Music nerds — and I happily count myself among them — are a different kind of hep cat. We flourish when debating minutiae, strut when proven right about who played bass on a particular track, and feel righteousness coursing through our veins like a holy-roller preacher when converting a nabob to the glories of power pop or outlaw country.

Thankfully, Brian Fairbanks is one of us. Even the title of his fun, fascinating Willie, Waylon, and the Boys contains a few nods and inside jokes for us nerds. For starters, he uses the term “boys” loosely and ironically, because while the outlaw country of the 1970s was almost completely a testosterone-fueled domain, today’s version features many talented women.

He also uses the title, and the book, to explore the exciting, sometimes complex relationship between the early gods of outlaw country: Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings. The title quotes from “Luckenbach, Texas (Back to the Basics of Love),” a 1977 duet in which each pointedly sings his name when it’s his turn at the mic. Waylon and Willie loved and respected each other like brothers, but they were also as competitive as siblings can be.

Fairbanks captures their respective career arcs in graceful, clear prose buttressed by his excellent research and unabashed love of the music. I especially enjoyed his section on Waylon’s friendship with the late, great Buddy Holly. I already knew the two played together and that Waylon had given up his seat on the fateful flight that took the lives of Holly, Ritchie Valens, and the Big Bopper in February 1959 — the day the music died, as chronicled by Don McLean in “American Pie.” But I had no idea how close Waylon and Holly were, or the depth of loss Waylon felt after his death.

Fairbanks makes a good case that Waylon found that same kind of kindred spirit in Willie. Still, the partnership was not without its tensions, especially as Willie’s star rose and Waylon’s began to fade. In the 1960s, Waylon had been something of the senior partner in the Outlaw Country Law Firm. But a decade on, Willie had achieved the crossover success he enjoys to this day, gracing the cover of Time magazine and becoming the darling of music critics from Los Angeles to New York City. Meanwhile, Waylon remained a respected but pigeonholed figure.

Sure, Waylon narrated — and sang the theme song to — the popular TV show “The Dukes of Hazzard,” but even that was decidedly rooted in country music. Willie, on the other hand, has done albums on which he croons, sings reggae, and otherwise busts genres left and right.

Fairbanks does a terrific job telling us the origin story of outlaw country, but he’s just as skilled when discussing its lasting impact on contemporary music and culture. The movement is alive and well today thanks to folks like Kacey Musgraves, Brittney Spencer, and Allison Russell. Even mega-star Taylor Swift has some outlaw-country cred via the very Waylon-Willie way in which she bucked her controlling record label and performs honest songs straight from her heart and on her own terms.

Music books like this one are a funny subspecies because the author’s personality factors heavily in the reading experience. In other words, you could read an outstanding history of, say, World War II and not necessarily want to hang with its author. But for a book about musicians — especially beloved ones like Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings — to be great, it’s kind of important to be able to imagine having a beer with the author and talking tunes. I’d be psyched to hoist a few beers with Brian Fairbanks anytime.

Michael Causey is the host of A Good Hour on WOWD 94.3 and takomaradio.org. While he respects Willie’s voice and songwriting skills, he’s decidedly Team Waylon.

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