The Offspring are not for the easily sunburned. These Jimmy Buffetts for the text-messaging set are a bona fide rarity-a geographically tethered band in a region-free rock age. And Splinter, the SoCal quartet's seventh album, is a Point Breaking SUV cruise through Orange County: surfing and Taco Belling till dusk, silicone-groping and drinking till dawn. "The Worst Hangover Ever," punctuated by Dexter Holland's timeless couplet "I may not ever drink again/ At least not till next weekend," weds Buffett's cheery lyricism to bogarted Sublime upstrokes for a winking morning-after recap. Elsewhere, the buoyant "Spare Me the Details" has the disc's best opening line ("My girlfriend, my dumb donut") but steals Cornershop's "Brimful of Asha" melody whole-hog, and the first single, "Hit That," apes No Doubt's dancehall hiccups while lamenting a child left behind by promiscuous parents ("We're raising kids now/ Who raise themselves"). In other words, it's every Everclear song ever. These kinds of hard line stances we can appreciate from the Offspring-love, relationships, fly white guys-but the sloganeering of the leadoff cut "Neocon" clanks. "We are strong/ We are right," Holland chants over war-drum pounds, somehow aligning himself with both Rumsfeld and Dean in one ambiguous whoop. Yet for all the band's hook-lifting and base-covering, Holland's voice (arguably the most shrill in pop today) can own a song-he could bookend "Heartbreak Hotel" with "Self Esteem" and "She's Got Issues" and make it sound at home.