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CD review: Trampled By Turtles
By Michael Hargrave
mhargra1@mscd.edu

Trampled By Turtles Trouble (Banjodad Records, 2007)

Trampled By Turtles embraces heartbreak, alcohol consumption and class struggle: the age-old universal common denominators of mountain and city folk alike.

Dave Simonett and Erik Berry compose precision bluegrass music like a welcoming breath of fresh mountain air in a genre polluted with sloppy hippy jams.

The 2007 Banjodad Records release Trouble cooks up a camp-fire stew of spastic folk: earthy, but not too gamey. It’s Flogging Molly minus the punk or Yonder Mountain String Band minus the hemp.

Trouble will make road kill of your heart in 14 tear-jerking, floor-stomping tracks. “Valley” promptly initiates cardiac rupture with robust bittersweet notions of remorse and reconciliation. The track reminds us that the futility of man is as inherent as the beauty of a serene holler, and you better damn well dance about it.

“Tap the Kitchen Floor” provides the perfect melodies to thoroughly dismantle the cookin’ nook using only your feet.

“Never Again” presents a letter to listeners informing them of the band’s immediate and indefinite halt to smoking, falling in love, drinking and writing music. Tracks like this always deserve a chuckle or two and are well-appreciated within the community of romantics.

Ripping riffs that propel the listener through the stratosphere with the trajectory of a trucker under the influence of amphetamines, “Ceiling Slide” explains how the banjo is a worthy adversary to voluntary immobility without the utterance of a single spoken word.

The album takes an unprecedented detour directly into distortion toward its finale. The listener is bombarded with grungy electric guitar chords while bombastic percussion measures are desperately implemented in hope of answering the question, “Who’s Calling?”

The Minneapolis four-piece makes slam-dancing to a mandolin solo irresistible but allows ample time to recoup into contemplative ambient leisure before breaking into the obligatory subsequent barrage of gut-punching folk riffs.

There is a subtle maturity to these young men’s voices that carries emotion heavier than any punk rocker’s loudest, most shrill scream of defiance while allowing a caliber of sagacity. The ghost story conveyed spectrally through the medium of these four passionate fellows is a long journey that transcends sunny pastures, rock beds and serene rivers by which to sit.

From a high-speed pursuit with the sheriff to drowned sorrows in a big bottle of bourbon to the search for deliverance from a loved one, Turtles provide a guiding light straight into chelonian salvation.