by Matt Coplon, Light Yourself On Fire

In the city where the sun shines 361 days a year, there are no churches being burned and no ghouls parading through the streets. Instead, it's a final destination for many over the age of 55 to retire to. As a bonus, it's extremely hot and often unbearable.

We (as a band) live in a historic bungalow ridden neighborhood in the middle of Tampa. On Saturday mornings you can stroll through the Augusta brick streets and more than likely see Gen (from Genitorturers) mowing her grass or David Vincent buying a cup of coffee at the local Starbucks. True, Tampa is the Death Metal Capital of the world. However, it is truly, in no fashion, anything close to Satanic.

Let's back up about sixty years. Florida became a boom town right after the Second World War. As the masses migrated, their options were limited to only four major cities: Jacksonville, Miami, St. Pete, and Tampa. As the populations of these cities increased, the tiny city centers became bloated, belching families into the beginnings of one of Florida's major problems: Urban Sprawl. Over the years, as sprawl augmented, families became isolated on lily pads of development popping up throughout the state. For (us) kids growing up, being stuck in the middle of these simulated communities made rebellion a common motif shared between us.

Rebellion to what you might ask?

Boredom.

As Kierkegaard once said "…Boredom is the root to all evil…" And that boredom was definitely building up plenty of evil; it just needed an outlet to be released.

By the late 1970's and early 1980's, kids pent up in their rooms lived the music of Judas Priest and Iron Maiden. Unfortunately, with Florida being this sore thumb sticking out of the continental US, many of these touring bands would rarely travel through the state. With no live acts to experience, this music coming out of the family record player goaded them into learning instruments on their own. And somehow, these kids ended up finding each other and were connected through the bonds of early metaldom. They took this cutting edge music and morphed it into something even more extreme: their boredom was transcribed into evil. And that evil was the beginning of "Death Metal."

Soon after, bands like "Death," "Xecutioner," and "Amon" were born out of Tampa. These bands were successful in creating their own scene based around brutal ass music. Local venues began hosting shows; The Sunset Club, The Volley Club, and the Ritz. As the scene grew, more bands popped up; Morbid Angel, Acheron, and Brutality. And more kids came out of the woodwork. The scene peaked in the early 90's.

By the mid to late 90's, Tampa's death metal scene seemed to have fizzled out. Bands severed ties, the original metal kids had grown up, and the new kids were patronizing venues that played host to indy, punk, and hardcore. Like all things historic, the death metal scene became a reminiscent fizzle in the archives of the Tampa underground.
 

Today, venues like the Crowbar, Transitions Art Gallery, and mainly the Brass Mug are holding down the fort of metal. Many touring metal bands continue to pay homage, but the unfortunate fact is that many people continue to not come out.

Interestingly enough, bands like Morbid Angel and Deicide are still together, still herald Tampa as home, but only play here on tour. And those shows in particular are a huge deal.

In retrospect, if you're looking for great beaches, good food, plenty of night clubs, cheap beer, or a tan, Tampa is the place. If you're looking for metal, pouring freely out of the anus of Satan, you might want to try another city.

Matt Coplon is a member of Light Yourself On Fire

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