When the world was introduced to Canadian pop-punks Sum 41, they were a foursome of spiky-haired misfits fuelled by snottily rebellious attitudes, substance-enhanced mischief and lyrics about hangin' out and drinkin' in the back of an El Camino. Things have changed.

The foursome has become a threesome. Their forthcoming album, Underclass Hero, features such controversial songs as "March of the Dogs," in which the band declares they've killed the President of the United States. They've sold seven million records and become walking paparazzi targets, particularly frontman Deryck Whibley, who's married to Canuck punkette Avril Lavigne. Oh, and they don't drop liquid LSD to amuse themselves anymore.

"I'd never do liquid acid again, no chemicals or drugs. I don't smoke weed or anything. I stick to, basically, just drinking," Whibley explains. "There is more to enjoy in life than just getting wasted all the time."

The maple leaf state's most famous punks have instead been using their time to work on new album Underclass Hero, out July 24. After a two year hiatus, the band is returning with a more mature, personal and political sound, something that has already caused some controversy south of the border, mostly because of recently released track "March of the Dogs."

"And now the president's dead / Because they blew off his head / No more neck to be red / I guess to heaven he fled," Whibley roars on the politically-loaded track.

Rolling Stone writer Mordechai Shinefield has called the lyrics "rhetoric to incite violence," while a spokesperson for the house minority leader said it was "inflammatory and asinine."

"It's funny because, to be totally honest, I did not expect anyone to even blink at that song because, at this point, it's so fuckin' pass," Whibley explains. "Everyone's talked about how bad George Bush is. Everyone knows that."

Whibley was so convinced dissing Bush Jr. was akin to kicking a dead horse, he almost didn't include the raucous track, but was compelled to have it on Underclass Hero after rethinking his personal manifesto for the disc. The young songwriter, who also produced the album, set out to create what he calls "a deeply personal album that reflects the confusion and frustration in modern society." He forced himself to look inward and write about his most personal thoughts, which were framed by the discomfort he felt toward modern life. Bush was one of those things — as was writing about more personal issues, such as his turmoil over never knowing his father.

"‘Dear Father <Complete Unknown>' is a song I've tried to write forever and I just never finished it," Whibley explains. "I've never met my father — ever. I grew up with a single mother and I have no brothers or sisters, so it was just me and my mom. She had me when she was 17. I had a different upbringing from anyone that I know and I started writing a song called ‘Dear Father.' It's basically about growing up my entire life and how I don't even know his last name and I've never even seen a picture of him. I don't know anything about him. That was the hardest song I've ever had to write because I didn't even know what to write and it was hard because I never really talked about it."

Whibley says he intentionally put himself under the microscope in an uncomfortably honest context and climbed his own "subconscious brick walls" that previously kept him from writing anything too personal. The result is a remarkably heartfelt record, but it's also one he's been terrified of letting people hear.

"This is the scariest record I've ever had to make — by far," he asserts. "It was scary the first time I showed it to anyone, the first time I showed it to the band. Every time I've played this record for people, I'm always kind of, like, [uncomfortable pause] … It gets to certain lines in certain songs and …."

Along with having to tackle his personal demons, Whibley also had to come to terms with immense turmoil in the band before writing Underclass Hero. Sum 41 had been on the rocks during their last tour in support of 2005's Chuck, and things got so bad Whibley was actually convinced he would never record with the band again.

"I thought that was the last record — I thought I wasn't going to do another record again," he explains. "I got off tour, went home and basically had quit the band in my own mind. I didn't tell the guys that, but I just thought, ‘There's no way I can do another album. There's no purpose.'"

Ironically, it was only after Sum 41 fired all their management and guitarist Dave "Brownsound" Baksh quit that Whibley felt comfortable to forge ahead with a clean slate and three members who truly believed in making a completely different record.

"We knew Dave wasn't into it for a long time, and I was always worried about making another record with him that way because he'd been so out of it and so unenthusiastic about making music for so long," Whibley says.

Now, the band is gearing up for the album's release, Whibley is getting ready to reveal his inner most self to the world and the band is readying an international tour. But now that they've matured, don't expect any hijinks from these respectable, young, Ajax, Ont., natives. Well, maybe just a little.

"I remember realizing at one point years ago how strong the human body actually is, how much you can actually do to yourself and still be fine," Whibley laughs, reminiscing about his not-so distant days of drunken debauchery.

The notorious prankster then goes on to amend his previous statements about his current clean-living detail.

"On the road it's a different thing because you have nothing to fuckin' do at night," he rationalizes. "You play a show at wherever city you are and you're going to be up until 5 a.m., so you might as well go out and do something stupid."

Guess you really can't take the punk out of the pop artist.

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