It’s gotten so bad that anything that sounds like real country music has been relegated to "alternative". According to Shawn "Swifty" Jonasson, the state of country music has been ill since the dawn of the ’80s.

Jonasson, when not playing guitar and singing in his band, drives a flatbed truck that has nothing but AM radio [note to his boss: he’ll take a CD player before air conditioning], and on an average day he’ll be satisfied by maybe two songs on CFCW.

"The rest is shit," he says with regret. "It’s frustrating because you think of the people who started country music, like Hank Williams and Ernest Tubbs, and they evolved into people like Willie Nelson and Johnny Cash.

And my music is most influenced by Buck Owens and ’70s country–it has an edge because it’s electrified. Waylon kicked ass in that era, and Johnny Cash."

So what the hell happened? Did Reaganomics kill country music?

"I think there were so many genres of music at that point that everything became intertwined," offers Swifty. "For example, Mutt Lange produced one of the AC/DC records, then Def Leppard, then Shania Twain. And it’s all kind of the same–it’s his sound. Country music today is just pop."

True, country music today needs a new title, "Shit Twang Pop" or something. But it’s what country fans get on mainstream TV and radio. And yet, when a crowd is exposed to authentic country sounds, as they were this summer when The Swiftys played in Jonasson’s hometown of Dauphin Manitoba for the Dauphin Country Music Festival, the response is good.

"I think a lot of honest country music fans are partial to music that sounds like country music," he says, "but people are only aware of what you give them. I mean, how do they know about [local country musicians playing the upcoming Anti-Country Country Week show at the Sidetrack] Darrek Anderson and The Guaranteed or The Swiftys or any of these bands?"

Not that he’s complaining that The Swiftys find a greater crowd response in more alternative, albeit less financially lucrative, venues. "I guess, the term Alt Country came from the fact that there’s no market in the country mainstream for people like us unless there’s money behind it.

You just keep working at it, but it’s more appreciated when you play places like the Black Dog".

Real country music has never been about the sleek and the wealthy. It’s for those with souls that yearn and who’s learning leads them straight to the Honky Tonk for some solace and some trouble.

And of course, at it’s heart, it’s by and for country people, and not "country" in the backwards sense.

It’s clear who Jonasson’s heroes are, and listening to The Swiftys self-titled album, you can hear all those influences in some capacity. Their sound is authentic country music–as Swifty defines it–"about hurtin’ and drinkin’ and cheatin’".

And it sounds, as my roommate describes it, "memorable and catchy and like they’ve been around forever; like they’re already part of the country music canon".

Jonasson, a small town boy, grew up listening to country music and everything else. He began his musical career as a jazz saxophonist, and committed himself to studying the be-bop greats.

However, he eventually realized that he needed to switch genres. "For me to be a jazz saxophone player, as involved as I got with that and as much as I loved it, it just wasn’t right.

All the guys that I like, Charlie Parker and those guys, were rebelling against white people in a sense, by playing be-bop. There was all kinds of swing music going on at the time and a lot of that was for the white people, so they rebelled and played stuff that no white people could play–there were a few that could, but no one could do it like Parker, Thelonius Monk or Dizzy Gilespie. They have the stamp on that.

I’m just the little boy from Dauphin, Manitoba that grew up working on a farm, so it’s appropriate for me to play country music. It feels right. It reminds me of my life".

That life right now involves touring as much as possible and struggling, in a province where housing prices are climbing, to raise a family. Appropriately, as all country outlaws, he doesn’t have much nice to say about The Man.

"I can’t complain because I expect nothing, but I know that Ralph Klein’s gotta go. I love it here; I love the people. But it’s getting to the point where I don’t know if I can survive here, to be honest with you. The house I live in here–which is a tiny shack–I could move to a place like Winnipeg and buy a house three or four times the size for the same amount".

The Swiftys have been spending more and more time on the road and the location of their home base matters less than it did before. As a case in point, the band’s bassist, Jody "Thump" Johnson, moved to Prince Albert, Saskatchewan in order to buy a house, yet manages to make it whenever and wherever the band has a gig. Johnson completes half of what Swifty calls "the best rhythm section around" with the second part of the equation rounded out by drummer Grant "Stovetop" Stovel, the man who can drive all night, weave a fine tale without hesitation, and who "has Zen wrapped around his finger".

Together, the band not only aims to create an authentic country sound, but also strives to reconnect with the roots of Country and Western music.

Swifty doesn’t deny he’s on a mission, explaining, "first and foremost I just do what I do, but there’s this underlying mission to bring the music back to what it is: not fuckin’ songs about your little baby or anything that’s just so sentimental like all this new country is–that strikes a chord with some people, but not me.

I have a mission just to be real and keep the music real. And try to just be a country band."

This process isn’t difficult when working with such solid players as those who comprise his band, and such refined guest musicians like keyboardist/pianist Graham Guest and John Gorham on bg vox, both of whom can be heard on The Swiftys recording. The songs address yearning and discontent, and the beauty and humanity found in such conditions. For example, the song "Dealin’ with the Deal" tells a story about an Albertan couple contending with a VLT addiction so bad that if their house burns down, the first place they’ll go is to the Rose Bowl Lounge.

There’s no denying The Swiftys ability to draw you in with the turn of a good phrase and really solid playing.

But we are our own worst critics. Is Swifty any different? Does he think the band has a good, honest chance?

"No," he answers without a smirk.

"I think we’ll make a mark and that’s all that matters to me. I don’t need any recognition as long as we get through to some people and if I can make a living I’m happy."