjust brush that you paint?” asks Cricien.

One wonders which billionaire he might be talking about.

“Family First” underlines that Madball understand groove as well as anyone in hardcore. That bounce has always separated them from bands interested only in speed and brutality. They know precisely when to let a riff breathe, when to hold it back and when to release the whole thing into the pit.

“Clockwork” sounds like catharsis being used as a blunt instrument. It coils itself tightly before exploding, and when it goes, it really goes.

Then there is “IWI”, an astonishing, perfectly formed slice of rage lasting just 29 seconds. There is no intro, no wasted space and certainly no compromise. It arrives, punches a hole in the wall and disappears before anyone has time to work out what happened.

“The Ride” turns scars and bruises into something resembling pride. “I wouldn’t change my life,” Cricien insists, and that feels like the point of the entire record. Madball are not interested in rewriting their history, disguising the mistakes or pretending the struggle did not happen. All of it has been absorbed into these songs.

“Chase A Dream” provides one final invitation to the circle pit, but there is something deeper behind the title. Perhaps this is for the people who are too tired, too poor or too busy surviving to think about having a dream. The song even slows down in the middle, just because Madball can, before gathering itself for one final assault.

“Your spirit is evergreen,” sings Cricien.

So are Madball.

Fourteen songs, half an hour and barely a second wasted. Not Your Kingdom is full of passion, rage, resilience and the street-level wisdom Madball have carried throughout their existence. It might not be their kingdom, but if Madball are not hardcore’s kings, they remain its crown princes.

Rating: 8.5/10