The Offspring Splinter (Columbia) Halfway through Splinter, the Offspring's first album in three years, there's a song written from the vantage point of a young drinker with a god-awful hangover: "It hurts so bad, I'm never gonna drink again/At least not till next weekend." One reason a nineteen-year-old band with hardcore-punk roots can feel comfortable writing frat-boy-friendly songs is that in the Offspring's Cali-punk world, progress is less about maturity than about finding faster beats and bigger riffs.

Splinter does have its share of serious moments, as on the opener, "Neocon," a vague, Fugazi-esque statement of purpose ("We will not compromise/We will never lose to you"). But mostly Splinter relies on a familiar collection of party-hearty and slamming sounds: catchy pogo punk ("Long Way Home"), sludgy pseudo-grunge ("Race Against Myself"), reggae-lite jams ("The Worst Hangover Ever") and lighthearted ditties about romantic dysfunction ("Spare Me the Details"). Ironically, Splinter drags when the Offspring are most faithful to their roots -- trad-punk numbers such as "Lightning Rod" are a bit too reverential. But like jokey pioneers the Ramones, the Offspring could keep riding their dumb humor and smart riffs well into middle age. (CHRISTIAN HOARD)

Ryan Adams Love Is Hell, Pt. 1 & 2 (Lost Highway)

According to Ryan Adams' semi-coherent Web posts during the making of what was supposed to be his third studio album, his label balked as his new songs, telling him they were "too alternative rock," "incredibly depressing" and "not your best stuff." And they were right . . . except about that last part. Love Is Hell -- delayed and then broken up into dual EPs -- is an exquisite portrait of the artist as a tired young man: tired of love, tired of fame and, most of all, tired of lonely nights spent in the Chelsea Hotel, where this fifteen-song New York City serenade plays out. With Adams trading in his raspy vocals and honky-tonk instrumentation for lofty croons over violins, cellos and piano, Love Is Hell aims for Nick Drake, Morrissey, and more recent Britpop luminaries (see the "Wonderwall" cover), and -- like most everything he does these days -- is sure to piss off the alt-country faithful. The results are painful, yet exhilarating: "English Girls Approximately" is a bittersweet account of love lost (Adams' strong suit) featuring Brit bird Marianne Faithfull; the title track is a fleeting guitar-driven blast of drunken bliss, and "Hotel Chelsea Nights" evolves from maudlin torch song to sing-along spiritual. The song's coda, "Strung out like some Christmas lights/Out there in the Chelsea nights," captures Adams as an artist alone . . . and shining brightly. (BILL CRANDALL)

Fefe Dobson Fefe Dobson (Island/Def Jam)

"Sassy" is the first word that comes to mind on hearing the ebullient music of FeFe Dobson, a precocious, bi-racial Canadian teenager. Guitar-driven pop, informed by an appreciation of bands that range from various Jackson siblings to Nirvana, makes up the bulk of her eponymous debut. She has a knack for hooks, as the first single, "Take Me Away," amply demonstrates, but doesn't sacrifice content. "Unforgiven" is a snappy, screeching "screw you" to her absent father, while "Bye Bye Boyfriend" offers further evidence of her sharp tongue as she dispenses with an ex. Dobson was aided and abetted by producer Jay Levine and master mixer by Tom Lord-Alge, and the resulting dozen tracks (plus the hidden "Rainbow," a piano-and-strings ballad) reflect a rock sensibility that swings from classic to thrash: there are moments on "Stupid Little Love Song" that recall the Eagles' "Hotel California," while other songs bristle with punk energy. It's an eclectic and impressive debut from a spunky but surprisingly mature eighteen-year-old. (CHRIS RUBIN)

Paula Frazer A Place Where I Know: 4-Track Songs 1992-2002 (Birdman)

Paula Frazer's music stems from a childhood in the gothic South -- a place closer to Faulkner than Grisham. For nearly a decade, her San Francisco band Tarnation voiced Frazer's creative vision -- pain, suffering and fractured love painted with dirt-floor houses, depression-era calico and lives that never reached their potential. A Place Where I Know collects a decade of four-track demos recorded in Frazer's home that are infused with the emotion of a time gone by. Frazer's alto-soprano is a well-honed instrument which she uses to great effect on songs like "Taken" and the ghostly "Deep Was the Night," where she sings, "The say the night's a devil, they say the time was right/Let all truth be hanged above me, deep was the night." A Place Where I Know is both a perfect introduction to and companion for the music of Frazer and Tarnation, but it's not for everyone: Hope may occasionally shine through on this disc, but it's not easy listening by any stretch. (ANDREW STRICKMAN)

Casiotone for the Painfully Alone Twinkle Echo (Tomlab)

Owen Ashworth, alias Casiotone for the Painfully Alone, returns with his third album of home-recorded, lo-fi, miniature synth-pop. The ultra-short pieces -- the fourteen tracks run just thirty minutes -- were made on his Casio keyboard. The lyrics are enigmatically literate, as the titles suggest (e.g. "Calloused Fingers Won't Make You Strong, Edith Wong") while the moods and beats are often in contrast, be it the funereal "To My Mr. Smith," the merely melancholic "Toby, Take a Bow," or the joyfully jittery, Tom-Waits-meets-the-Cars "Jeane, If You're Ever in Portland." Ashworth has invited many comparisons: There is something of Leonard Cohen's parched poetry in spoken-word cuts like "Blue Corolla" and "Roberta C." And if you've ever wondered what the Velvet Underground's "Heroin" might sound like sped way up, check out "It Wasn't the Same Somehow." Perhaps not breathtaking, but definitely mind-sweeping, Twinkle Echo is an intimate window on a man and his delightfully quirky ideas. (ADRIAN ZUPP)

20 Miles Life Doesn't Rhyme (Fat Possum)

Jon Spencer Blues Explosion axeman Judah Bauer allegedly wrote this entire album in three weeks, and it shows -- but that's a good thing. The songs on Life Doesn't Rhyme -- 20 Miles' third release -- have the spontaneity and slack feel of the Rolling Stones circa the early Seventies, with the slightest nod toward the Velvet Underground. Bauer often exercises his Stones jones, and his guitar riffing and warbly vocals are especially effective here. "Barely Breathing (for Hank Williams)", with its shaking maracas, "Clover," with cowbell and slide guitar, and the title track, with its quarter-note stomp, are driving rockers. "Ship is Sinking Fast" mixes in the spartan blues that Bauer has immersed himself in while working with legends like R.L. Burnside and Otha Turner, filtered through a bit of Nick Cave. "Drown the Whole World" flips the guitar and drum track backwards to highlight Bauer's pleading lyrics. In the end, it's all surprisingly melodic. (MEREDITH OCHS)

Kelis Tasty (Star Trak)

Like her cronies the Neptunes, Kelis is all about funky beats and funky booty . . . and her long-awaited second U.S. release has plenty of both. The Pharrell Williams/Chad Hugo-penned (and Grammy-nominated) single "Milkshake" sets the tone for this batch of ear (and pelvis) candy: Over a sleazy wash of keyboards, the Harlem-raised diva moans, "My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard . . . I could teach you but I'd have to charge." Other highlights include the spacey, frenetic "Millionaire," featuring OutKast's Andre 3000, and Raphael Saadiq's sweet soul ballad "Glow." Things get a bit less subtle -- and inspired -- when boyfriend Nas shows up for "In Public": She coos, "Let's get it on in public," while he raps about his men's room fantasy -- and rhymes "zoom" with "womb." Due to its many cooks, Tasty lacks continuity but still lives up to its name. (BILL CRANDALL)

Ben Davis Aided and Abetted (Lovitt)

His rock resume includes stints with Virginians Sleepytime Trio and technophile Chicago punks Milemarker, but Ben Davis seems to deliberately play against expectations on his second solo album. Like the dreamy piano-based opener "Departure Warning," Aided . . . is downbeat, melodic, layered with keys and vaguely singer-songwritery. Featuring sixteen musicians, drawn from bands such as Denali and Jennyanykind, it's as much a collaboration as a solo record, and in either mode it surprises. Davis sometimes sounds like a spookier, carnivalesque Elliott Smith, as on the synth-string-section-saddled "Blue-Hearted Sleeve." Harmonies and an overall light touch make "Old and Played" worthwhile, waltzy pop. And the dubby post-hardcore energy of "Underdawg" connects with Davis' punk past. Unfortunately, Aided . . . suffers from a typical indie flaw, burying intriguing lead vocals (his own and those of Aimee Argote of Des Ark) just when they're needed to distinguish these tunes as more than skilled instrumentals. (JOHN DUGAN)

ZZ Top Chrome, Smoke and BBQ Warner Bros.

In the Seventies, they figured out the grand gestures of arena rock. In the Eighties, they had all the right ideas about video when MTV flowered. So what if they mostly sang about sex, cars, beer, food and Texas? ZZ Top were true to their blues roots, and they made you feel good enough to party. The four-CD set Chrome, Smoke and BBQ naturally includes "Gimme All Your Lovin'," "Sharp Dressed Man" and "Legs" -- three perfect moments when riff, tone, visual image and the band's well-honed boogie combined in such a manner that they will never be improved upon. At least a dozen more great moments are preserved here on four discs containing no cuts less than pretty good. (CHARLES M. YOUNG)