Lesson one from Dr. Milo: Don't fix what ain't broke. The Descendents' first LP in nearly eight years is exactly what they've done since 1978, only a tad slower: catchy two- and three-minute bursts of pop-punk. They invented this stuff, so they can do whatever they want with it. Unlike another doctoral-level punker and his slavishly overrated band -- that'd be Brett Gurewitz and Bad Religion -- Aukerman understands that a big vocabulary only impresses teenagers. And this album wasn't made with them in mind. Instead of delivering an SAT lesson, he gets funny: "And I go 'yadda-ya-yadda-ya,'" he melodically raps in the album-opener "Talking," "And you go 'yadda-ya-yadda-ya.' Yadda-ya-yadda-ya -- that's what we've gotta do . . . I'm out here alone/ Talking on the phone/Maybe we'll fall in love when I get home." Milo, you had us at "Yadda-ya."