It's the assignment from hell: interview the Bloodhound Gang, five snot-nosed Howard Stern fans who, perhaps by dint of luck, have managed to record one of the most requested songs in the land (the joke-infested "Fire Water Burn," a dirge-like take on one of the oldest rap lines in the book), not to mention a wildly successful full-length album (Fierce Beer Coaster on Republic/Geffen Records).

You skim the bio information. You grow more worried. The band members' names alone are enough to signal danger: Jimmy Pop Ali (vocals, samples), Lupus (guitar, vocals), Evil Jared (bass, vocals), D.J. Q-Ball (turntables, vocals), and Spanky G (drums).

You read that the muscular Evil Jared spent his pre-Gang days "downing sixes of Milwaukee's Beast, watching the Duke Boys, and fraudently collecting unemployment." Meanwhile, leader-of-the-spewbags Jimmy Pop was hanging out online, "looking for pictures of women pooping on each other." You theorize that the underage, undersized Spanky G was probably cruising junior high chicks at the mall and soaping windows in the 'hood. Delinquents, the lot of 'em.

You peruse the song titles: "I Wish I Was Queer So I Could Get Chicks;" "Kiss Me Where It Smells Funny;" and "Lift Your Head Up High (and Blow Your Brains Out)," to name a few. Listening to the tracks, you hear an unrelenting cavalcade of insults, puns, and banal cultural references layered atop a bed of samples, guitar riffs, and four-on-the-floor drumming. Aggressive. Childish. Menacing. (Imagine if the Beastie Boys were Catholic mall rats on a steady diet of Mad Magazine and Mountain Dew.)

You prepare yourself for the worst. Maybe the whole band will hold you down and give you multiple wedgies. Maybe they'll fart uncontrollably and make jokes about your mother. Maybe they'll swear like sailors and make wisecracks about your new running shoes...

You sit out in front of the venue, steeling yourself for conflict. You warn your audio guy, "This could get ugly." Finally, you get a firm grip on your microphone and barrel through the front door and around to the dressing room, spoiling for a fight.

"Hi, I'm Jimmy Pop," smiles a smallish, round-faced guy in a baseball cap. "You the folks from JAMtv?"

He jumps up from the battered couch and extends his hand in friendship. "I'm ready whenever you are," he offers, an aura of warmth and accessibility enveloping all those in the room.

"Guys, I'm gonna go do this interview, then we'll soundcheck, okay?" he inquires of his slouched bandmates. They nod agreeably.

"Those poor guys are really sick," he explains, motioning us to sit down, get comfortable. "I feel bad for them."

You keep your guard up. This is a trick! He wants to lull you into a false sense of security before lowering the boom!

Over the course of a half-hour interview, you're proven wrong. Aside from being the founder of the Bloodhound Gang, a ragtag Philadelphia outfit that combines Howard Stern, the Beastie Boys, and Slayer into a coherent musical potion, Jimmy Pop Ali is a swell guy. In fact, to a man, they're all swell guys! Polite. Funny. Intelligent. A bunch of Eddie Haskells in baggy jeans!

Riding high on the success of the record, Jimmy and company are in the midst of an extensive worldwide journey, the "One Fierce Beer Run" tour. Featuring their new live attack (guitars and drums mixed with samples and live DJ scribbling), the band combines the energy and immediacy of a rap act with the aggressive posturing of a metal band. The visual effect is not unlike a pack of wild monkeys gone loopy on too much cough syrup.

Later, at the show, you laugh yourself silly as Jimmy Pop makes politically incorrect jokes, pokes fun at the feverish Spanky G ("Awww, the little fella is sick and wants his mommy!"), and cuts loose with some house party dance moves that you haven't seen since Breakin' hit late-night television. As much as you try to suppress it, you wear an ear-to-ear grin through the entire set. Your friend provides a perfect summary of the events: "This is either the best concert or the worst concert I've ever seen," he tells you, shaking his rump as the band breaks into a shockingly faithful cover of Run-DMC's "It's Tricky."

Afterwards, you fight your way past dozens of adoring fans to convey your congratulations to the band. Nudging a glistening Jimmy Pop, you give him a cheesy thumbs-up sign: "Cool show, bro!"

"Didn't it suck?" he smiles at you.

SCOTT HESS