Staring at a grainy Zoom window in the middle of a global shutdown isn’t exactly the rock-and-roll dream. But for Mike Ure and Aidan Johnson-Bujold, the duo behind the high-velocity country outfit Buck Twenty, the digital barrier does little to dampen a charm that has already conquered festival stages and local honky-tonks alike. We are sitting down to talk shop, but first, we have to settle the score on Star Wars memorabilia.
Aidan brandishes a Darth Vader lightsaber with the pride of a Jedi Master, while Mike counters with a Harry Potter wand. I shut the whole thing down by producing a Han Solo blaster. It is the kind of chaotic, unpretentious energy that defines their brand. They are the nice guys of the Canadian country circuit, but don’t let the smiles fool you. There is a calculated grit to their hustle.
The Windsor-Essex duo has been a fixture on the scene for years, moving from small-town bars to the national stage with a speed that mirrors their namesake. They have hit the Canadian Country Music Week circuit and played the telethons. And yet, there is a sense that they are just getting started, even if the world currently feels like it is on pause.
The conversation naturally drifts to their origin story, a narrative Mike usually steers. It is a classic tale of two musicians operating in the same orbit without ever colliding.
"Aiden and I actually, without even really knowing, lived 15 minutes apart from one another — and we used to each do some work with a friend of ours in his home studio," Mike says. "I would do some recording and Aiden would come in and actually play guitar on some of the tracks, but we had never actually met."
It took a high-stakes competition to finally put them in the same room. The prize was a slot opening for American artist Tyler Ward at a sold-out Sound Academy in Toronto. It was a popularity contest driven by votes, and the stakes were high enough to create some friction.
"So, there was this competition to get to open for Tyler Ward at a sold-out show in Toronto at The Sound Academy," Mike continues. "It was a voting-based thing and Aiden entered it with his brothers and I entered just by myself. As the competition went on, Aiden lost . . ."
Aidan tries to interject, sensing the impending jab. But Mike isn't finished. "Hey, this is my time, I have the talking stick . . . you’ll get your turn. Anyway, I had asked Aiden that if I continued on and he didn’t — and since he knew all the tracks — if he would want to play guitar with me. So, when I won, I stayed true to my word and he came out that was the first show we ever played together."
Aidan finally gets his rebuttal, though he doesn't deny the outcome. "I just don’t want people to think you’re a jerk, because you asked me before the results were even in — and I thought, there’s no way this guy is going to win. But he did. Go figure."
That Toronto show was the catalyst. Most bands spend years in garages before finding a groove, but these two found it in a hotel room after their first big gig. It was a realization that the chemistry was too good to ignore.
"We were back in the hotel room after that show and I remember having a discussion of, are we a band now? What do we call ourselves?" Mike says. "I remember having that actual conversation. After that, we started booking shows. Honestly, it all just kind of happened."
Aidan nods in agreement, acknowledging the organic nature of their partnership. "Mike is exactly right. It just kind of became, and that was it."
But a band needs a name, and the road to "Buck Twenty" was paved with some truly terrible ideas. The transition from The Mike Ure Band to a true duo required a rebranding that reflected their equal footing.
"We had a meeting in Kitchener with someone who wanted to be our manager at the time, and we were going by The Mike Ure Band, and the gentleman had suggested we change our name," Aidan says. "It had gone from Mike playing on stage with background musicians to something a lot more equal, so we thought we would play on that because it wasn’t just about one person anymore. On our way home from Kitchener we started to contemplate names and Mike says hey what about Buck Twenty? I said, no, that was stupid."
Mike laughs at the memory of the three-month stalemate that followed. "He really did. So, 40 terrible names later and three months go by . . ."
"And we needed to pick something, so I said, hey, what about Buck Twenty?" Aidan says, reclaiming the idea as his own. "Mike says he came up with that already, and I said no, I don’t think so. The name actually came from the fact we were going 120 km/h down the highway at the time."
The admission of minor traffic violations brings a smirk to Mike’s face. "Should we really tell people we were speeding?"
On our way home from Kitchener we started to contemplate names and Mike says hey what about Buck Twenty? I said, no, that was stupid. ... And we needed to pick something, so I said, hey, what about Buck Twenty? Mike says he came up with that already, and I said no, I don’t think so. The name actually came from the fact we were going 120 km/h down the highway at the time.
"Why not? We’re rebels!" Aidan quips.
The list of rejected names provides a glimpse into the identity crisis every young band faces. Before settling on their high-speed moniker, they flirted with titles that lacked the same punch.
"We could’ve been New Acres, which I thought sounded like a retirement home," Mike says. Aidan adds that County Lines was on the table, along with a particularly regrettable choice. "Falling for August," Mike says. "We came up with that one when we were at the cabin and had a couple drinks and just tried to come up with names. Then we woke up the next morning, looked at the paper with the name on it and hated it."
In the end, the speed-inspired name stuck. "I think in the end, Buck Twenty was just meant to be," Aidan says.
Their musical pedigrees are as different as their personalities. Aidan is the product of a structured, musical household where harmony was a dinner table requirement.
"I come from a family of six," Aidan says. "I have three brothers and my Mom and Dad both sing. My dad played in a country band when he was growing up in a small town and my mom was a musical theatre graduate, as well. Plus, we grew up in the church, which is how I think a lot of people start and our family of six was in choir for a long time. I remember just sitting at the kitchen table and my dad teaching me harmonies, something that doesn’t always come so naturally to a lot of people. I took lessons growing up, piano and guitar. I picked up guitar because, if I’m being honest, I wanted to impress girls at the time. It didn’t work, but you know, that was the intention. I could kind of sing, and I could play guitar and then it just fit naturally, so I went to school for music. Later on, I studied performance jazz guitar at the University of Windsor and after I graduated, I wanted to become a teacher. Music kept getting more serious after outside of school with Buck Twenty so right now I just keep pursuing my dreams."
Mike’s path was less linear. There was no family choir or jazz guitar degree. Instead, there was a rural upbringing and a late-blooming obsession with the radio.
"My story is very different," Mike says. "Like Aiden said, he grew up in a musical family — in my family, nobody sang, and nobody played any instruments. I just really fell in love with country music at my parents’ store where I worked. I waited tables, I chopped wood, and scooped ice cream, and there was always music playing in the background. Really, that was my first dose of listening to music and I just fell in love with the lyrics and the music and I just wanted to learn play guitar. So, I picked it up in high school and I was a little bit of a late bloomer when I started playing and shortly after that I started singing. When I went to university, I went for nursing, but I was at the University of Windsor, as well. I got my Bachelor of Science in nursing, and during that time music was just starting to become serious. It was my second or third year of university when that competition happened, and that’s when Aiden and I really got together and started pursuing it. I did finish my schooling but music just kind of became No. 1. So that’s how I got into it and it was Keith Urban’s Days Go By that made me want to pick a guitar and start playing music. I owe a lot to that one song."
The duo’s rise has been marked by significant milestones, specifically at Caesars Windsor and the Hogs for Hospice event in Leamington. These weren't just gigs; they were validations of their local dominance.
"That’s tough, but I’m going to say my favorite show, because it’s the stage that I had always wanted to play, was the Coliseum at Caesar’s Windsor opening for Justin Moore, which was a hometown show with 4,500 people," Aidan says. "That was one of my favourite shows I’ve ever played."
Mike points to a different local triumph. "That was a great show! And my favourite show was actually a local show too, when we got to play for Randy Houser at Hogs for Hospice. A lot of people came out and I think after that one, things really started to go up with engagement on our socials and stuff. It was a great crowd and it was a great time."
Aidan reflects on the shift in public perception following those performances. "You’re right, that was a really cool moment. At the end of that show in particular, I had noticed people started taking what we did more seriously and there was a lot of validation in that."
That validation has translated into a rabid fan base that treats the duo less like celebrities and more like neighbours. It is a dynamic they cherish, especially in an era where TikTok trends can make or break an artist.
"I think the way that I see it, I think that Mike sees it the same way," Aidan says. "I don’t like the word fan because it doesn’t feel like that. To us, we think of everybody like our friends we’ve been lucky enough to make playing music. It’s all these people that we would have never gotten the chance to interact with before and music brought us together. That’s an amazing feeling."
"I agree," Mike adds. "And even from the beginning we’ve had so much support its crazy. It really is out of this world."
The songwriting process remains the backbone of their operation. Despite the pandemic, they have kept the creative engine running through digital means and trips to the genre's epicentre.
"We’ve always done, and still do a lot of Skype writes, which is really cool — writing with your friends both locally and really from anywhere," Mike says. "We would take trips down to Nashville where we would go for a week or a few days here and there. We really do want to do a lot more writing and it’s something we’re getting better at each time we do it. It’s a craft, so everyone we get a chance to write with brings a different experience and just makes us stronger."
For Aidan, the shift from writing "fun" songs to meaningful narratives has been a natural evolution of his artistic maturity.
"Writing is such a unique art form, and it goes hand in hand with being an artist, but it’s almost therapeutic as well," Aidan says. "It’s a craft, and it takes so long to perfect. With some people it takes their entire lives. For me personally, the process has been so important, especially during the hard times of my life. When I was younger, songwriting was just about writing words that were fun and sounded nice together — but then when you get older and you’ve been through some things, you want to be able to connect with somebody with those shared experiences. That’s what’s the most important thing for me."
Mike finds the ultimate reward in the audience's reaction. "Aiden said it perfectly. When you’re putting something that was in your head or something you’re feeling onto paper and into a song that people relate to it — that’s the best feeling. Also, getting the chance to hear people singing along to your songs lets you know something you’ve written has had an effect. It’s really incredible music can do that."
The timing of their latest single, All I Can Do, was both a blessing and a curse. Released just as the world shuttered in March 2020, the track missed out on the traditional promotional machine.
"We put out the song at the end of March, and literally the next day they told everyone to stay inside," Aidan says.
Mike doesn't hide the frustration of the situation. "It’s definitely been different, we’ve been working on this for four years since we’ve had new music and then we finally put something out and the world shuts down. We can’t do the radio tours in the traditional way and we certainly can’t hit the road to play the song live and really promote. We’re definitely going to do something with All I Can Do when the time comes, but just having it out there and having people listen to it and seeing the streaming numbers grow is a win for us at the end of the day. too. When things are back to normal, we’ll be out there promoting and having a great time doing it."
In the meantime, they are balancing the music with their day jobs. Mike is on the front lines of the pandemic as a nurse, a role that offers a grounded perspective most musicians lack.
"Being a nurse in a pandemic makes things pretty busy, so, I’ve been working quite a bit," Mike says. "Working in home care and doing music, it’s really the best of both worlds. I work at Bayshore Home Health, so shout out to all my fellow nurses!"
Aidan is keeping busy with education and keeping the band’s technical assets ready for a return to the stage. "I do online teaching from 2 p.m. to almost nine o’clock every day," Aidan says. "So that’s what I’ve been doing and any spare time I get I go fishing, but there’s not a lot of spare time to be honest."
Mike adds that the downtime isn't entirely wasted. "Aiden been working on our demos too — all the songs we’ve written as we’re going through them and he’s demoing them up and we have a nice catalogue going."
As we wrap up, the focus shifts to the light at the end of the tunnel. For two guys built for the stage, the isolation is a temporary hurdle before the inevitable return to the roar of the crowd.
"Oh, play a show or go to a show would be at the top, you’re so right," Aidan says. "I think I would love to play a show and then I would love to be able to go to a concert and see a show — I don’t even know if I could come up with something more important than that."
Mike’s wishes are a bit more domestic, but no less urgent. "Definitely career-wise, I want to go out and play a show. The other thing sounds so simple, but just to go to a restaurant and actually sit down for dinner instead of having it to go or even on a patio. My girlfriend and I love going out to eat and that would just be a bit of normalcy for us. We can’t wait.
