There’s really no stopping the process now: the Followill boys are rock stars and, finally, unashamed to act the parts. They deserve it, too, with Nathan’s jazzy-ish arena-ready drumming, their perfectly concocted Strokes-vs-Creedence guitar sound and Caleb’s voice, which, here, sounds less weary than in albums past. In fact, he sounds happily resigned to a life of having roadies hand out backstage passes to the hottest chicks in the audience — gone are the “Sex on Fire” days of worrying about people watching and talking, now replaced with the sentiment “I can f—k or I can fight” on the tellingly Ramones-like “Don’t Matter” (that one and “Supersoaker” could have been written by Iggy Pop, really). In “Beautiful War” we find Caleb doing his best Joe Cocker, which is cool in its way, as is most of the rest of this appropriately glossy, unabashed outing (“Wait for Me” is stunning; “Family Tree” evokes a hard-rock reboot of Tommy James’s “Draggin the Line”). Concertgoers do need excuses to go grab drinks, of course, and for that you’ll be thankful for “Temple,” a phoned-in Springsteen-gone-cowboy rocker that delivers zippo.