A revived, transmuted scene reveals struggle, benefit

A powerful resurgence in Baton Rouge’s metal scene has sparked an eruption of fresh artists and hybrid genres, shadowing the familiar intense commitment and sacrifice that defined the city’s earlier metal pioneers.

“There’s a pretty good amount of venues for a smaller town like Baton Rouge,” DeadCentered’s vocalist and guitarist Joshua Selser said,” though this hasn’t always been the case. 

Wasted Creation’s bassist Chris Rumfellow said there’s been a large gap within the past few years where bigger bands rarely toured locally due to a market dip that made bands seem less financially liable. The impact on the scene made it harder for local bands to gain traction.

“For a while I didn't hear much of anything coming from the music scene, then all of a sudden there were a bunch of killer bands out,” Swamp Stank’s guitarist Tyler Rockforte said. After the stagnation, the scene “came back with a vengeance.”

Out of the 65 venues that Baton Rouge offers, metal bands only currently play at the Southside Arts Center, The Woodshop at 1415 Laurel St., Bald Eagle Pub, Brickyard, The Varsity, Phil Brady’s Bar, Mid City Ballroom, Spanish Moon, occasionally at Pop Shop Records, and house shows. 

“We have more places to play and more active bands in the scene,” Selser said, accounting for the local rising metal scene. “It’s as healthier now that it’s ever been.” 

Recently, the gap has been shrinking. This year other distinguished bands like As I Lay Dying, Emmure, Fever 333, Black Label Society and The Black Dahlia Murderwill tour in New Orleans or Baton Rouge. Attila, an infamously larger named “party-metal” band, headed at the Varsity on Sept. 3 with four local bands. 

For the Varsity, Rockforte said that usually four bands are given 50 presale tickets to sell on a Friday night booking. Since each band sells them almost every time, it’s about 200 attendances in presales alone. Though, smaller bars like Phil Brady's pull about 30-50 people, he said. 

Local bands like Swamp Stank have widened the genre further with the “Louisiana southern metal” classification, leading Selser to believe it influenced the scene’s growth. The scene was dead from about 2014 - 2017 in recent times. Because everyone was doing the same thing, interest was lost, Rockforte said. “Now, everyone is doing all kinds of different genres and all the mixed-genre bills are making music interesting again.”

Since Selser vocalized for his first hardcore band “Bleeding Power” in ‘96, “there’s more cross-genre bands uniting and sharing the scene.” The local band Dalton Wayne and the Warmadillos, known for blurring the lines between country music and rock ‘n’ roll, shares shows with punk bands, exposes audiences to new sounds, and in turn, widens the fan base for both genres. 

Heavy metal is a genre of rock music defined by its aggressive and emotional sounds that drive its popularity and since the 80s, the genre’s continuous evolution produced a winding list of sub-genres. 

Thou, Baton Rouge’s own “metal-sludge” band are known for their emotionally charged, poetically heart-ripping lyrics. “Descend into the ever-widening, yawning chasm of black thought. Descend into the void pit, that spiraling hole of self deification” is an example of their lyrical paradigm that has transmuted into a global phenomenon. 

Thou gained popularity through free music on bandcamp, a music streaming service. This year, they traveled the world and performed as the first metal band to play an NPR Tiny Desk concert after years of sacrifice and commitment to the local underground “Do It Yourself” culture. 

Though looking through the lens of success may make the musician’s lifestyle seem gratifying, being able to participate comes at a cost only the few are willing to endure. 

“I have a wife and four kids, and the sacrifice of time away from them isn't easy,” Rockforte said. “For every friend I've distanced from, I've gained way more within the music scene,” he said of those who did not understand or respect his route. 

Rockforte recognized that he couldn't come close to providing for his family strictly on show pay, he said. BBC reported a survey that revealed 60 percent of performers had to take second jobs. His other areas of income come from his job as a hopper car washer and the owner of Swamp Ass Designs, a graphic design service. 

Local bands make the majority of their income through merchandise. On average, Swamp Stank sells $100-300 worth of merchandise a night and profits about 40 percent on what's invested. However, bands’ profit goes back into the band for more merchandise or studio time.  

A local band trying to make a name for itself requires all band members to be committed, talented and financially stable, though it is rare to find all three, Chris Rumfellow said. Starting bands that tour must accept not being able to pay bills when the band members are home only for a few months at a time. 

Being a touring band entails having to become homeless, Rumfellow said. 

If Decoy’s five band members weren’t sleeping in their van, they would be “staying at a hotel for $40 a night [where] every single room around us has people doing crack in it and we’re having to take shifts guarding the trailer so nobody steals equipment.” 

Money has also strained some of the band members’ relationships with their family, significant others and friends. 

“I can't tell you how many times I’ve been kicked out of my house over music, how many times I’ve been in fights over music, girlfriends lost, friendships lost,” local booking agent and musician Dakota Walters said. “When it comes to a working musician, you’re taking a title that’s earned.” 

When family, friends and society turned their backs on Selser, he said he could always rely on music. “It’s never rejected me unless I break a string,” he said.

For Rockforte, the payoff is a therapeutic one. “I'm able to put all of my emotions on the line and have a healthy outlet for any pent up anger,” he said. 

The adrenaline rush of performing is “better than any drug that exists,” Matt Rumfellow, guitarist for metalcore band Decoy said. Performing music releases endorphins, the body's natural opiates. Consequently, Selser revealed that the post-performance endorphin crash leads musicians chasing that high, often to addiction. 

Walters describes performing as “serenity” and it puts him in a “zen state of mind” despite the high energy. Today, his relationship with his family is restored and they gained respect for him once they realized he was doing something he said his heart called him to do. 

“When I'm on stage, every sacrifice up to that point is completely understood and accepted,” Rockforte said. “The rest of the world doesn't exist outside of that room when I am playing.”