Madball – Not Your Kingdom
Madball – Not Your Kingdom
Nuclear Blast Records
Release date: 24/07/26
Review by: Jon Deaux
8/10
Rather than retire gracefully, considering all the things that makes Freddy Cricien angry on a daily basis, fainting onstage could actually be his most tranquil solution.
Madball have been together for thirty-eight years! Thirty-eight years is not a band, it’s a hostage situation that hasn’t been reported to the police as yet since everybody involved secretly likes it. In that time we’ve seen the emergence of new NY mayors, economic crashes, smartphones, and possibly a few members of Madball have gone through hip replacements. And there is Freddy Cricien who is still leading this band, still yelling as if Tuesday personally gave a slap to his mommy, still relying on the fact that his uncle is Roger Miret of Agnostic Front – nature itself has taken up the advertising role instead of Freddy. Nepotism may be disgusting in Hollywood, but in hardcore music, it is like a war trophy.
The album is called ‘Not Your Kingdom,’ and I must admit that Madball have chosen the best title for this record as Freddy controls nothing. He neither leads any chart nor culture. He may not control his diet anymore as this man has been yelling about the “grit” for long before some of his fans were born. But he is out here making pit calls for a living while the rest of us are unwilling to reply to a text. Recorded in Nashville. NASHVILLE. Hardcore’s response to shooting a bar fight at a wine tasting event. The “Nashville cats” – again, it’s Freddy’s word, and I won’t return this phrase to him – “have killed it.” Apt choice of words indeed, somebody dies on this record, and that might as well be the hearing of session musicians.
‘Tethered’ opens the record and makes sure you are tethered to something unpleasant, and I must say, that’s the purpose of hardcore. ‘Flammable’ – a word that sounds like naming your newborn “choked.” You understand everything the second the pen touches paper. And then comes ‘Rebelude,’ a word that does not exist until Madball created it, probably combining rebel and prelude somewhere in a Nashville car park at 3 am after drinking four Red Bulls.
The next song is ‘Rebel Kids.’ It becomes funny the way a eulogy at a wrong funeral can be funny. “Rebel kids don’t follow trends, seems that’s coming to an end.” Freddy is sincerely mourning teenage nonconformity, which died in its sleep and nobody invited him to the burial. Pretty rich coming from a man who is playing in a band that has worn the same uniform of tracksuits and shaved heads since the first Bush administration. That’s not rebellion, mate, that’s a very dedicated cosplay. The most rebellious thing a teenager can do these days is leaving a group chat. That’s the whole revolution nowadays. Everybody is so busy developing their personal brands that they have stopped rioting about anything, and here’s Freddy writing protest songs for the generation that protests by posting a black square and going back to sleep.
‘Don’t MisStep’ is the next one. You won’t misstep; he’s telling you that and consequences remain unknown. It’s the hardcore counterpart of your daddy’s saying “We’ll talk about it later” and not saying anything for the next four decades. What Say You becomes the emotional peak of this record, holding the title lyrics: “You hold the keys but it’s not your kingdom” – the closest hardcore got to Thom Yorke’s lyrics without somebody filing a restraining order against them. It is touching ALMOST. Then, two songs later comes ‘Stab Wounds,’ and it reminds you that no, it is still a band that would like to stab you personally, possibly for eye contact.
‘Sunrise!’ A song named Sunrise on a Madball album, and in one deluded second, I thought – Finally, some warmth, an acoustic song, Freddy finally found his peace in life. It did NOT work. The sun rises here to witness the violence, just like a reluctant courtroom artist who saw too many cases to leave the job but he has to continue because of health insurance.
‘Life’s a Mural’ is such a title that gets tattooed onto someone’s forearm before the release of the record, and I’m willing to put real money on that. There’s a teenager in Long Island right now making this appointment. Family First is Freddy going full Corleone and announcing the permanent membership of the bassist Paul Delaney – “He’s family at this point” – like if there’s ever been any doubt in any of Madball’s members having a problem with paternity tests when rap sheet and grudge would suffice to solve the issue.
Closing songs – ‘Clockwork,’ ‘IWI,’ ‘The Ride,’ and ‘Chase A Dream’ – and here’s the part which deserves respect, regardless of how much fun I’m having with them. Most bands in the tenth album are just coasting, collecting pensions, doing the “one for the fans” run through where the drummer plays just automatically. Madball is still coming at you as if you personally owe them money from 1997 and they have finally located your address. ‘Chase A Dream’ finishes this album on some hope, which is like a horror movie finishing with a sunrise, you know damn well something is crouching behind the trees patiently, unblinking and waiting for the sequel.
Now, I’m sure this will get me a few emails – hardcore doesn’t have to evolve, and each time a legacy band tries to “mature” or “experiment,” it sounds pretty much like a mortgage getting paid. Madball hasn’t evolved in nearly forty years, and it is the best decision they never made consciously. This is not a band that grows up. This is a band that has ossified itself beautifully – like a fossil knowing how to throw hands. There is something admirable in a bunch of men in their fifties being mad about “the wealthy elite pulling the strings” while recording in Music City on someone else’s budget – the irony here is so thick that you can tattoo it on someone’s other forearm, right next to the mural line.
Now, let me tell the truth about who buys this record. It is not teenagers discovering rebellion for the first time – it’s forty-five-year-olds with mortgages, two kids, and a herniated disc from moshing in 2003, living once again a version of themselves who could do a two-step without seeing a chiropractor afterwards. Not Your Kingdom is not an album for rebels. This is an album for men who used to be rebels and are now mad about parking permits, wrapped in a very loud and sincere teenage disguise. This is not an insult. This is the entire business model of hardcore in 2026, and Madball is just better at selling it than anyone else.
This is not an album which grows on you slowly, like some moss. This is an album which follows you into a car park, steals your wallet, your dignity, and possibly a tooth, and somehow you still give it a tip on the way out because the technique was impeccable, and you somewhat respect professionalism. Thirty-eight years, and Madball hasn’t become mellow, hasn’t become mature, hasn’t done a single unnecessary thing to this sound, and in the industry that is absolutely filled with bands making acoustic reinterpretations and orchestral “reimagination” in pursuit of Grammy nomination nobody asked for, that stubbornness is the most punk thing standing left today.
TRACKLISTING:
01. Tethered
02. Flammable
03. Rebelude
04. Rebel Kids
05. Don’t MisStep
06. What Say You
07. Stab Wounds
08. Sunrise
09. Life’s a Mural
10. Family First
11. Clockwork
12. IWI
13. The Ride
14. Chase a Dream
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