'HOT DOG FLAVORED' ANGER LIMP BIZKIT ALL SOUND AND FURY SIGNIFYING ... NOTHING.

Byline: Fred Shuster Music Writer

About eight years ago, as three generations of continuation school near-graduates descended from the cheap seats to form an impromptu mosh pit at the feet of hard rock's Slayer on stage at the Forum, few could've predicted that these pimply hordes would in a few short years become a powerful force in pop culture.

But that's exactly what has taken place. Pure, profanity-laced displays of naked aggression are now the norm. In fact, they're the cash cows of the record industry.

Testosterone-fueled outrageousness with no message attached has a choke-hold on the entertainment world. It's a cultural phenomenon that manifests itself in the increasingly popular cartoon world of wrestling, on the pop charts where rage-rockers Limp Bizkit, Korn, Insane Clown Posse and Eminem rule the roost, and in the misogynistic braying of radio star Tom Leykis' Howard Stern Jr. act (``I'm just preaching to the choir,'' he says).

``There's very real misdirected anger out there on the part of kids,'' says guitarist Kevin ``Noodles'' Wasserman of the Orange County pop-punk group the Offspring. ``It shows in a lot of different ways - by the music that's popular and the stuff that entertains them.''

Wrestling, for example, is enormous. Top-rated cable shows, like ``Smackdown!'' and ``Raw Is War,'' along with pay-per-view and arena events featuring superstars ``Stone Cold'' Steve Austin and Dwayne ``The Rock'' Johnson have brought in revenues of more than $340 million this year.

The commonly heard phrase, ``Just bring it,'' has, in fact, seeped into day-to-day life, thanks to the sport.

The message inherent in outrageous radio rants, profanity-laced rap-metal music and the wrestling subculture is extremely conventional, said Dr. Barbara O'Connor, communications professor and director of the Institute for the Study of Politics and Media at California State University, Sacramento.

This young white male anger - real or not - appears to be rooted in feeling left out, powerless and pushed to the side in these times of economic strength. It seems to be directed at everyone not like them. The male callers to Leykis' syndicated talk show, for example, rage about being victimized by women who are after their money, while anti-minority and homophobic sentiments are often a blatant subtext to much of rap-metal.

``It's young white anger pushed to the absurd,'' O'Conner said. ``And its prevalence has already changed the way such things as TV, pop music and radio are programmed. They're narrow-casted to appeal directly to its core audience. There's nothing new about what's being said here. But the fact that this very vocal segment has become such a driving force in the pop culture of the moment is new.''

It's a raging white male subculture that supports spectacles like wrestling and tractor pulls, the same audience that snaps up tickets to see the blaring rap-metal hybrid of Limp Bizkit's front man Fred Durst, proudly known as king of the ``mooks.''

Limp Bizkit, which sold 1.1 million copies of its moronically titled third album, ``Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water,'' upon release a few weeks ago, brings its ``Anger Management'' tour to the Forum tonight. Eminem, naturally, is among the opening acts.

Durst, 30, personifies the directionless anger of his head-banging fan base, which consists largely of young working-class and middle-class men. It's no accident the Jacksonville, Fla.-based Limp Bizkit's music has been dubbed ``sports rock'' or ``Adidas rock.''

Aiming straight at the entertainment values of their core crowd, the members of Limp Bizkit began their Ozzfest dates a few years ago by emerging from a gigantic, filthy toilet.

Rolling Stone magazine said Durst ``has all the articulate savvy of a meatloaf in a goalie mask.''

The five-member band, whose hit, ``Nookie,'' was part of the soundtrack to arson at Woodstock '99, is rock's answer to ``Fight Club,'' complete with busted noses and swollen knuckles.

In expletive-filled rants that pass for interviews, Durst revels in being disliked. ``I know why you want to hate me,'' he raps in Bizkit's summer hit, ``Take a Look Around (Theme From M:I-2).''

He also apparently likes to pick fights. It's open to question how much image-building is involved in his much-publicized and frequent ``feuds' with other bands. In his album notes, he singles out ``everyone that's caused me to suffer, without you I would have no reason to express myself.''

For instance, in a recent magazine article, Durst blasts Courtney Love, Nine Inch Nails, Creed and Metallica, just for starters.

``This is life,'' Durst said in a recent issue of the music magazine Revolver. ``If you don't want your kids to hear cuss words, then you should hide them in a closet forever.''

One thing Durst doesn't deny is that he mirrors his high school-age audience. From the look (cargo pants, T-shirt, wallet chain, pager, red Yankees cap) to the background (college dropout, Navy stint, baby out of wedlock, job as a tattoo artist), he has an affinity with the fans.

``I ask my students about this stuff and they say these groups and the whole rap thing is just their version of the Beatles,'' O'Connor said. ``I don't know, but it all seemed a bit more benign 35 years ago.''

Despite the common-man guise, Durst, rarely seen in public without a Playboy Playmate on his arm, is an industry player. He was named a senior vice president at Interscope Records and given the go-ahead to launch his own Flawless label.

``I'll never bite the hand that feeds me,'' Durst has said. ``And I'll always remember where I came from, and remember when I was homeless with a skateboard and a backpack. And I know that it can always go away, and I can always be back in that position. So I'm always going to give out the energy that I want back in return. I think that's important ... next year I could be back with a skateboard and a backpack begging for a job.''

Durst is also being courted by the film industry and has signed on to direct the films ``Nature's Cure'' and ``Runt.''

Durst says the latter film, to be produced by David Fincher (director of ``Seven'' and ``Fight Club''), is a revenge fantasy set in a post-Columbine high school.

``Just because Columbine happened doesn't mean you can pretend it didn't happen,'' Durst said. ``You need to enlighten people by making them understand what happens in public schools, or it's just going to get worse. You're not going to figure out how Columbine happened, but you can start to sort it out.''

That's about as deep as Durst gets. But then he's never been known for his articulate savvy. For that, we'll leave the last word to Bizkit guitarist Wes Borland: ``You hated us before, you'll probably hate us now.''

LIMP BIZKIT

Where: The Forum, 3900 W. Manchester Ave., Inglewood.

When: 7 tonight.

Tickets: $42.50.

Information: [phone].

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2 photos

Photo:

(1 -- cover -- color) call this ANGER MANAGEMENT?

Limp Bizkit gives vent to the head-banging rage of the white male subculture

(2) ``I'm always going to give out the energy that I want back in return,'' says Limp Bizkit front man Fred Durst, second from left.