THESE ARE THE kinds of things I think about while leaning back in my chair on a rainy Wednesday afternoon: an itchy Trent Reznor butting up against a breathy Tal Bachman; Pearl Jam trying to be meaningful in the same magazine as Korn; how it doesn't have to be hard to be rock; and how it doesn't have to be serious to be indie. Thank God for that.

Mostly this afternoon, I'm thinking about Les Savy Fav. Particularly, about how I can't remember a thing about them outside of the fact that they put on a great live show at the Breakroom a while back, and that the drummer from Girls Against Boys once told me they were his favorite band. He wore a Les Savy Fav T-shirt. It was yellow, and it was tight.

It's frustrating, this inability to recall even a second of what the band sounds like. The only thing I can remember is what Les Savy Fav felt like. They were sassy and funny and sexy. They were cockeyed and a little damaged, but like many chipped treasures, more compelling because of it. I remember feeling surprised at how something so mischievously good had sneaked in the back way instead of strutting in on a crimson carpet of indie press yammering about how smart it was. I felt revived in that way that only seeing something from the beginning gives you. It's like love, only with someone new whom you've known forever.

Here are the facts: Les Savy Fav are a quintet from Brooklyn; they like to play their guitars in ways that create heavily inked question marks above the heads of those really paying attention; and clearly, they have the devil's grin in their eyes. They have an album coming out November 16 called The Cat and the Cobra, on French Kiss Records. The rest I couldn't tell you, unless you want me to lie, and I think a preview as honest as this pretty much proves I'm not going to do that. If you want more info, you'll have to go to the show like I did, and then tell me how you've been saved.