by Asher Baker

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Stories 03:09
It’s gotta’ be more than just a must That our purpose in this life is to adjust, Every time you hit a wall, bad luck, The seas get rougher, and then we stutter. Maybe it’s something more than fate, Going out on the town, and we can’t see straight, Laugh out loud when we make mistakes Under covers, or in the gutters. Where’s this song gonna’ take us? Where we gonna’ go today? What stories await us When we step right off the train? ‘Cause folk like us need open spaces, The blue skies and the rain, Then when we wake up, hungover, We’ll do it all again, We’ll be okay. We’ll go down the slow lane, And make the journey last a while longer. We can take the stop train, And tell our stories all night and day. We’ll sing our blues away. Sometimes, it’s a better choice to pretend That your life means more when you’re out with friends, Though not all of us will reach the end, We came from nothing, we’ll leave with nothing. Maybe we could call these nights a joke, Drinking rum in a park, ‘cause we’re always broke, Camberwell, to Alton, to Basingstoke, It isn’t something, it isn’t nothing. So, we’ll go on singing Every word, of every line, Until the music stops, our mouths run dry And our hearts beat out of time, Folk like us can’t work in silence, Compliance, or control, We’ll go on burning signal fires As we metre out our souls, The flame burns slow. We’ll go down the slow lane, And make the journey last a while longer. We can take the stop train, And tell our stories all night and day. We’re far from the top, but We can stop ourselves from going under, So raise them if you’ve got them, And we could sing our blues away. We’ll sing our blues away.
I once heard a short account That "when it rains, it floods," But it took at least two hundred years To stop the rush of blood And even now, they march the streets, They claim to keep the peace Racists, protected by police: Will Stockwell moments ever cease? The firebombs keep coming, And they'll keep coming still Every time that news reporters claim That British blood was spilled, And like native, sovereign terrorists We fight until we're killed But nothing's well under the sun. My ancestors ran away from their plantations As their ill-remembered masters angered up the blood, and wrote: "Freedom wears a cap without a tongue." We still fight battles With our drums and our guitars We shout out every fucking note. Until we choke, convictions lodged in our throats. There are obviously problems When we're so fucking embattled That making your way through life's a hassle Even when the chains you rattle are slack, You're still shackled With mind-forg'd manacles Daily Mail down palace walls Submissive - but with modern tools. And you can shoot a nigger dead, copper Proper easy mark, And then condemn the racial tension When you lit the fucking spark And like a man jumping a barrier Means police can jump the shark Nothing's well under the sun.


Stories is the first single from my forthcoming debut album, The Way Back.

The song is about missing the last trains back home after gigs in far away towns, sneaking into bed and breakfast hotels, street drinking, and growing up with your best friends. Because it's not about the destination, it's about the journey there.

The B side is Battles, a spoken word demo highlighting the scores of problems faced by ethnic minorities at the hands of authority figures, racist groups, and the mass media.

Recorded over several months in Cambridgeshire, UK, and featuring loads of highly talented comrades, Stories is a perfect example of what to expect from The Way Back when it is released very, very soon.


released April 22, 2016

Asher Baker - Vocals, Lyrics, Guitar
James Routh - Guitar, Bass Guitar
Luke Hesketh - Drums
Rosaleen Morshead - Viola, Piano
David Bird - Backing Vocals
Kelsey Beth-Crossley - Backing Vocals
Jemma Rodgers - Backing Vocals
Stuart Lawrence - Backing Vocals

Asher Baker - Vocals, Lyrics


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Asher Baker London, UK

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