Each year, a couple of infectious songs shower three-minute bursts of pop delirium over the globe.

This year, Third Eye Blind's “Semi-Charmed Life” - you know, the one with that insanely chirpy “doot-doot-doot” chorus - is that kind of song.

That's a good thing. In a world of countless tastes and viewpoints, such nonsense lyrics are a kind of Esperanto.

Unfortunately, San Francisco's Third Eye Blind isn't playing fair. Pure pop bliss is supposed to come from kids who don't shave yet. That's why they call it bubble gum.

But the punk-and-indie veterans of Third Eye Blind are all accomplished, happily corrupted musicians. Innoculously tuneful, “Semi-Charmed Life” is actually a song about snorting crystal meth and defiling a woman.

On Wednesday night, they played a sold-out headlining gig at the Fillmore; Glitter Mini 9 and JoJo opened. It was a triumphant return for Third Eye Blind amid the coveted engagements with U2 and the Rolling Stones.

Over the familiar slicing chords of the group's hit, lead singer Stephan Jenkins taunted his giddy, all-ages audience. “You're all a bunch of dirty little perverts,” he said, wagging a finger.

There is something seedy about Third Eye Blind's success, and that's probably just the way Jenkins would have it. Born to be a rock star, he wants it all- teenybopper adulation and respect from the cognoscenti who've read their Bukowski.

Unlike most Jiffy-pop phenomena, Third Eye Blind has plenty of strong songs on its self-titled debut. The band played them all on Wednesday- the wistful “Losing A Whole Year,” the Jane's Addiction-like assault of “Graduate,” the gang vocals of “London.”

There's no denying that the front man has charisma. During the show this self-styled hunk of burning love strode the stage, waving his arms, hip-hop style. He threw tambourines to the crowd. For one sensitive passage he sat on a riser in the lotus position.

And as musicians, these guys admittedly have something to crow about. Guitarist Kevin Cadogan call's U2's The Edge a big influence, and his supersonic textures and unusual not clusters were often a heady combination. Drummer Brad Hargreaves and pigtailed bassist Arion Salazar shook the old hall with their enormous rhythms.

Jenkins, too is a good musician. After a 12-song set, he came back for a solo encore, strumming a lovely accoustic version of “I Want You.” And on the band's final song, the surprisingly remorseful “God Of Wine,” he actually seemed sincere.

But Jenkins and crew have an arrogance that outweighs their talent. Sandwiched in the encore, the band intentionally massacred the fragile Smiths song “Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want.”

They'll get what they want, all right: They'll just take it.