OTTAWA -- Sum 41 a family outing? What were the parents at the Congress Centre gig Sunday night thinking?

Like a convention of unconventional families, moms, pops, and their kids, average ages seven to 12, tried to bond over their favourite punk band, Sum 41.

Sounds touching, doesn't it?

Well, what began as a fun family outing quickly collapsed into a shockingly graphic assault of violent visuals and ear-curdling epithets worthy of A Clockwork Orange that had many horrified parents racing their little ones out the door as if the place was on fire.

HIGHLY CHARGED

By the looks of things earlier, most of the 2,500 attending expected some of the aural assault the highly charged punkers from Ajax are known and loved for.

But sometimes you have to be careful what you wish for.

The fearless foursome opened the show with a graphic music video, reminiscent of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. In it, drummer Steve Jocz beat a basketball buddy senseless before pulverizing him, Fargo-style, in a food processor to make an appetizing milkshake and serving him for dinner.

That was just the beginning.

From the first chords, the band had fury in their eyes.

Dressed in Hades-red and black, frontman Deryk Whibley looked, and sounded every inch the baddest boy in punk north of Green Day, snarling, spitting and swearing like a rabid dog.

Whibley let loose the funniest string of scatological comments heard since a drunk Iggy Pop tried to pick up MuchMusic reporter Jeannie Becker.

"Come on, come all, come" screamed Whibley at the top of his lungs. "Come all ..." before adding something obscene about tabloid fodder Anna Nicole Smith.

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea, mom and dad, bringing the kids to a Sum 41 show," he laughed with a footnote, "Oh well, too late now."

The band didn't let the house off the hook, covering Over My Head, Better Off Dead, Never Wake Up, All To Blame, Nothing On My Back, and There's No Solution in about 10 minutes.

Dave Baksh, Jay McCaslin and Jocz sprang from one tune to another with conveyor-belt precision, covering about 20 songs in their 90-minute set, including No Brains, Machine Gun, Grab the Devil, Still Waiting, Fat Lip and Moron.

In the end, the X-rated histrionics didn't last very long. As shocking as they were, Sum 41 is also one of the most entertaining bands going.

Whibley mounted a hilarious send-up of a bloated Elvis Presley on a cover of That's Alright and later, a gut-wrenching, though not particularly original, portrayal of buffoonery as American president George W. Bush, before magically appearing in the middle of the crowded floor for the sensitive ballad Better Off On My Own.

TERRIBLE SOUND

Thanks to the terrible sound of the Congress Centre or the excessive volumes that left my eardrums in tatters, the set sagged into a loud blur after an hour.

Whibley then got strangely quiet and the band focused on playing the set out as fast as possible.

Fortunately, that's the kind of adrenaline Sum 41 are known for.

In the end, the band was, as they always are, terrific in an abrasive and naughty kind of way.

It was just depressing to realize that the only people who were shocked by the graphic sexual and violent content of the gig weren't the young kids, but me.

Now I get the squeaky clean appeal of Hilary Duff.