CKY might be an impostor fragrance which, in essence, would sum up the philosophy of the Pennsylvanian quartet and their legions of skater fans: everything stinks. Everything. Except CKY.

"Our fans are pretty much the antisociety, just waiting for the change," says guitarist Chad Ginsburg. "They know everything sucks, and they're not afraid to say it. They're not buying records. They're the most sarcastic and objective fuckers out there. They've just been taught that everything has been blown out of proportion and is pretty stupid, if you take a second to look at it."

On the surface, such disenchantment might suggest that CKY are on the rage rock bandwagon and digging the ride (after all, it's hip to be pissed (and their tremendous credibility in skate circles conjures images of "pop punks with a poo-poo pee-pee mentality." However, these preconceptions dissipate in the first measures of "96 Quite Bitter Beings," the opening track from the band's debut disc, Volume 1. The song's main riff is a scornful, detuned calliope to CKY's circus of discontent; heavy, but sufficiently deficient of the Kornabee tendency to rage without reason. Therein lies CKY's philosophy: eclipse and destroy flaccid, carbon-copy entertainment and snore-rock via a unique sound, acute wit, and hardcore work ethic.