Bane.

MOST BANDS HANDLING early press for a forthcoming record release tend to lean on any number of common hyperbolic sentiments: "This is our most innovative work," or "this is the most creative, collaborative recording process we have ever been through." Yeah, whatever. It's a warm-up act normally for both interviewer and interviewee, a method of moving on to other, more pertinent questions. Unless, of course, you are Aaron Bedard, the lead singer of Boston's hardcore faves Bane.

"We are not sure what we expect, to be honest with you," says Bedard, as he and bandmates Zach Jordan (guitar), Aaron Dalbec (guitar), Pete Chilton (bass) and Bob Mahony (drums) drive up to Portland. "You cross your fingers and hope the kids are going to dig it. There are a lot of new kids in the scene and hopefully they won't see us as some old hardcore band," he says with a laugh.

Wow, a little frankness.

"At one point I thought we were going to change things and leave a mark," he says when I express equal parts surprise and gratitude for his honesty. "But you grow older and you decide what your priorities are. Now I just love playing music with these guys. Everything else can fall on its face."

Bedard and I don't know each other and we have never met, even in passing. Still he comes clean about the band's third full length offering The Note. And why not be straight up? Since its inception, Bane has always been the sort of honest, no frills, blue collar hardcore band--the kind of band that you root for--without being a paint-by-numbers outfit. Still, the band's latest effort, The Note, marks a certain natural evolution for the band and its music. "We always fucked around with the traditional structure, but we approached these songs with more confidence. It's still hardcore but not so concentrated on anthems and epic sing-alongs."

It's not just the lack of finger pointing and breakdowns that sets The Note apart (though there are some of both). After all, this is a group of guys that have been riding around in a van together for the better part of 10 years and the record echoes a certain road-inspired self-awareness and well earned maturity.

"We knew we had to challenge ourselves a bit further so this is the record where we talk about the real life of it ... that we have real fears and insecurities, that there are some issues that we are going to have to work on," he says, after I compare The Note to the all-important third date.

Bedard's self-actualization isn't limited to just Bane. "Its harder for bands to be directly challenging--you risk losing fans and risk turning people off," he says, not particularly pleased with some of the changes that the band has witnessed over the years. "There are a lot of issues to get into but nobody wants to talk about them in between songs, and that worries me. There are not enough bands that are willing to put it to their audience and there are a lot of kids who don't want to be challenged. They want to dance and show off their fancy clothes." Amen, brother.

But Bedard is a realist, trying to balance the often fragile relationship between musician and fan with the fact that while Bane loves to be out on the road, they will not be able to tour forever. "This is closer to the end than the beginning of our journey," he says. "Life is moving on here and things are going to change."

Still, he's quick to point out that The Note is not a farewell in any way. "Who knows, we can get hyper-inspired," he says. "We will just have to see what happens."

We hang up just before the band prepares to rock the shit out of Portland and I can't help but think that these guys are already hyper-inspired.