Introducing Songs from the Back Porch, an album from the Back Porch Saints!
A husband-and-wife folk duo rooted in Kentucky soil and Florida sunsets.
Raised on hymns, 90s country radio, and front-porch storytelling, Back Porch Saints blend southern folk, blues-rock grit, and reflective songwriting. Their music lives somewhere between backroads and redemption — songs about faith, doubt, growing up, breaking down, and finding your way home again.
They don’t preach.
They don’t pretend.
They just tell it straight.
Trent Palmer
Lead Vocal / Acoustic Guitar
• Kentucky-born storyteller
• Slight rasp, warm baritone
• Anchor of the band
Mara Leigh Walker
Harmony Vocal / Rhythm Guitar
• Florida-raised soul
• Calm presence, emotional depth
• The emotional gravity
Old Timer “Cal” Turner
Slide / Electric Guitar
• Quiet, observant, wise, bearded gentleman
• Slide-heavy blues phrasing
• Plays a worn Telecaster or sunburst Les Paul
• Doesn’t talk much — lets the guitar speak
Jonah Reed
Drums / Percussion
• Laid-back, steady presence and always there!
• Brushes, rim clicks, organic groove
• Vintage Ludwig kit, muted heads
Luke Harlan
Keys / Organ / Digital Textures
• Slightly artistic
• Plays upright piano, organ, keys
• Adds warmth pads & subtle synth layers
More to come about the rest of the band members in the remaining songs of the album.
backporchsaints.com
The Aftermath
Lyrics:
He said, “Another late shift, babe,”
Left his ring on the sink by mistake.
She packed his lunch, kissed his face,
Watched the taillights fade down Maple Lane.
Three hours later, her phone buzzed twice,
“Need me to grab milk?” — little white lie.
But his jacket’s hanging on a motel chair
While he says, “I wasn’t there.”
No more screaming through closed doors,
No more keeping score,
No lies anymore,
Just the sound of what we lost
Settlin’ on the floor.
This is the aftermath,
When it all falls down.
Nobody to come home to,
How you feelin’ now?
In the aftermath…
In the aftermath…
Down the hall, second-story walk-up,
Said “I’ll be gaming, don’t wait up.”
Neighbor’s truck in the driveway late,
Caught red-handed — sealed our fate.
We were fire in a paper house,
Burned it down, then we drowned it out.
Smoke cleared but the room stayed cold,
Same old silence, same old words gettin’ old.
No more slamming bedroom doors,
No more “just this once.”
Truth don’t whisper anymore —
It crashes all at once.
This is the aftermath,
When it all falls down.
Nobody to come home to,
How you feelin’ now?
In the aftermath…
In the aftermath…
Two screens glow in two dark rooms,
Four hands shaking, still hiding the truth.
“I swear it meant nothing” —
But nothing left a bruise.
Funny how the lies got louder
with every use
This is the aftermath,
Where it all burns out.
Nobody left to blame now,
No one left to shout.
Just the echo of the past
And the vows we broke somehow.
This is the aftermath…
The aftermath....
Of what you did to me...
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