Grit, Ghosts, and Blues Swagger

Nobody agrees on where this started.

Maybe the Delta. Maybe a bar that doesn’t exist anymore.

All I know is… the songs showed up first.

I'm Tom.

Didn’t plan on any of this.

Just kept following the noise—through cheap stages and bad decisions.

Somewhere along the way, it started calling itself

Keith and the Cockroaches.

Didn’t argue.

Stories scratched into motel walls and blown through broken speakers.

Murder ballads.

Backroom brawls.

Love gone wrong.

It lives somewhere between a bar fight and a confession.

Blues dragged through gravel.

Punk with a past it won’t talk about.

Tradition?

Buried behind the bar.

Some of the songs have names.

Some should’ve stayed buried.

There’s more coming.

Still in the studio.

Still chasing it.

Not entirely sure how this ends.