The problem is that Boyd is often better at thinking than communicating. Incubus sounded fairly focused on its 2004 album "A Crow Left of the Murder" (Epic/Immortal), possibly because Boyd was then newly enraged by the war in Iraq. But on the latest Incubus disc, "Light Grenades," Boyd is back to grappling with personal and rather nebulous concerns like ego, confidence and fate.

The music seems fuzzy, too -- loud but somehow low-key, noisy but not arresting. The group played eight of the 13 songs on "Light Grenades," beginning with the woozy "Quicksand" and the harder-hitting "A Kiss To Send Us Off." Later came a song about an imaginary girl, "Anna Molly.

" (It's like "anomaly," get it?) The new track "Dig" combined a pensive melody with navel-gazing lyrics: "We all have something that digs at us/At least we dig each other." Partway through the murky jam session "Sick Sad Little World," Boyd pulled on a pair of light-bulb-covered gloves and began rippling his fingers mystically, as though he were on a strong hallucinogen and/or attending one of the past decade's raves.

It was a strangely hokey gimmick, but as Boyd traced patterns in the air, he obviously felt he was expressing something. What, exactly, remained unclear. Hammond, whose solo album "Yours To Keep" (Rough Trade) comes out in March, played the kind of curlicue guitar lines and bittersweet chords that help define his other band, The Strokes.

His voice was appealingly sincere, but like Boyd he couldn't coax his words into conveying a proper meaning. Instead, he stacked them up like rhyming Legos: "Your laughter," he sang on the jaunty tune "Holiday," "takes me from disaster / To tears / All washed away / On Holiday." By the end of his short, half-hour set, it seemed best to enjoy the melodies and worry about the lyrics later.

IINCUBUS. Hard rock and fine pop. With Albert Hammong Jr.

Wednesday at Hammerstein Ballroom. Manhattan.