Turnabout at the Renaissance Faire

It has been two years since artist Turnabout left Haunted Mound, the witch house rap hybrid collective started by former collaborator Sematary. Nowadays, he lives in New York and focuses on his solo career. 

Today, he is with me at a renaissance faire in Broward County, Florida. He has never done a public, solo interview.

One girl wears a homemade, purple wizard costume. Her pointy hat is nearly five feet tall and she ducks while walking under a tree at the entrance, it is beginning to rain.

Turnabout poses with the Wizard (or Witch?)

We walk in and Turnabout is in awe of what we’re seeing. He says that everything people say about Florida is true. 

We pass: pirate magicians, children with weapons, people playing bagpipes and flutes, inflatable dragons, unsettling jesters on stilts, a giant hamster wheel that powers a snow cone machine, women dancing in circles and more.

Fire Stunt Show

Giant Rocking Horse

Trudging down the muddy trail is a mother with a baby bouncing up and down in her carrier. A father takes a rip of his strikingly modern disposable vape as his children play games in the rain.

We find a wooden picnic table where we begin to talk.

Behind us is a family of young children shrieking. They are being pushed on a giant, carved-out swinging barrel. All of the rides here are pushed by tired workers because there was no electricity in the middle ages.

“They’re gonna remember this for quite some time,” says Turnabout, smiling at the family.

The artist first appeared on the underground rap radar in 2021 as a member of the aforementioned Haunted Mound. His name comes from Dr. Phil’s Turn-About Ranch in Utah, the artist’s home state. He chose this name before claims of the ranch’s abuse really came to light.

Turnabout has never publicly spoken on why he left Haunted Mound. At this point in his career, who knows if he’ll ever want to? But at the beginning of our conversation, it was certainly an elephant in the room.

“I have nothing negative to say about them,” says Turnabout. “I don't speak to a good- some of them, but it's not like a bad blood thing at all.

It's just like time and distance, you know? We chose to go our separate ways, we kind of got to keep it like that now,” he continues.

“But shout out to everyone that's there still. Like, I fuck with all of them.”

While still consistently making music, life has been quite different for Turnabout the last two years.

“It's been nice because, like, I'm grateful for all the shit that I got to do while I was over there. When I was, like, very young and I did pretty much everything that I wanted to do, or that one could want to do from this music shit. Like go on tour or do whatever else,” he says.

“And I don't know, it's been a lot calmer since then, but I'm still like, I'm still hungry.”

An Assortment of Exotic Tails

Since leaving, he has been left to make things all on his own. At first, he worked closely with Gonerville, another former Mound member who left the group on the same day. Now, Turnabout is trying to be a more well-rounded artist, filling multiple roles.

“That's what I'm trying to do for real is be like all in one, just be able to do everything. Cause you know, it's pretty annoying to have to like find an editor … or a producer and you tell them you want this and they can't quite make it. That's not their fault at all,” he says.

“It's just like impossible for someone else to bring your exact vision to life. So you got to do it. … when I finish something, it's like, ‘Okay, nice, like this feels a lot better than if you had five other people working on it.’”

The rain is coming down hard now, Turnabout and I move to stand under a Banyan tree. A group of elven women take our spots at the picnic table.

For years, Turnabout would fight with himself on if he actually liked his own music or not. During the recording of his old tapes, he would sit in the studio afterwards and ask himself, “Damn, is this shit ass?”

Now slightly older and a more seasoned artist, there is not much of an internal fight, but releasing something new can still intimidate him.

The release of his 2025 album, “Pain,” revealed a more experimental side of Turnabout that wanted to prove something. The project was initially 30 songs long before he went through and kept the half that he felt fit thematically. 

Releasing the project was nerve-wracking, the artist says, but he is incredibly proud of it.

“That's all that mattered to me really … the whole goal with ‘Pain’ was like, I moved to New York, wanted to make something different or I guess show that I can make, like, multiple different things.”

Live Entertainment

Even with the change in sounds, themes of mental struggle remain a constant through line in his work. This is because Turnabout has severe obsessive compulsive disorder — something that is hinted at across his discography. He even has a song called “OCD.”

As a child, the artist started having terrifying panic attacks in the middle of the night for seemingly no reason.  Later, he would begin to mentally spiral when thinking about the idea of eternity.

“The concept of when you die, if heaven and hell exists, that eternity is like, there is really no end. Like, a constant time spiral. That would freak me the fuck out when I was super young. I would, like, trip about that.”

Throughout his childhood, Turnabout would watch the news on TV and sat petrified seeing people who would mentally snap and then hurt others. He was afraid he could do the same.

“‘Cause like you see all these people who do, like, fucking insane, like terrifying acts have zero previous track record,” says Turnabout. “So like, I'd see all that shit and be like, ‘Damn, that motherfucker seemed like an average Joe.’ That shit used to freak me out.”

One lyric that fans tend to reference online is on his 2023 song, “Early Morning Ritual,” that goes, “Fentanyl on my can, gotta wipe it off again.”

“That's not ‘cause I do fentanyl,” Turnabout tells me. “It's ‘cause I was afraid that fentanyl was going to be on everything that I touched. And like that, that was a constant struggle for like years and years and years.”

Seconds later in the song is the lyric, “Leave my drink up on the curb, waiting for the tampering.”

Turnabout only got over this fentanyl fear through exposure therapy. During sessions, his therapist would make him leave an open beverage outside on the corner of an intersection. At the end of the session, Turnabout would have to go outside and drink it.

“Exposure therapy was fucked,” he says. “They used to make me do crazy shit, but it worked because now like, I don't really care about any of that.”

He says that making music is the only thing that truly helped him deal with his OCD. Music was his way out of a mind filled with irrational fears and obsessions.

“I still grab the second can from the back at the gas station. Or the third can, I guess,” says Turnabout

Turnabout’s Throne

When creating music that delves into these themes, Turnabout makes what he would want to hear when he’s upset.

“Everyone loves to listen to sad music when you're sad. You know what I mean? You're not fucking putting on Travis [Scott] when you're fucking crying over some shit,” he says.

“I'm in the studio, I'm working and then later I listen back and I'd be like, you know, ‘This is some real shit. Like, this is some real shit.’ And a couple of people have been like, ‘Yeah, bro, I love thi- I love playing this song when I'm upset over this, I got OCD too.’ And it's like, bro, that's the most rewarding thing. That's exactly what those songs were intended to do.

… It doesn't all have to be sad though. Like, I love, like, making turnt shit to feel better as well. ‘Cause it's on the same end where it's like, you're sad and you want to listen to sad music.

Sometimes it be like, ‘Damn, I'm sad. Let me listen to fuckin’ Mo Bamba.’ You know what I mean? 

So I'd make some turnt shit just to like, you know, get the energy out or like when I'm alone, I like to dance. So I like making lit shit at the same time. And I'll try to talk about [mental health] on the lit songs too, but sometimes it's hard to not talk about, like, fun experiences and shit when you're trying to make a happier song.”

Although the artist prefers recording on the days when he’s in a good mood, he sometimes thinks his best work is made when he’s in pain.

“I remember the day I recorded ‘Prevail’ was like right after I moved to New York and, like, my girl hadn’t moved there yet.

I was missing her OD. Fuckin’, we hadn't done any grocery shopping since we got there. So like, motherfucker, it was three in the morning, I had no food in the fridge.

I was pissed. Cause I was like, I was drinking. I had, like, a couple beers that night. So I was like, ‘Damn, now I have no fucking food.’

So I gotta DoorDash, fucking quick 70 on DoorDash in the middle of the night, nothing's open.

I was just, like, missing home for real. And then that's when I made ‘Prevail.’ I was having, like, a shitty day, but I don't know. I've definitely made songs under worse conditions, but I don't want to get too deep into that.”

Turnabout’s Kingdom

Turnabout has worked with artists that many underground rappers would kill to get a feature from. Besides Haunted Mound, he also has songs with Black Kray and Snow Strippers.

The artist met Black Kray — or Sickboyrari — during the process of making Sematary’s song, “Hallowed Be My Wrist,” when Haunted Mound visited Richmond, Virginia. “Great, great time,” he says.

Turnabout also says they never worked in the studio with Black Kray because Kray is very particular about the mixing of his vocals and only sends in verses. Kray also hopped on Turnabout’s song, “Chalice.”

“I love Black Kray, he has, like, godlike wisdom. Like, the air goes cold when he steps in the room. It's crazy,” says Turnabout. 

“It feels almost like- it was, like, the same sort of whimsicalness or, like, aura to him, I guess, as like when I met Lil B. You're just like, ‘This fool is so goated,’ that it's like what the fuck do you even say to him?”

Display of Different Birds

Owl and a Hawk

Even though I don’t have a question, when I say the word, “Pokémon,” a smile creeps across Turnabout’s face.

“I fucking love Pokémon, bro. Holy shit,” he says.

“I've referenced Pokémon in my music. I've been playing the video games and the card game — but mostly the card game — ever since I was like fucking four-years-old. Like, my brother put “FireRed” into my hands when I was a kid and I never looked back.”

“I used to feel so fucking fresh coming back to school. Binder full of fucking lit ass cards! ‘Cause I just played to win for them. So it's like I’d come and I had the fucking Pokémon hat. I used to wear my competitor lanyard to fuckin’ school, I was a dick dude. I let these motherfuckers know I was nice.”

His enthusiasm and love for Pokémon is palpable.

“I never fell off with Pokemon. I stayed consistent. I really have been actively, like, fucking with that shit for, like, over a decade now, for sure. But yeah, I love that shit so much. I love the card game, I love collecting, I love playing.”

Once Turnabout gets to where he wants with the sound of his music, he wants to take more time to really get back into the game. A goal of his is to win the Pokémon World Championship.

“There's spots where I can pull up like every now and again. If I'm not doing nothing, like, I might go to a league and play in the tournament or whatever.

The other day, my girl was at work. I had nothing to do, so I took my deck to the fuckin’ card store. And there was like 70 people there and I cleaned fucking house. We got like top two in that shit. And you win packs and stuff when you're good too, so it really can generate money. If you win the world championship, I think you get like 50 bands or something.”

Turnabout and a Red Knight

During his teenage years, Turnabout was also very invested in the game, Counter-Strike. More specifically, the gambling side of it.

“I was nice at CS to be honest,” he says. “I was good as fuck and my inventory was always butter until like five years ago. Then I sold all my shit.”

He stopped playing out of fear that he would become addicted to gambling.

“My principle has always been, like, if something feels too good or something is too fun, you have to stop.

You're gonna wanna do it more and, like, bro, you know how lit you'd be, age 14-years-old, seeing the screen pop up, like four bands, you just won a knife? ‘Damn! We’re fucking lit right now!’”

He continued, “One time I opened a pair of Amphibious gloves, sport gloves, which are like- they were like $2,200 and I was like 15 years old, just Saturday morning, in my room on my laptop, just opening cases.

I stand up out my chair, ‘Holy fucking shit! Oh my fucking God!’ Like, the float was so fire, so I was like, ‘Oh, I'm bouta get a bag for these, like I'm so lit.’

My mom comes in, she's like, ‘Are you okay?!’ Like, ‘What's going on?!’ ‘I just made 2200! Like holy fucking shit!’ Yo, when you're 15, 2200 might as well be 20,000.”

Although opening CSGO cases is now a thing of Turnabout’s past, nothing compares to the high of releasing music.

“Making money off of music, or like, getting fans from music, or just having people fuck with what you're doing is a million worlds more fucking rewarding than me winning any amount of money from spinning a fucking slot,” he says.

“When your feet hit the stage and a group of people are singing the words, that you wrote, back to you, there's nothing better than that feeling.”

This year, the artist plans to play multiple shows across America and meet as many of his fans as possible. He also has an EP he’s working on with White Ring, the witch house band formed in 2009.

After our conversation, we walk around, looking at everyone’s costumes. Turnabout wanted to see an alligator while in Florida, but we had no luck. The rain was starting to stop as we left.

No Gators

“The only one that can ever stop you is you, for real. Like, you'll never fall off if you never stop. You'll never get on if you stop. You know what I mean? Literally no one can dictate that shit. So, the only one that could stop you is you.”