When he was 24 years old, Bay Village native Richard Patrick took off to California on a mission. "I went to get a record deal, a manager and a sun tan," he says via phone from a New York hotel room. "As soon as I got that, I took my equipment back to Cleveland."

He says he initially set out to recruit his band mates from Cleveland. But bassist Frank Cavanagh was the only Clevelander he could convince to join his fledgling industrial-rock band called Filter.

"All the other bands I ran into were just not into breaking up their own bands to join my band," he says. "They were kind of bitter. The sheer fact that I got a record deal was insulting. They were extremely bitter and jealous, and I just felt a lot of animosity. I remember people making fun of me. They would say stuff like, "Are you going to get on MTV and talk to Martha Quinn?' They were sarcastic and shitty."

After the resulting album, 1995's Short Bus, went on to sell a million-something records and get the band all the exposure on MTV it could ask for, the resentment lingered.

"I remember this one band, I wanted this kid to play drums and was trying to convince him to join Filter," Patrick says. "His bandmates attacked me at the Grog Shop one night. I said "fuck this' and went to Chicago. I grabbed [drummer] Matt Walker and [guitarist] Geno Lenardo from Chicago. That turned into a successful version of Filter."

Patrick admits he wasn't entirely without blame.

"I was drunk all the time," he says, adding that he's now been sober for five years. "I remember being a bit of a prickly guy myself so it was a bit of both. I love Cleveland, and I would raise my family in Cleveland. It's just that the music scene was a little more abrasive than Chicago or Los Angeles."

Like Nine Inch Nails, for whom Patrick was the touring guitarist from 1989 to 1991, Filter features a rotating cast of musicians who revolve around one central songwriter. As the band's leader, Patrick has been responsible for whatever controversy has come up. And there's been plenty of that. The band's first single, "Hey Man, Nice Shot," was inspired by the public suicide of Pennsylvania politician Budd Dwyer, who killed himself at a televised news conference in 1987.

"I didn't want anyone to think I was cashing in on someone's death," Patrick explains. "I was kind of shocked that a person could hold a press conference and do that. I remember thinking, 'Hey man, nice shot.' Then six months later, my song's a big hit, and the widow of that man is calling the record label going, 'How dare you.' The reality is that he held a press conference and it impacted me. I had to be honest about the song once people thought it was about [Nirvana's] Kurt Cobain. The truth is that it was written in 1991 and it was inspired by suicide in general. It was unfortunate that you write a song about suicide and everyone wants to apply it to their lives."

Written during the height of his battle with alcoholism, "Take a Picture" didn't incite any controversy. But the song, about an incident in which a drunken Patrick started to unclothe during a flight on a commercial airline, has taken on new meaning.

"That was written during the fight of my life," Patrick says. "For a long time, I really didn't want to talk about what the song was about because I started drinking again. It is a total cry for help. When it became a hit and when I sing it now, I hope it's inspirational. I wrote it in the worst part of my life and get to sing it in the best part."

After recording a number of soundtrack tunes, Patrick put Filter on the back burner as he focused on other projects. He recorded one song with a band dubbed the Damning Well and then spent some time touring and recording with Army of Anyone, a supergroup of sorts that featured members of Stone Temple Pilots. But last year, Patrick decided to bring Filter back. He's called the resulting new album, Anthems for the Damned, his "howl in the night."

"I look at the sea of humanity and this huge civilization and it's doom and gloom," he says. "It feels like we're not really getting it. There's so many things going wrong on the planet. We are a complicated, foolish species. We're like the Missing Link. We're smart enough to realize killing is bad and loving is good, but we don't capitalize on it. We have two men in the White House whoring out the country for fuckin' oil. The oil companies are so goddamned greedy, they refuse to release their stranglehold on society. My favorite music is U2's War and the Clash's London Calling. You have to give it up for those guys. Like them, I have to say what I have to say."

All those issues come out on the album. The opening tune, "Soldiers of Misfortune," was written about a Filter fan who joined the war during his senior year of college but didn't get to live to graduate.

"He got killed in Iraq and the song took on huge meaning," says Patrick, who's just returned from playing a concert for the troops in Kuwait. "It made the Iraq War incredibly real. It's a pro-troops and anti-war song."

While the album's politics are pronounced, it's the sonic qualities that really distinguish it. "Soldiers of Misfortune" has an anthemic, U2-like quality, and the title track, "Cold (Anthem for the Damned)," could pass for present-day Peter Gabriel.

"Filter always had this genre-less quality," Patrick explains. "I kind of like that. It's been difficult for people to promote. But I truly believe Filter is modern rock. It's now. You could be a Radiohead fan or be a Nirvana fan or a Pantera fan and buy this record."

For the moment, Patrick says he has no commitments other than Filter.

"I really want Filter to be where it needs to be," he says. "It's my legacy and something I'm really proud of. I really like the new live band. I want to encourage the guys to write and be more of a part of things. They are talented folks and they are such amazing artists. It has made our show amazing. I can't wait to play the House of Blues. I would love to see that place sold out. We'll see what the little bird can do."

Filter, Ours, Opiate for the Masses: 8 p.m. Saturday, May 24 at House of Blues, 308 Euclid Ave., 216.241.5555. Tickets: $22 advance, $24 day of show.