Like your Americana on the rock tip? Songs that pound down the road like a “big black Cadillac underneath the Texas sun,” with no destination but the occasional truck stop. The sort that start out “Well, I woke up and I drank a fifth today.” An artist who’s developed a musical dichotomy of male aggression and emotion and who isn’t afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve. The troubadour some might even go as far as to label “country.”

Country? Like Kenny Chesney, Toby Keith and Garth, right?

Um, no.

The tunes in question take a shine closer to Wayne “The Train” Hancock, the Derailers and BR549 than those other goofballs banging out the “hits” in Nashville. The stories possess gritty substance and vivid imagery that Nashville’s run-of-the-mill template can’t hold a candle to.

The quartet turning the heads of critics and artists alike is a group of illegitimate offspring known collectively as the Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash.

Founder and singer for this Bastard battalion, Mark Stuart, openly admits to having shuddered at the idea of playing country music.

When he was younger, he would go to the library with his mother and she’d play old country albums for him. But when Stuart started performing live, it was with a West Coast blues outfit known as Nicotine Blues.

“We drank a lot of beer, took a lot of drugs, but left no major impact on the San Diego music scene,” Stuart nonchalantly notes.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that he opened up to other forms of musical expression.

Stuart admits to being unable to write anything but country then.

Those years in the library were finally showing fruition in the form of traditional country ballads and road songs.

Initially, Stuart didn’t even want to dabble into country music, and cringed when friends told him his voice was better suited for country and western. His rich, distinct baritone vocals easily warm over the most heartfelt ballad yet cut to the chase on a pounding, honky-tonk driver like “Interstate Cannonball.”

“What do they say? If you play a country song backwards, your truck is fixed, your wife comes back and your dog is brought back to life,” comments Stuart on the nature of contemporary Nashville tunes. “The themes are repetitive. It is really corny.”

Stuart says people don’t realize how hard it is to write and play a quality country song. The songs on “Walk Alone” were inspired by what Stuart calls “mental wishing” and the desire to travel.

Upon listening, it’s difficult to think these stories are for the most part “fictitious.”

“Well, I guess `Memphis Woman’ fits our drummer [Joey]; he’s been heartbroken over a woman lately,” Stuart laughingly jokes.

For the most part Stuart “sat down and started strumming and what came out, came out.” Sometimes it would be “deep and derivative” and other times not.

“The music was good enough and it wasn’t insulting,” notes Stuart.

Cash has since feverishly supported the California-based Bastards while son John Carter Cash stepped in to produce two new songs.

For a man who winced at the thought of strummin’ twang a few years ago, he’s sure doing a bang-up job impressing the folks that matter in country music.

“I hope to still be touring and writing a good country song,” Stuart remarks on the topic of longevity.

The one thing that may change with time is the name. Stuart says when Cash dies they’ll probably “put it away.”

Ladies and gentlemen, name or not (hopefully BSOJC for a while – stick in there Johnny), this is the future of country music.

Besides, once a Bastard, always a Bastard.