Brad Paisley

Out there in Country Music Radio Land, Brad Paisley — that witty, fratty, country singer and hot-shit guitarist — has lately racked up four inescapable hits, songs that click hard every time. There’s “Ticks,” a horny classic about what he’d like to check the woman at the bar for when he gets her out in the woods. There’s “I’m Still a Guy,” an anti-metrosexual manifesto distinguished by clever couplets (Botox pairs up with tackle box) and a boozy band performance. There’s “Online,” a sharp swipe at Internet geeks, and there’s the maudlin “Letter to Me,” wherein Paisley — who’s as adept at waxing slick and sentimental as he is at shredding on his Tele — bucks up his sad, 17-year-old self with the news that he’ll grow up to be Brad Paisley. The songs are everything that’s good about modern country, with only a faint whiff of what’s bad. Live, he’s all band, with rock energy and Vegas showmanship.