I listen to country music. A lot of it.  I’m a sucker for a sad country song.  Tell me a compelling story and I’m yours forever. Sometimes it really is that easy. It’s why I listen to country music.

Sweden is not known for country music.  People the world over know about Swedish metal. They know about easily digestible Swedish pop. They know about ABBA. And Ace of Base.  They do not know about country music.  Several years ago, while still living in Stockholm I went to see Alan Jackson in the middle of Eskilstuna.  A town of about 60,000 people. I was surprised (pleasantly) by the number of people at the concert. Even more so by the people who were singing along.

Just a few months later I was convinced by a good friend to go to a show at Debaser Slussen, a bar/live music venue smack dab in the middle of Slussen. And by convinced I mean, I said yes immediately.  I told you I was a sucker for a sad country song, right?

What made this different though was not that I was seeing a country act in Sweden, it was that I was seeing a Swedish country act in Sweden: the Willy Clay Band.

It was one of the more memorable nights in Sweden for me. I had never seen such a high concentration of flannel in one place in Sweden (except for the hipsters from Söder).  I had never seen so much line dancing (and of course by so much I mean any. At all.).  I had never even heard of Swedish country music.

Now when I say Swedish country music, I should clarify. The band originates from Kiruna. Way up north. Seriously. Way up north.  They are very much Swedish, but they sing in English.  And it is glorious. Like any good country act, they’ve got the requisite love song, the requisite sad song, the requisite song about home.

For those of you interested (and with a rousing endorsement like the one above, how can you not be?) you’ll find the song about home, titled The Miner below: