Crosseyed Cats

Call them a broken branch off the family tree, the Crosseyed Cats have a bloodline that runs from the Mississippi Delta through the London fog to the L.A. smog. The bastard sons of blues and rock 'n roll. Fathers like Muddy Waters, Keith Richards, Jimmy Page and Howlin’ Wolf. The blooze. . . a sound that’s new and old. Lou Reed once said that nothing beats two guitars, bass and drums. And nothing does. Classic ingredients with a splash of piano and a dose of harmonica. Music that punctures the skin and won’t let go. Music with teeth. Music that sinks in. Sounds that are raw and jagged. Songs that make you feel and remember. . .like a runaway train almost off the tracks. . .a tube amp near meltdown. . .electricity in the air. Words that burn. . .about life, and love, and loss. No poses, no costume changes, no samples. Music in its purest form with the edges rough, the changes loose and the amps up loud. With roots that run deep in the family tradition. . . The Crosseyed Cats carry the torch and do their daddies proud.