In 1990, while waiting for "School's Out For Summer," I was so bilious that "Grrrr" were in abundance. It seemed to me that my teeth under pressure would fly out like old cans hit by a dodgy gunman. I felt genuinely irate while the house transformed into a Dantean Stygian swamp, so I devoured notes that would relax my swollen nervous ganglia, a stormy but complex music, carefully crafted, suitable for creating tenacious holiday images in the mind.

Enter Vio-Lence (originally Death Penalty), the band from Frisco that lovingly raised Robb Flynn and Phil Demmel, launching their careers in the realm of Thrash Metal Bay Area, in an artistic synthesis that began with the clubbing "Eternal Nightmare" and continued with this "Oppressing The Masses," a "Caress Of Steel" that has gallantly dulled the needle of my turntable, my ears pressurized by headphones, my ocular lobes fascinated by the "Family Photo," reminiscent of Bonellian memories, on the back cover: a Vio-Lence-sized balustrade with our heroes resembling Zeppelin-type fellas and "Bay Of Pigs" in the background.

Eight bombtrack-Thrash produced by the Perialas-"Wacko"Hunter team, rigorously aligned, skillfully balanced between tempo changes and fuelled, rich guitar solos, sometimes long, sometimes direct, without neglecting the socially themed lyrics (corruption, subliminal violence of mass media, personal torments) sung by a vocalist not lovable but a wordsmith cum grano salis, certainly (well?) liked by his companions.
A new atmosphere of tamed fury can be felt, after the rattling debut, as if the group wanted to take time, to experiment without relying entirely on the impact, which, however, is not lacking: Flynn and Demmel, undeniably one of the most lively rhythm tandems of the American Thrash scene of that time, are more inspired than ever. The album kicks off with the wonderful "I Profit" lasting seven minutes, listened to on an Italian and Padania winter Sunday, with the smell of broth wafting through the little house, the vinyl cover atop the unmade bed like my beard, while in my solitary head the spring-loaded bass of Deen Dell enters, challenging the future axes of Machine Head, but there's no time to waste. The bold drummer Perry Strickland urges on, literally whipping the cymbals before the dodger break, with the bass drum pedal pulsing like a heart close to a stroke, in the background the guitars discuss what to do, recreating even a spectral whistle heard in the "Another Time, Another Place" episode of the '70s series "Space: 1999": off we go.

The quintet invites us aboard with speed movements, up to the catharsis of the first roll followed by other composite and exquisite measures, funneling solo that takes off and lands like a corvette on a stormy sea. Stop and go with unheard blows: Sean Killian introduces himself shouting rudely, then silenced by the megachoruses of the "Good Fellas." Doesn't the voice charm? Doesn't it ennoble? The compositional level is so high that it makes one forget almost everything and live many earthlings swear by a wild Sean. "Officer Nice" persists in sleekness, hurling darts against corrupt cops, without simplifying the foundations of this non-innovative Thrash in sound, already institutionalized by the flagship bands of the time, but certainly enriched in the acrobatics of the strumming, in the tempo changes, in the diligent yet virulent rhythm: also perfectly fitting are the chorus of the refrain, which do not lower the tension. We can even talk about Tecno-Thrash, cousin to the Forbidden. "World In A World" is the other cannonball (with video included) catchy enough, galloping, equipped with an irresistible crescendo that explodes in the final clean slate, with surplus double bass persistent like a woodpecker ("Persistence Of Time" someone would say) and here the issue shifts on the side of taste, of the sensitivity to welcome melody and sound compression, that innate know-how that allows you to sew simple guitar phrases at speed, also involving the bass as in the opening of the piece "Mentally Murdered", another well-articulated shard with a refrain that instantly bonds to the ear.

No one can accuse the band of being sloppy, of clearly mimicking other combos, especially concerning the singing. This platter also contains the explosive title track, started by the bass played akin to "Lone Justice" by Anthrax and continues furious until the final baccanalian guitar solos by Demmel and Flynn, which are magnificent, coagulated without interruption, designed to amaze in concert, as evidence of great cohesiveness. The only gripe about the album is that it is purged of the song "Torture Tactics", victim of an unhealthy record censorship which led to the maceration of twenty thousand copies of the aforementioned unreleased work.

Subsequently, the group will dissolve without regrets after the birth, in articulo mortis, of the decent "Nothing To Gain", though the Machine Head and Torque, most notably, will recall the lesson bestowed by the mother ship.

Tracklist

01   I Profit (07:05)

02   Officer Nice (05:23)

03   Subterfuge (04:38)

04   Engulfed by Flames (03:54)

05   World in a World (04:11)

06   Mentally Afflicted (05:49)

07   Liquid Courage (05:27)

08   Oppressing the Masses (04:57)

09   Torture Tactics (05:20)

10   Officer Nice (live) (05:49)

11   Gutterslut (03:22)

12   Dicks of Death (03:40)

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