On the road again

PELHAM, TENN.

After singing “Alone” together at show’s end for their most communal experience in 16 months, 50 or so Trampled by Turtles fans bolted from their socially distanced pods to take selfies with the band. Not a single smile was shrouded by a mask.

Looking as happy as the rest, Adam Quinlan told the group he planned to catch them again in the fall. That made singer/guitarist Dave Simonett smile, too.

“I hope so,” he told Quinlan, who got bad news as he drove to the scenic Caverns Above Ground Amphitheater with a couple dozen friends from Dayton, Ohio: After months of radiation and chemotherapy, his cancer had spread.

Talking about it later backstage, Simonett took a rare break from laughing it up with the bandmates he saw way too little of last year.

“It reminds you how much live music means to a lot of people,” he said. “And how much that means to us.”

Whether it was one fan facing the worst fight of his life or a few thousand simply looking to finally have the time of theirs, Minnesota’s most consistent and prominent touring band of the past decade was visibly thrilled and not the slightest bit worried about seeing fans face-to-face again.

Thanks to their affinity for outdoor venues, Trampled by Turtles got an early jump on the return of the U.S. concert industry. That’s after its members also jumped at getting vaccinated, of course.

Their first dates of 2021 were at the rural amphitheater in southeastern Tennessee, above the caves where the PBS-TV series “Bluegrass Underground” is filmed. When the gigs were announced in March, the Duluth-bred acoustic folk-rock sextet was still uncertain whether they could ride in the bus together or take selfies after the sets — or even draw a crowd.

“I thought these shows might just get added to the list of dates we had already postponed,” bassist Tim Saxhaug admitted the first day after sound check.

Instead, Trampled is now looking at a full slate of summer and fall dates.

The rest of their 2021 itinerary — all outdoor gigs for now — includes two full-capacity concerts July 15-16 at the famed Red Rocks Amphitheater near Denver and a Sept. 18 return to Minnesota at Treasure Island Casino Amphitheater (part of a Midwest co-headlining trek with Wilco).

All the safety precautions settled on months ago proved to be superfluous at these first dates.

Face masks were used as beer koozies, if at all. Hand-sanitizer stands became walking hazards after dark. The roped-off pod areas intended to separate fans weren’t adhered to much, especially not when the band kicked into high gear with dance-generating songs like “Wait So Long.”

A beach ball that would have been deemed unsafe to touch last summer bounced through the crowd on the first night. A fan who repeatedly yelled out a request for the never-not-played “Victory” wasn’t muffled by a face covering.

After Simonett owned up to a flub or two on the second night, a woman in the crowd shouted out, “We couldn’t tell.”

“Thank you,” the Trampled frontman shot back. “I couldn’t tell you guys are rusty, either, after being away from concerts so long.”

None of the old, standard concert annoyances seemed to bother the band members last weekend. However, some of the assorted quirks about performing post-COVID did throw off these relatively unflappable tour veterans.

For cellist Eamonn McLain, one hard adjustment was having to rehearse on his own before hitting the road. Travel plans could not be arranged on short notice for the members to gather from their homes in Colorado, northern Minnesota and the Twin Cities.

“The problem with playing along to the records instead of playing together,” McLain confided, “is this band tends to play every song twice as fast live.”

Fiddle player Ryan Young had to get used to giving virtual violin lessons while on the road. Those lessons went a long way toward paying his bills last year.

“I want to keep doing it because I enjoy it,” Young said of teaching, “but we also still all have that worry at the back of our minds: What if — God forbid — one of these new [virus] variants catches on or something else happens to force us to start canceling shows again?”

For both Simonett and mandolinist Erik Berry, the hardest change was suddenly not being around their children. Each has two kids they saw more than ever when schools shut down alongside the concert industry in March 2020.

“I got to spend a lot of the pandemic playing third-grade teacher to my daughter,” Berry said, “and I actually kind of miss it now.”

Dave Carroll’s main complaint was another post-COVID issue that non-musicians could relate to.

The banjo picker hated the return to “show jeans,” which he has donned on stage most nights ever since Texas songwriting legend Billy Joe Shaver chastised the band for wearing shorts to a gig in Dallas.

GALLERY: TRAMPLED BY TURTLES ON TOUR

More photos of the Minnesota tour kings Trampled by Turtles on their return to the open road.

“It’s hard going back after only wearing things with drawstrings and waistbands for 15 months,” Carroll griped.

Trampled’s members all had to tighten up personal expenses during the hiatus. Like nearly every music act in this era of infamously low-paying digital streaming, they earn way more off live shows than their albums.

As the quarantine wore on, the Trampled organization took out federal PPP (Paycheck Protection Program) loans. Longtime tour manager Mike “D” Tholen — the captain who always ensures the ship sails smoothly — didn’t whitewash how rough it was for him and others in the band’s six-man road crew.

“Most of us had to file for unemployment,” he said, “and eventually just faced the uncertainty not knowing how long it was going to last.”

Like Young, many turned to other work. Simonett did construction jobs with fellow Twin Cities musicians. McLain signed on with a furniture builder. Guitar tech Don “DJ” House went to school for digital design and (when possible) tended bar.

“I missed these guys and this work so much,” House said. “That was maybe the hardest part.”

Along with the financial worries came emotional challenges.

Young lost his mom and went through an abrupt divorce early in the pandemic, “which kind of made the rest of the time seem tame,” he said. He and Saxhaug also struggled with health issues that led to cleaner-living lifestyles.

McLain signed up for online inspirational classes based on Julia Cameron’s book “The Artist’s Way” because, he said, “I needed reassurance that I am an artist, and that it’s a valuable pursuit.”

The cellist also cited George Floyd’s murder and the ensuing chaos near his and Simonett’s homes last summer.

“In one way or another,” McLain surmised, “I think this past year and a half really made each of us reflect on the world way beyond our own little world here on tour.”

These struggles all came up when the band members were asked how the forced hiatus might change things going forward. Plans to record a new album in November will probably give way to indoor concerts over the winter and spring.

“Honestly, I never took it for granted that I get to play music all over the world with a really great group of guys,” Young said.

“Now, more than ever, though, I appreciate I get to do it.”

It was no coincidence the band opened its two-night Tennessee stand with the rather somber, contemplative title track of its last album, 2018’s “Life Is Good on the Open Road.”

Run so fast through the fields in May
And I forgot what I had to say
I’ve never been through a harder day
Than the one that left your ghost here.

Other songs resonated more brightly than usual in the starlit, firefly-dotted hillside setting. Yes, even the over-requested “Victory.” (“All of us lonely, it ain’t a sin. To want something better than the shape you’re in.”)

After the harmonious 2010 nugget “Separate” on the second night — “I’m working hard to separate war from beauty” — a fan with a Southern accent seemed to overdose on the warm northern vibes.

“I love Minnesota!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Simonett offered back his love.

“I can’t tell you how much I missed this,” the singer said.

Just before showtime that night, as his bandmates emerged from the bus and backstage trailer, fiddling with their in-ear monitors and ironed shirts — Carroll had already given up his show jeans for drawstring pants — Simonett threw out the idea of playing a “secret show” when they’re all back in Minnesota later this summer. Each of the musicians required zero persuasion.

Never really asked for his opinion, tour manager Tholen was left to clean up the tequila glasses and start filling in the details of that secret gig after the band returned to the stage.

“Business as usual again,” he ever so coolly muttered.