Most people can cite bands that played soundtrack to their childhood and adolescence. The childhood band is remembered fondly, but possibly with a blush; the band of the teenage era remains a secret love, though the band’s catalogue probably doesn’t get the playtime it once did. Subjects and ideas that are new, relevant, and exciting (and therefore awesome) at fourteen often fade into angst-ridden memories by the end of adolescence and the early college years.

But sometimes a band endures, mirroring one’s own development through the awkwardness of teenagerhood. By the time college rolls around, that band has transcended all previous incarnations and expectations and blossomed into maturity.

Okay, the last scenario is pretty rare—in my mind, nearly impossible. (And most people aren’t mature when college starts.) But Orange County, CA post-hardcore/hard rock outfit Project 86 measures up, having grown up from a Rage Against the Machine emulator into a unique group well worth the critic’s respect and fan’s adoration. They shadowed my development with their own. Lead singer Andrew Schwab has long been lauded for his cryptic and well-written lyrics, while the punishing basslines of Steven Dail and extraordinarily catchy riffwork of guitarist Randy Torres, in addition to recently departed drummer Alex Albert’s rhythms, rounded out Project’s sound. Now, in mid-2007, I’ve been a Project enthusiast of varying degrees since their third album, 2002’s Truthless Heroes. I preordered the 2003 self-release, indie version of Songs to Burn Your Bridges By and made the trip to buy the Tooth and Nail Records rerelease a year later. I preordered 2005’s splendid …And the Rest Will Follow and listened to it as soon as I tore open the packaging.

But college and changed musical preferences got in the way, so the release of the band’s penultimate sixth effort, 2007’s Rival Factions, crept up on me. I bought the record sonically blind, on a whim, expecting nothing less than excellence from the decade-old band I had grown to love so much. My expectations were obliterated.

Razed in the beautiful cacophony of Andrew Schwab’s screamed poetry. Annihilated by the snarling riffs from Randy Torres’ guitar. Exterminated by Steven Dail’s thunderous basslines. From the first notes of Evil (A Chorus of Resistance), I knew this was still the Project 86 I knew and loved, but also that it was a Project 86 writing and recording songs they really liked—not playing for anybody’s expectations, but performing what they love. Evil is prototypical Project heaviness: metal-tinged licks as background to Schwab’s trademark sing/shout/scream style. Forcefully, full-throated, Andrew sings with a natural fire, allowing small imperfections to remain, favoring passionate delivery over virtuoso kudos (one reason I’ve always loved his voice). “I want something you have,” he yowls, “I want it, oh, so bad,” he finishes (with more than a little irony). Touches of goth rock bleed through the band’s main hard rock/post-hardcore front, resulting in this compelling and beautifully catchy anthem. Put Your Lips to the TV, a peppy, punky invective against discouraging voices, takes a cue from earlier Project songs in its tightly directed frustration; but with this album, the angst factor isn’t turned up to high, and the criticism is delivered with a smooth dose of irony. Elton John-style keyboards precede a hard rock riff assault, a beguiling combination; Schwab’s ensuing wails, as well as the feedback tinged guitar solo, wed to produce a powerful message with a roaring beat.

The Forces of Radio Have Dropped a Viper Into the Rhythm Section lives up to its title; the drumming (by Jason Gerkin for this record) sounds like it was done by a man possessed, much like a viper were slithering about his drum kit. The rhythm is perfectly executed, however, and forms the backbone for this lightning-quick diatribe—almost like something The Misfits might have played. Molotov, a Cure-esque tune lamenting the emptiness of the life of a partier, is the most prominent example of a band anxious to write a record they would listen to. Heavily reliant on smooth keyboard work and gliding guitar, the bassline pounds below Andrew’s mournful singing:

Too bad they can’t say at the break of the dawn that the night was a dream;
Nobody can say at the rise of the sun that it was what it seemed.
I know I swallowed it all and I can never be full—
And now they call me a fool for leaving?

This is one of the few tunes on the album that hearkens to the band’s Christian faith, alluding to the idea that we are responsible for lives of emptiness. Most fun for me is the juxtaposition between that thought and the musical style--80s tinged with modern production smoothness--that is so often criticized for lack of substance. That makes the song all the more memorable for me. Slaves to Liberty returns the musical mood back to roaring rock and cryptic messages: Let go the contraband, my friend—we cannot gravitate to destination death!, Schwab screams over the driving keyboard-filtered riff and manic drumming. Randy’s solos here are some of the heaviest and feedback-laden of the disc, a perfect fit for the song’s frantic pace. The sludgy rocker, Pull Me Closer, Violent Dancer, is a hypnotic command to sweat it out, sweat it out—the first time Project has ever nudged the listener to dance along on record. Frankly I have no clue what the song is really about, but the escalating bridge, consisting only of drums, hand claps, and the band joining in voice--don’t stop pulling me closer, creates a dynamic entirely unexpected thus far in the band’s career. The surprise works beautifully.

Illuminate launches with an archetypal Project line: Night falls, like a vulture, on its prey: wicked culture. Andrew’s timbre showcases itself especially well here, shaping the mood and emotion with the rise and fall of the intensity of his delivery. When they hide in the shadows of night, light ‘em up, light ‘em up in the dark, let’s ignite, he cajoles chillingly against the heavy keyboard/bass and guitar blend. In my mind it sticks out as a highlight even though it manages to defy written description. The standout of the disc, though, is the plea-laden The Sanctuary Hum. Randy executes one of his trademarks especially well here, crafting a relatively simplistic chord progression with his guitar tuned to sound full, heavy, and mean, a technique that may not be the mark of an ace guitarist but rather of a great songwriter. The band’s ability to successfully marry that snarling riff (think Cavity King from ATRWF or Sad Machines and One Armed Man (Play On) from Drawing Black Lines) to Andrew’s emotive delivery is what makes the band so unique and memorable for me. Schwab laments the shortcomings of mortal man, especially hypocrisy in the church—this is the reason the sanctuary hums, God save us, God save us, from Your chosen ones—through allusions to abuse and sin: But we must pretend your broken wrist just happened when you fell off your bike. The song’s urgency rises with the minor-key background vocals, some not unlike Gregorian chant (hence, the sanctuary hum), and others mournful choruses to highlight the incredible force in Andrew’s voice. It’s an especially refreshing song about hypocrisy, particularly because Schwab ends the song with this redemptive sentiment:

This the reason the helpless celebrate:
He takes us, He takes us, from our violent shame…

The band goes lighthearted for the autobiographical Caveman Jam, a fairly straightforward tune musically whose appeal lies in the story that’s told. And that Andrew actually says “yo” in the song—that flies past quickly, but it’s still awesome. With stuttering delivery on the chorus, Andrew chronicles the many people told them to “write something sensitive”—in short, don’t sound so angry. For a longtime fan of the band in particular, it’s funny; and for me, it’s especially great, given that my parents told me (when I was about fourteen) to quit listening to so much screaming. It’s the weakest song on the album, but it’s worth a listen. The pensive, electronica and indie influenced Normandy serves as the dramatic and effective closer, starting with Andrew singing in an inflectionless tone, before the riff and keyboard yield to the bass and Andrew adds emotion during the chorus. Remarkably powerful in its simplicity, Normandy is unique in Project’s catalogue and second only to The Sanctuary Hum on my list of favorites. The electronic elements lend themselves to contemplation of the lyrics, which center on a car crash metaphor (tragedy in high beams) and rise to a final thought:

They’re watching you crashing into, crashing into me
and wishing they had what we see—had what we believe.

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All the comparisons I make to other bands are purely so as a point of reference for people to understand my description; as Project has matured, I’ve found it more and more difficult to articulate the nuances of the mixing, composition, songwriting, and execution in a way that others can sonically picture. In addition to the incredible musical composition, the physical packaging of the album is well worth the price of admission; the blue jewel case functions as color-coded glasses for the dual-inked liner notes (which is way too much fun to play with). Rival Factions tops all other Project 86 albums; it’s probably the most intelligent hard rock, not to mention catchiest, I’ve heard in quite some time. If you loved Project before and haven’t heard them in a while, pick up this album and have some catch-up conversation; and if you’re entirely new, go ahead and check these guys out. Put another way, I wouldn’t love them this much if they weren’t still ridiculously good—and dare I hope, getting better.

***** (Five stars)

Great Music to Play While listening to the sanctuary hum

Recommended: Yes