There’s something about Roy Dawson that shakes the dust out of the corners of this tired music industry. It’s not just the gravel in his voice or the fire in his guitar, it’s the way he keeps standing up after every hit and saying, “I’m not done. Not yet.”​​The man they can’t moldRoy Dawson’s story is too raw, too messy, and too

There’s a moment in music history—etched deep but rarely spoken—when you realize greatness isn’t always loud. It doesn’t always fill stadiums or flash across selfies in neon lights. Sometimes, it walks quietly among us, buying morning coffee, humming to the tune of its own scars. That’s Roy Dawson, and for the real music lovers, that na

September 20, 2025By Roy Dawson Earth Angel Master Magical healerSomebody out here isn't who they say they are.They smile in my face, wear my name on their lips like lipstick, but they don’t know who they are. They look in mirrors and see my face. They try to walk like me, talk like me. They’ve borrowed my voice and stitched it onto a throat th

IF THEY KNEW THEN WHAT THEY KNOW NOWThey laughed in the smoke and drank cold, cheap beer and wine. Slapped each other on the back. Thought it was over. Thought they’d won.It was the kind of laughter that’s loud because it hides fear. It always has.The three women were clever. Or they thought they were. Sharp tongues. Dull hearts. Witches, black

Some people never learn.They see what you have—what you bled for—and they think it should be theirs. Not because they earned it. Not because they woke before the sun or buried themselves in the work or carried the weight day after day. But because they want it. And in their minds, that’s enough.They weren’t there when your hands shook from