FRAYED tempers and raw nerves often lead to some of the most startling revelations and reality checks. This is a factor that Helmet's drummer John Stanier understand only too well. It was the early hours of the morning in a fluroscently lit Austrian airport. Vocalist, guitarist and long-time friend Page Hamilton suddenly stopped their full-blown argument in mid-sentence, inches away from the Security Baggage checkpoint, and shattered Stanier's volatile illusions. "He brought it to my attention that I was 20-years-old when Helmet first started, and by the time we'd be finished touring I'd be 30 and that we'll have survived 10 years.

"It was one of those arguments where it's like, 'fuck you, I quit!' But then I thought about what Page had said and I knew he was right. This band has taken up a third of my life already, and I couldn't even begin to imagine being in another band because it's just so ingrained. It's funny," Stanier continues, "It's like I think we've been at the same level for a while now but, out of nowhere I've realised that for the first time ever I've taken a step back and looked at what we've done through to the point that we're at now.

"I've always been the youngest guy in the band and before this I was always like, 'yeah, I'm in a rock band ...' and now I realise I'm getting older and I can't believe that I've made a career out of it, which is a great, great thing."

If Staniers words have the brittle scent of sobriety and mortality licking at their heels then so does Helmet's fourth album the compelling, coruscating and muscled Aftertaste. Unravelling like one long thread of jagged, stalagnite riffs, bittersweet edged lyricism that twists through dervishes of betrayal, alienation, boredom and contempt it also earmarks a new chapter in the continuing evolvement and growth of one of America's notorious brutal hardcore brats.

The departure of guitarist Rob Eccheverria who absconded to the Biohazard fold, a gruelling year touring and the added pressure of laying down 12 dense and amphetamine sonic psalms for Aftertaste under the watchful eye and guiding hand of Barkmarket icon and producer Dave Sardy (The Chili Peppers, Slayer) made for a turbulent yet highly creative period.

For songwriter and frontman Hamilton it allowed him to flex his lyrical muscles while paying tribute to singer/songwriters who has insinuated their way into his psyche. "Every once in a while I hear a band that gives me hope and inspiration," he interrupts briefly. "I can listen to the first song on the new Elvis Costello album that is one of the most beautiful songs he has ever written, and he's been writing songs for 25 years. In the course of one week I saw two nights of Costello, Ron Sexsmith and Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. This gets me excited about getting up in the morning, writing songs and making music. There might not be something 'new' per se, but there's always going to be someone to carry it on. I'd like to think Helmet is doing that as well."

Stanier intercedes: "It's funny, but when we first released Betty, and I love that record - it's awesome, but, now that we've released Aftertaste, every interviewer I've spoken to has said, 'so, you've gone and made this straight ahead record.' Like, Betty is known as our experimental record,and I think that's kinda funny in a way, but I guess I kinda know what people are talking about.

"I like this record though because it's way more to the point and some people have compared it to Strap It On, maybe because the songs on this album are a little more stripped down; they're not as extravagant or as crazy as they were on Betty. There's a lot less fat on these songs. It also achieves two things, one, that it goes back to what we originally started doing, but at the same time it takes the next logical step."

Needled by a jaw-achingly long list of bands throughout history who have insisted on trying to recapture their past, Stanier would gladly hang up his drumsticks tomorrow should Helmet ever dare to slide back onto old and familiar turf and with a mixture of frustration and sheer irritability cites the legendary neon knights of doom laden piety Black Sabbath for doing just that.

"I brought this tape of Black Sabbath, y'know, long after Ossie left, when they went through their Devo period and all of these new lead singers. Anyway, I got this record from 1990 and it's pathetic. Horrible. It was like, 'What the hell were those guys thinking?' They were one of the greatest bands in the world and they put out this album that was a joke, and I'd never ever wanna be in that position. I think as a band that's almost our goal to top each record."

While Stanier evidently is the kind of man with a clear and rigid sense of conviction and purpose, Hamilton blurs preconception as the protagonist of angst who likes to shroud himself in shadows and ambiguity. Stanier agrees and adds "I think since our first record, Page and his lyrics have always been vague, actually, that's probably not the right word. He's always been mysterious and poetic and there's never been anything concrete. It's almost like he's saying 'make up your own mind.'

"Even with Aftertaste you'll be left thinking he's talking about a certain person and he's not. It's more of the 'big picture' kinda thing. But I would say it's extremely biographical about things that have happened to us in the last two or three years."

Flashback to New York City circa 1989 and a young, hungry and unknown jazz-trained guitarist named Page Hamilton who had briefly enjoyed a stint in Band Of Susans but who had a far grander vision hinting at a ballistic war cry with his own incarnation Helmet. With guitarist Peter Mengele, bassist Henry Bogdan and Australian-born drummer John Stanier they came across as a brash, unconventional anti-fuss hardcore army that wielded a lethal concoction of Henry Rollins meets avante garde jazz.

Their debut single Born Annoying captured everything that they hoped to embody in the future and if it didn't reek of the pungent stench and hoary residue of a night spent at CBGBs knocking back booze and slamming themselves into brick walls then their debut album Strap It On did. Signing in 1992 with Interscope they delivered the crushing Meantime which quickly drew audiences and fans from the spectrum of MTV through to college radio.

The departure of guitarist Mengele and his subsequent replacement by the Rob Echeverra resulted in an album of beautifully experimental diversity. Betty swung through jazz intricacies, ensembles and provocative collisions of Robert Johnson and Captain Beefheart.

The remainder of 1994 saw the Helmet bandwagon hit the road after which they took a short break before they hurled themselves into pouring their energies to Aftertaste. Never ones to rest on their laurels, they also contributed some wild gems for films such as Johnny Mnemonic, The Jerky Boys and Feeling Minnnesota.

Hamilton, restless by nature, briefly stepped outside the Helmet cradle and recorded some instrumental licks with German guitar fulcrum Caspar Brotzmann on their album Zulutime. He also played guitar on Joe Henry's Trampoline album and compiled some gasoline dirges for the score of Al Pacino/Robert DeNiro film Heat.

Helmet; intense, gritty and aggressive and yet somehow residing behind a veil of anonyminity. In fact, so private a band that even their most die-hard fans wouldn't even recognise them should they stumble across their paths, and as far as Stanier is concerned that's the way it should be: "We've never had any of our pictures on our records and we're definitely one of those bands that just gets up on stage and just plays.

"It's pretty boring come to think of it, and the private side? Well, it's pretty private. We just do our own thing. Snowboard a lot. But I think that's the perceptions people have of us. Page is obviously gonna have a little more recognition because he's the main guy, but, yeah, people rarely recognise us and when you get down to it they know very little about us ...."