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Despite Nashville’s best efforts at eviscerating country music of its heart and soul, real country can still be found.

You won’t hear them on commercial radio, but for years now Honky-tonkers and twang-bangers across the country have been digging into the music’s roots and turning out authentic, hard-country albums full of attitude, rebellious humor, and down-home licks that are being gobbled up by a small but loyal audience that knows good country from bad.

Sean Tracey, a Juneau-based guitarist and harmonica player, has joined the ranks of country singers you should be listening to with his first solo release, “Trouble.” Tracey, a longtime member of Southeast Alaska’s Panhandle Crabgrass Revival Band, has gathered up a bunch of his pals and delivered a baker’s dozen worth of foot-stomping, hell-raising, pure country tunes about all the important things (“Smokin’ Drinkin’ Cheatin’ Dyin’,” as the title of one track aptly puts it) that will restore your faith in the idea of country music as the sound of white folks laughing as their lives go down the tubes.

Tracey is playing a rootsy style of country here. Most of the instrumentation is acoustic, but the arrangements aren’t really bluegrass.

And while there’s enough pedal steel and electric guitar here to keep you tipping your schooner, there’s never a slick moment. This is akin to the sound that Hank Williams III has been exploring; 1950s-style stripped-down country infused with a punk rocker’s attitude.

Tracey writes very funny lyrics, particularly on “Trouble, Too,” and the standout track, “Everything Was Cool” (“everything was cool until I bought her a gun”).

The band plays well throughout. A couple of instrumentals (including a harmonica solo from Tracey) are just long enough to impress listeners, but they’re over before the danger of self-indulgence sets in. It’s short but not sweet and there isn’t a hint of studio polish. This is the way country was made before Nashville wrecked it, and you owe it to yourself to give it a listen.

Sean Tracey will be playing at the Boatel this Sunday at 5 p.m., backed by several friends, including members of the Foghorn String Band. It’s appropriate. This music should never be heard in a smoke-free yuppie bar.