Mordred
In This Life

The advancing nuclear threat, the devastating radiation penetrating flesh, the human self-destruction crying out its despair: this is the world seen by Mordred. Proud, standing tall, on the back cover: they are the authors of the sonic strategy collected in this vinyl, on the shelves in 1991.

Thrash metal dissolves and reassembles like an alpine landscape puzzle, mixes with rap and funk without overpowering them, without relegating them to wallpaper, but strengthens them, directing them into a youthful imagination overflowing with meanings: Mordred does not talk about altars or demons, but about everyday life. There is no need for supersonic speed or a marked sonic storm, but only compositional talent and courage in experimentation. It seems that carefreeness hovers in all this rhythmic stop-and-go revelry, tempo changes and accelerations, pulsating bass, brilliant solos. And yet there is sadness; there are realist lyrics filled with pessimism that describe real situations without falling into rhetoric. After the debut “Fool’s Game,” these Frisco heroes clearly break away from the paths already trodden by other Bay Area bands (Defiance, Exodus, Testament, Vio-Lence), raising the stakes, amplifying some musical elements that peeked in the debut album, leaving all the necessary space for DJ Aaron "Pause" Vaughn, who fits into each piece like an aromatic sauce in sandwiches, without annihilating the sonic mural but guiding bands like the German Gunjah.

"In This Life" is a northern lights of sounds that these American thrashers forge only for this album, fixing rap singing with funk rhythms and solid thrash riffs, a kind of amusement park like “... or we’ll get angry” with rhythmic trajectories that go on to cover ten killer tracks in phosphorescent yellow, if it’s true that even while mixing different styles, this ensemble manages to keep the compositional standards high throughout the record. "In This Life" is the compositional peak of a band certainly not as famous as it deserved, matured on tiptoe, with discretion thanks also to the return of the prodigal son James Sanguinetti and the full insertion of "Pause" Vaughn, the DJ and chef of the scratches who gets into the game like spicy chili.

The most evident danger when mixing diverse musical proposals is that these remain isolated in some songs, just think of Bad Brains (reggae songs like “I Luv A Jah” and punk like “Pay To Cum” each at home), or that the experiment produces gaudy results. Mordred manages to assemble various styles within the same song without the sound’s fluidity being affected; rather, we feel it flow with unchanged vigor. The dual course of thrash and funk subjugates the album, serving each other, as in the title track that opens the record. The bouncing sound of Art Liboon’s Machiavellian bass draws near in solitude, pulses more and more impetuously while a heavy guitar bursts in, followed after a few phrases by its twin, together painting a beautiful melodic but shadowy solo. An intro that swiftly projects us into the thrashy sound of guitars, courtesy of the excellent producer Michael Rosen (already with Testament), that preludes the rap singing of Scott Holderby, tender and almost whispered, monotonous but effective. And the chorus explodes, shines with verve: backing vocals grittier than ever, courtesy of all the group's members. And here is the ruthless "The Strain", where a boy is dying with a bullet in his body while heavy riffs and slap bass hop on the scratch train of Pause, later stretched by the energetic guitar in the chorus; let's not even ask how they managed to create such musical organisms having a thrash background, we just have to listen to the solos and the interlude of Barberia’s organ-like similar-keyboard. More funk and groove with "High Potency" and once again Pause in the spotlight in the incredible "Window". This song is tough not so much for its skeleton but for the beginning, appearing as a declaration of Mordred’s way of understanding music: voices from the "window on the world" and a guitar that frolics, the scratches that start their nice cruise and the thrash guitar descending from the ultraheavy plateau and grows slowly to rise in the air. And off we go. The kite also flutters in the critical and caustic text against television:

"...Bullshit, lies, it's what you saw/Censorship on the screen/This is your window to the world/You work - you spend/This trend will never end/Why not open your eyes?/The truth - hides/No doubt the news is false/Why not open your mind?..."

In this album, Scott Holderby manages to find space as a complete lyricist in two tracks, which do not smell like thrash. This is the case with the little ruby "Esse Quam Videri", super funk and overflowing with ideas, with Scott's filtered voice and the whole band playing, with harmony, heavy parts, and melodic solos: the track breathes without using senseless power or muddled electronics. "Downtown" contains a quote from Thin Lizzy's "Johnny The Fox Meets Jimmy The Weed", again covered in the maxi single "Falling Away". At Dynamo Open Air in 1992, Brian Robertson (formerly of Thin Lizzy and Motorhead) would join them on stage to sing this beautiful song. Back to the track, it doesn’t present an astounding heavy avalanche but an oscillating trend, with Holderby’s very nasal voice. Of a different kind is "Falling Away", preceded by the trembling acoustic capsule "In The Beginning", the single I mentioned earlier: the air raid siren turns into pure thrash-truck filled with Pause’s scratches and Scott Holderby’s voice, this time pleading and inspired: the synopsis of the track is composed, slow but really delightful and melancholy. “Killing Time” is more accelerated, following the path of the previous one, always with gloomy cheerfulness and an engaging riff. The lyrics become more critical towards the conformist society and pollution, especially in the most thrash song of the platter, "Progress", featuring fast passages, but less rich in inventiveness, yet it doesn’t pale at all next to the others. The text (translated very roughly by me) is a bitter reflection on the world:

"In the grey sky darkness is caused by this great machine that breathes smoke/ Hammering pistons/Gear grinding/Furnace that stays fueled by coal/Turbine roar/Jet scream/Man's dream is to learn to fly/Simulating Nature/Studying the wind/Flying in the sky/ Progress born from the will to learn/Conquest from man's greed/Impossible to blend hate with science/ Impossible to blend it/Progress not with destruction/Proceed challenging corruption/Gaining ground, moving forward/Gaining ground/Massive structures/Stone and steel/Built on the land we kill/Burning forests/Emptying lakes/Demonstrate our will to progress by splitting the atom/The power threatens us/The evil we hold in our hands/scaring our neighbors/Aiming our guns/Until we get our demands."

A laborious, heartfelt, unpretentious, almost perfect album, with some smudging in the last songs, but on the other hand, you cannot ask for more from this thrash-funk lab that Mordred is. The problem will be to renew and start again from this record. The answer comes from the subsequent mini-LP "Vision": the group has already given. A pity.