Three Yorkshire brothers bash it up with their garage brand of Brit rock based on varied strains of punk and indie. So it goes. Course, you sometimes wish it weren’t so easy to tie it all up into a neat little story. Let the record speak for itself, though. Though the brothers Jarman of the Cribs beat their Sheffield neighbors the Arctic Monkeys to both the stage and record bins by a couple years, they’ve been somewhat caught beneath the shine of the Monkey’s incandescent ascendance. While it’s too bad that they are in that shadow, let the proof ultimately be in the Yorkshire pudding—and the Crib’s third record, Men’s Needs, Women’s Needs, Whatever, ultimately rates. The Cribs exhibit a brazenly tuneful vigor and candor direct from the prime era of the Jam, along with a down-to-earth charm and the unflinching straightforwardness of US indie stalwarts Beat Happening, who they cite as an influence. Listening to Men’s Needs, I’m convinced that the Cribs are one of the better bands to embody what punk rock should be in this millennium. They bleed more passion than the Strokes, and here they have written a record of anthemic songs about the travails of regular folk. In the studio with fan/friend Franz Ferdinand’s Alex Kapranos behind the board, the band has managed a crisp but just jagged enough collection of 12 songs that never let up. Ross Jarman’s explosive drumming ignites “Our Bovine Public.” “Men’s Needs” has Ryan Jarman’s spiraling guitar hook and vocal that jars from detached matter-of-fact to an impassioned howling chorus. Brother Ross’ bass work is the grooving center of “Moving Pictures” that makes it gloriously teeter on the edge an ass-shaking dancefloor bit. Sonic Youth’s Lee Ranaldo guests on “Be Safe.” All in all, a dazzling effort—the Cribs have realized a record of bright punk as it ought to be.

Cowboys love to go out with their boots on and so too was the story of a man called “Hoss.” Waylon Jennings didn’t just personify the rebel outlaw figure in country music, he essentially created him—making records far outside of the safe boundaries and expectations of staid Nashville circles in the early 1970s. Until his very end he was a rugged, ragged, irascible troubadour who lived like he sang: fearlessly. Recorded in January 2000 (Jennings passed two years later in 2002) at the fabled Ryman Auditorium, Waylon took the stage with his wife Jessi Colter, an 11-piece band and some special guests. Though he was crippled from his battle with diabetes, he sat like a badass with his leather-tooled Telecaster at his lap, swearing, spitting fire and playing his classics and a handful of favorites. Housed in multi-disc digipack Never Say Die: The Final Concert Film is deluxe set that collects Waylon’s final live show as both a two-disc live show—expanded from the album Never Say Die Live—and concert video DVD with a bevy of bonuses. This is the first time Waylon’s swan song appears in its full glory and it stands as a hell of a final testament to a hell of a singer and hellraiser.