Back Against the Wall is an outlaw-country record built on grit, scars, and resilience. It’s the story of holding on when the world tries to break you — of finding freedom in dirt roads, family, memory, and truth, even when the weight of survival presses hard.

The album opens with “Dirt Roads and Dogs”, a free-spirited escape into the country soul, before diving into the raw defiance of “Frankly, I Don’t Give a Damn.” Tracks like “Sunday Porchlight” and “The Sky Remembers” provide heart and reflection, anchoring the record in stories of grace and memory. “We Were Soldiers Too” serves as its haunting tribute, honoring sacrifice and courage with reverence.

The title track “Back Against the Wall” and “The Last Free Thinker” drive the album’s rebellious core, confronting modern struggles and the cost of survival with unflinching honesty. To balance the fire, “Pickin’ Trouble” delivers rowdy bluegrass energy, while “Let ’Em Be Kids” strips back the noise to remind us what’s worth protecting.

Together, these songs form a litany of truth: that even in chaos and collapse, there’s defiance, there’s love, and there’s still something worth standing for. Back Against the Wall is not just an album — it’s an outlaw hymnbook for hard times.

We Might Be Robots

Dirt Roads and Dogs

Reborn is an electrifying anthem of self-healing, transformation, and awakening. Blending playful, rap-like cadence with soaring, anthemic choruses, the track takes listeners on a journey through the dark night of the soul and into the light of renewal. It speaks to the illusions and masks of society, the weight of 3D reality, and the liberation of stepping into a higher vibration.

With lyrics that affirm empowerment — “I am the fire and the light, I am the healer, I am whole” — the song is both deeply personal and universally resonant. It’s about breaking chains, finding truth in silence, and rising “reborn through the flame.” Catchy, uplifting, and spiritually charged, Reborn is a healing mantra disguised as a pop-ready, high-energy anthem — a reminder that every one of us carries the power to rewrite our reality.

Reborn

On the Porch isn’t just a record, it’s a conversation. It’s the sound of old souls and weathered hands, of stories told long after midnight under a sky full of stars. It’s music played on borrowed instruments, with creaking floorboards for percussion and a rusted steel guitar crying in the background. It’s imperfect on purpose, because so is life.

This album is about the roads that shaped us, the ones we chose and the ones that chose us. It’s about scars that never quite fade and memories that refuse to leave. It’s about love that breaks us and saves us, wars fought far from home and battles fought deep within, about grief we carry and grace we try to find along the way.

This isn’t a polished studio album meant for neon lights and perfect mixes. It’s the sound of boots on a wooden porch, of a low, raspy voice telling the truth because there’s no reason to lie anymore. It’s a celebration of the beauty in imperfection and a reminder that some of life’s greatest songs are the ones played simply, honestly, and without apology.

So pull up a chair. Pour something strong. And sit with us a while because every note, every word, and every story here was meant to be shared on the porch.

Voodoo

Nothing but Trouble

To My Friends

“Pretty Like Me” is a neon dream confession wrapped in truth. It’s not about being perfect, polished, or posed — it’s about the beauty that rises when you stop trying to fit someone else’s reflection. In a world obsessed with faces and filters, this song is a mirror for the soul — a reminder that authenticity is its own kind of glow. It’s for anyone who’s ever felt not enough, until they realized they already were. “Pretty Like Me” isn’t what you see. It’s what you feel when you finally see yourself.

Pretty Like Me

Neon Angels is about finding your light  in a digital world that pulls us outward.  A reminder that even in the noise of the digital maze, your truth still shines. The song’s hypnotic pulse and shimmering sound blend reflection and revelation, showing that even when life feels blurry or broken, there’s still color, synchronicities and hope guiding us home. It’s about getting lost in the digital world and forgetting what’s real, until you finally break the spell, a call to unmute your voice and remember your light.

Neon Angels

Mateo means “gift of God,” and the song carries that truth in every note. It’s about the kind of love that feels destined — the moment when a familiar soul finds its way back to you, no matter the time or distance. Everyone has known that feeling, the quiet recognition, the pull you can’t explain, the sense that something greater is at work. “Mateo” moves through moonlight and memory, where love becomes a prayer and reunion feels like grace. It’s a song for anyone who’s ever believed that some hearts are written in the stars, a reminder that what’s meant for us will always find its way home.

Mateo

The Path to Hope is a record about motion — falling, fighting, and finding your way back to the light. Across nine tracks, it follows the transformation from self-doubt to self-definition; from silence to a roar.

It begins at the edge of uncertainty (Different, But Right), finds defiance in Shine Anyway and Tomorrow Ain’t Promised, claws toward strength in Halfway to Good, But Far from Done, and exhales in Paper Skies — a moment of grace and feminine resilience. Then the album rises again: Rise from the Ruins (Point Reyes) celebrates rebirth, Keep the Pulse drives forward with rhythm and conviction, and No Vacancy tears down walls with industrial fury. Finally, The Path to Hope closes it all — a raw, 90s-grunge-inspired anthem that embraces imperfection and peace as the true signs of being alive.

Sonically, the record merges piano-driven soul and alternative rock with touches of punk, grunge, and industrial grit. It’s emotional yet unpolished — a celebration of flawed beauty.
By the end, the message is clear: hope isn’t something you find. It’s something you build, one breath, one note, one moment at a time.

Different, but Right

We Might Be Robots

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