By Mike Baker
This album wasn’t written to chase a sound. It was written to chase connection, something I think all of us are quietly desperate for.
Every track on Too Much Noise comes from real moments, mine, my family’s, my friends’. Some I lived directly. Others I watched from the outside, wishing I could carry the weight for someone else. This record holds the things we usually don’t say out loud: Disconnection. Numbness. Ghosted friendships. Survival. And the deep hope that maybe… we’re not alone in it.
Here’s a deeper look into the stories behind each track, and what they’ve meant to me.
🎧 1. Everyone’s Talking
I’ve never felt more disconnected than when everyone around me was “available.” We’re all reachable now. Messages. Notifications. Scroll. Swipe. Repeat. But somehow it’s harder than ever to be seen.
This song came from that overload, being surrounded by voices but not really hearing anything real. It’s overstimulation in a quiet, soul-deep way. I was in rooms full of people, conversations everywhere… and still completely alone inside. This track sets the emotional tone for the whole album, like saying, “Hey, I’m still here… even if I feel like I’m fading.”
🎧 2. Smile for the Camera
We all have a version of ourselves we send out to the world. This song is about the one that’s smiling when your heart’s in pieces. The photos that look perfect, the laughs that hit just right, while something inside you is unraveling.
I’ve done that. I’ve watched people I love do it. This track came after a conversation where I asked someone how they were doing and they said, “Fine.” But everything about their face said otherwise.
That line, “Nobody knows what I bury in songs” came from a place so raw it almost didn’t make it in.
But it’s the truth. This one hurts, but it needed to be said.
🎧 3. This House Is Loud and Empty
This came from a very personal space, moments in my own home where everything felt “normal,” but emotionally, it was anything but. There’s a certain kind of loneliness that lives in familiar places.
Kids upstairs, dishes clinking, a TV on in the background. But no one’s talking. No one’s really there. It’s not about blame. It’s about silence that isn’t peaceful, it’s hollow.
This song was hard to write because it held up a mirror. And I think that’s why it matters.
🎧 4. Made a Mess, Stayed in Bed
There are days where the weight is too much. When brushing your teeth feels like a victory. This song isn’t a cry for help. It’s a quiet truth that a lot of people live with and feel ashamed to name.
I’ve seen it up close, in people I love, and if I’m honest, in myself.
The mess isn’t just physical. It’s emotional. Mental. And sometimes the bravest thing you can do is stay. This song doesn’t judge. It just sits with you in that room.
🎧 5. The Friend I Don’t Talk To Anymore
This is one of the most personal songs I’ve ever written. It’s about a friend I love like family, someone I grew up with, someone who used to light up every room. And then… he was gone. Not physically. Just… gone.
Something shifted. He pulled away. Stopped answering, stopped trusting, stopped letting any of us in. Every time I’m back in town, I still drive past his place. I still hope the porch light’s on.
The bridge of this song comes from one of the last times we were together, we sat outside, talked for hours, and for a moment it felt like the version of him we missed was still in there. Then the silence came back.
I carry this song like a prayer. And I still hope he hears it.
🎧 6. Ghost Me Too
This one’s about self-sabotage, the kind where you leave before anyone has the chance to hurt you. It’s protection… but at a cost.
I’ve been guilty of it. Shutting down. Pulling away. Telling myself “they won’t stick around anyway” before anyone ever had a chance.
The song sits in that space, where loneliness is self-inflicted, and yet completely understandable.
It’s hard to listen back to this one. Which tells me I needed to write it.
🎧 7. Talk Like That
Some conversations drain you. Surface-level, shallow, safe. We’ve built a whole world out of them. But every once in a while, someone says something real, and it hits you like fresh air.
This song is for the ones tired of pretending. Tired of "I’m good, you?" Tired of laughing when their heart’s screaming.
It’s a quiet rebellion. A request: Please, let’s say something true. Even if it’s hard.
🎧 8. Group Chat Silence
Friendship breakups don’t always come with explosions. Sometimes, they just… fade. You’re still technically “in” the group chat. Still tagged. Still liked. But something’s changed, and no one says your name anymore.
This one hurt to write because I’ve felt it. I’ve seen the conversations keep moving without me. And I’ve watched people I love feel that same slow erasure.
This song is a quiet grief.
🎧 9. I Just Wanted to Feel Something
This track came from conversations with people I love who struggled with self-harm and self-destruction, not because they wanted to die, but because they just wanted to feel something again.
And I’ve felt versions of that in my own way, craving some spark, even if it hurt.
There’s no judgment here. Just the reality that sometimes pain feels more human than numbness.
🎧 10. Autopilot Heart
This is what it feels like to function perfectly on the outside while feeling completely gone on the inside.
Waking up. Working. Smiling. But not really being there. Not really feeling anything. Just drifting.
So many people are in this space and don’t have words for it. This song tries to give them a few.
🎧 11. Louder Than My Thoughts
I’ve left the TV on just to not hear my own brain. I’ve cranked music to avoid that 2AM spiral.
This one’s for the ones who need the volume up to survive. Because silence isn’t peaceful when your own thoughts won’t leave you alone.
🎧 12. Turn It All Off (and Stay)
This song means a lot to me. It’s about the kind of love that doesn’t try to fix you, it just stays.
No answers. No pep talks. Just someone sitting beside you when you’ve got nothing left.
That kind of presence changes everything.
🎧 13. Can You Just Be Here?
This is probably one of the most vulnerable songs on the album. It’s built around a question we rarely say out loud: “Can you please stay? Can you just be here with me?”
Not forever. Not with solutions. Just right now. That moment where someone being near you is the difference between giving up and holding on.
🎧 14. Still Here (Bonus Track)
This one is for the survivors. For the ones who almost left, or tried to. It’s for the people I love who didn’t think they were going to make it… and are still here.
It’s for my kids. It’s for my friends. It’s for anyone who heard the dark calling and somehow woke up anyway.
This is one of the most important songs I’ve ever written. And every time I play it back, I just say thank you.
🎧 15. Second Breath (Instrumental)
No words. Because by this point, we’ve said enough. This track is the breath after the breakdown. The moment of calm. The stillness after chaos. A quiet reminder that you’re still here.
💬 Final Words
This record isn’t built for trends. It wasn’t made for algorithms. It was made for someone sitting in their car wondering if they’re the only one feeling this way.
If you’re that person, this album is for you.
Thanks for listening.
— Mike