Superlative: Best expelled schoolboy look

Band most likely to: Inspire stormy breakups, make it onto early-relationship mix tapes, and get American Apparel underwear thrown at them during a rock-the-vote concert

Last seen: Setting up a generator show in the parking lot

Quote: "I know we're lost, but there's no destination."

In a world – or at least a city – of costume bands, nightmare-streaked new wave, and sweaty, naked, sexually assaultive backup dancers, the rock 'n' roll trio known as Tartufi stand up for certain classic traditions, like verse-chorus-verse, infectious melodies, comprehensible lyrics that aren't afraid to stomp on your heart a bit, and the kind of anthemic songs that make a girl want to start a band, leave town on a long road trip, or find someone to make out with outside the club; the kind it would be wrong not to accompany on vocals when alone in one's boudoir.

The original lineup – Lynne Angel, Simone Grudzen, and Pam Jost – surfaced sometime in 2002, at which time Tartufi were polling quite high in the category of cutest dyke band in San Francisco. The first show I attended was something of a sweaty, hormonal free-for-all, complete with screaming fans and girls swapping spit in the front row. It was hard to think of what more to ask for, except maybe a slightly higher-quality recording than their first, self-titled, self-released EP, made during a show at Stanford's KZSU, 90.1 FM, and some work on the live vocals – with Grudzen and Angel switching off leads and trailing behind one another in counterpoint, they achieve a messy, soaring, thrown-together harmony that's like a power surge during moments of greatness but occasionally jars as the volumes rise.

Then drummer Jost left the country, and the game of "who gets to drum with Tartufi this week?" began, with contestants such as Julianna Bright from the Quails filling in at a string of shows and Elephone's Gavin Haag playing on this summer's second EP, the swoony, over-far-too-soon Westward Onward (on their own label, Thread).

Westward, which was tracked, mixed, and mastered by the Fucking Champs' Tim Green at Louder Studios, is a giant hyperspeed leap forward on the recording front. What's more, it offers serious hope for the future of angsty, heartachey, unabashedly romantic rock songs – solace in a world where Hallmark bafflingly continues to turn a profit and most rockers not proselytizing for Christ remain unwilling to discuss their feelings, perhaps frightened by what happened to Metallica. Grudzen and Angel, who share songwriting responsibilities, aren't afraid, and it ends up sounding all right after all, as long as you don't mind tuneful meltdowns, secret messages that catch in your throat though you don't know the parties involved, the occasional bittersweet love note, and one track that's so good it hurts to know it's about to come to an end.

Such songs, I keep thinking, would be "radio ready" if that term were more frequently used to describe something pleasurable to listen to. And come to think of it, if bands like Tartufi were on the radio more often, I might actually turn it on every once in a while. Oh well. Now that the band have officially taken on drummer Brian Gorman, who also plays in the charmingly named Boneless Children Foundation, the trio can settle down to the important business of immediately writing and recording more such tracks. Which is pretty much the plan, according to Grudzen, who says they're headed back to Louder and Green this winter and plan on releasing their first full-length in February. Perhaps something on it will even manage to wean me off Westward's "Distractions," the crack cocaine of my admittedly sedate life, so I can stop compulsively playing it upward of 50 times a week. For now I'll just put Westward Onward on repeat and wait for the next show. (Lynn Rapoport)

For more information on Tartufi, including upcoming shows, go to www.tartufirock.net.