The Men can't figure out why so many people have imposed that "post-punk/rock savior" bullshit tag on them. They're just a band, they insist; they didn't realize that a name as authoritative as the Men makes a band look, well, definitive and self-important. Especially one as hard-hitting as this one. They probably picked the name in order to project as bland an image as possible and let the music speak for itself — oops! If you believe their album titles are sly attempts to subvert the Ramones (2011's Leave Home now belongs to horror drones) and Madonna (last year's Open Your Heart now encompasses New York Dolls, Sonic Youth, and the Replacements), they now sound even more like big-shot revisionists. New Moon is their most purposeful beast yet. You can't just stumble into country-rock, you have to know your shit to make pretty guitar/bass/drum music without the benefit of laptopped texture. Their homage-rock has amazingly yet to cough up something resembling a memorable chorus you can sing. You remember their dimly recorded noise for the signposts, the genre shell games, the energy. The band's best song ever is New Moon's track two, "Half Angel Half Light," a bracing punk tune with the prettiest acoustic guitar break you'll hear all year. Less eclectic here than on Open Your Heart, the Men jam less and flirt with being more straightforward on the one-two slam of "The Brass" and single "Electric," and on the harmonica-soaked explosion of "Without a Face." Piece by piece they're building a canon of meaningful rock and roll in the 2010s without, say, Hüsker Dü's songwriting gifts. But by releasing one record each year that evolves from its predecessor, they're getting closer and closer.