Standing backstage at Burl’s Creek, the air is thick with the scent of diesel, expensive light beer and the kind of high-velocity dust only a crowd of 40,000 country fans can kick up. It is Aug. 10, 2018, and the Boots and Hearts Music Festival is in full swing.
Jason and Tom Petric are leaning against a gear case, looking remarkably composed for two brothers from Manitoba who have spent the better part of the summer living out of a van. They operate under their surname, Petric, a moniker that carries a certain percussive weight. It sounds like a legacy brand, even if they are still technically the new kids on the Canadian country block.
But there is nothing amateur about their trajectory. The duo is currently riding the momentum of their latest record, *18 Ends*, an album that has managed to sharpen their radio appeal without sanding off the rougher edges of their prairie roots.
The industry likes to talk about "emerging talent" as if it is a polite waiting room. Petric is not waiting. They have already secured their highest-charting single to date with the title track of the new album. And they are doing it by leaning into a sound that feels less like a Nashville carbon copy and more like a deliberate, guitar-driven evolution.
Just last weekend, the brothers were in the 519 territory, tearing through a set at the Boot Hill Country Jamboree in Bothwell. That festival has a reputation for being a bit grittier, a bit more lived-in than the polished spectacle of Boots and Hearts. Seeing them transition from the muddy fields of Bothwell to the massive side stage in Oro-Medonte reveals a band that knows how to scale their energy.
And that energy is exactly what they need as they stare down the end of a gruelling summer tour. Once the festival lights dim, the plan is to retreat. They want to write. They want to find the next gear.
We sat down with the boys in the humid shade of the media tent to talk about how a song actually gets built when you are constantly moving. Jason leans in, his eyes sharp, clearly the one who keeps the business gears turning.
"Songwriting is a funny thing," Jason says. "You can go into a room with a plan and come out with something completely different."
That unpredictability is the lifeblood of *18 Ends*. The record does not feel over-engineered. It has a loose, almost improvisational quality in the transitions, even if the choruses are designed to hit the back row of a stadium.
"We’ve spent a lot of time in Nashville over the last year, just trying to soak up as much as we can," Jason says. "But at the end of the day, we still want it to sound like us."
The Nashville machine can often swallow Canadian acts whole, spitting out polished, anonymous pop-country. Petric seems to be resisting that gravity. They are taking the technical proficiency of Tennessee and applying it to the specific, often colder emotional colours of the Canadian prairies.
We're always writing. We're always trying to write. We're always trying to get together with other writers too, to get different perspectives.
Tom, who carries the lion’s share of the vocal duties with a range that feels both athletic and vulnerable, is more focused on the visceral connection. He is the one who has to sell these stories to a crowd that might be three sheets to the wind by 4:00 p.m.
"I think for us, the most important thing is that the song feels real," Tom says. "If we can’t relate to it, we can’t expect the audience to relate to it."
It is a simple philosophy, but one that is increasingly rare in an era of "track-writing" where six different people contribute a single line to a song about a truck they have never driven. When Tom sings about the finality of a relationship or the bittersweet nostalgia of a hometown, you believe he has actually walked those streets.
"18 Ends was a song that we knew was special the moment we finished it," Jason says. "It’s about those high school years, those moments where you’re just figuring out who you are."
The song works because it avoids the saccharine traps of most "growing up" anthems. It has a bite to it. The production on the track is crisp, highlighting a rhythmic urgency that sets them apart from the mid-tempo slog that defines much of the current CMT rotation.
"It’s different every time," Jason says, referring to their creative spark. "Sometimes it starts with a title, sometimes it starts with a guitar riff. We’ve been very lucky to work with some great songwriters in Nashville and here in Canada."
But even with the co-writes, the Petric DNA is undeniable. There is a sibling harmony at play here that you cannot manufacture in a studio. It is that psychic link where one brother knows exactly where the other is going to take a vocal run before he even opens his mouth.
"Playing these festivals like Boots and Hearts and Boot Hill, it’s where you really see if the songs are working," Tom says. "You see the people in the front row singing the words back to you, and that’s when you know you’ve done your job."
And they have been doing their job with remarkable consistency. The Bothwell set was a proof-of-concept. The crowd there is notoriously honest; if they don't like you, they will let you know by heading to the beer tent early. Petric kept them pinned to the stage.
"We’re looking forward to getting back into the studio after the summer is over," Tom says. "We’ve got a lot of ideas that have been bubbling up while we’ve been on the road."
Writing on the road is a nightmare for most. The lack of sleep, the constant noise and the recycled air of a tour bus do not exactly scream "creative sanctuary." Yet, the brothers seem to thrive on the friction.
The technical execution of their live show is another point of interest. Jason’s guitar work is understated but essential. He provides the foundational grit that allows Tom’s vocals to soar. They aren't relying on backing tracks to do the heavy lifting, which is a refreshing change of pace in the current touring theatre.
"We just want to keep building this," Jason says. "We’re not in a rush to be something we’re not. We just want to write better songs every time we sit down."
That patience is their secret weapon. In a world obsessed with viral moments, Petric is playing the long game. They are building a catalogue, not just a playlist.
As the sun begins to dip over the Burl’s Creek trees, casting long, orange shadows across the festival grounds, the brothers prepare to head back into the fray. There are more hands to shake and more stages to conquer.
The Manitoba boys have come a long way from Winnipeg, but they haven't lost the work ethic that comes with being from a place where the winters are long and the rewards are hard-earned.
"We’re just two brothers who love making music," Tom says. "As long as people are showing up to hear it, we’re going to keep showing up to play it."
And show up they have. From the dust of Bothwell to the bright lights of Oro-Medonte, Petric is proving that they aren't just an "up-and-coming" act. They are already here.
But don't expect them to get comfortable. They have already proven they can write a hit; now they are looking to write a classic. And based on the grit they showed this weekend, I wouldn't bet against them.
