The band name is inspired by the unassailably cool, ‘70s street gang flick, The Warriors, though they’ve inexplicably supplanted “Turnbull” with “Turbo.” Too bad the music isn’t similarly inspired. In fact, their whole aesthetic seems overwrought and too planned out, from the three dice rolled out to “666” on the inside cover to the half-naked, strip poker-playing pin-up girls on the tray photo to the street-hard looks the band members have plastered on their mugs for the back cover band photo. The Turbos try hard to leave a tough impression. The music sounds a lot like Tiger Army, the Glass Heroes, and, especially, early Rancid. The lyrics are often delivered in an absurd quasi-rap style, and, let me tell ya, Biggie Smalls these cats are not. The further into the disc I get, the more the Tim Armstrong influence drips from the speakers. I could see young kids just getting into punk hearing this stuff, thinking it’s bad assed, tough and cool, and finding an entry into punk rock and underground music, which is alright. But, it sounds a little too much like a cross-eyed meathead doing free word associations with a rock/rap backing band for my tastes. The Baseball Furies would whip these guys’ asses up and down the fuckin’ boardwalk.