A friend once told me, "Life is like a turtle. If you don't stick your head out every now and then, you'll never know what's out there." I always thought that quote sucked. Especially since it mostly was used as a motivational ploy to get me to be his wingman at dive bars. But the quote might work here. Because last weekend, I stuck my head out into the Tampa Bay area and I saw what is out there ... and it's pretty good.

It started on Friday. Friday has a feel unlike any other day of the week. The clock moves faster and the workplace is more tolerable. Face it, you're riding a natural high before you break out for a two-and-a-half-day stretch of whatever the fuck pleases you. On this particular weekend, that pleasure was going to a show. It was well past 5 and I was about to burst. The weekend already had begun for my friend and fellow coworker, James, and I needed to play catch-up. I hit his and his girl's place with a 12-pack and James, Janet and I watched the Lightning get smacked. The weekend started off on a sour note, but our fretting was precluded by multiple drinks and the fact that we had a show to see. We arrived at Bombshell Gallery and the first band, Auto-Automatic, was already underway. Immediately, I noticed two things: No. 1: The place has character. No. 2: The music rocks!

Bombshell is a quaint spot located at 2534 Central Avenue in St. Pete. I've seen one-bedrooms bigger than this joint, but what it lacks in space, it more than makes up for in personality. You'll actually get the feeling you're in someone's apartment. The walls are red with large moldings and decorated with oddly-cool pieces of artwork. There are books and magazines littered throughout; and wing-back chairs and coffee tables to take a load off. Movie addicts will appreciate the living room loaded with a giant TV and gorgeous L-shaped sofa. A small bar hangs out in the corner and there is one bathroom. There's even an outdoor area with a few benches and plenty of space for the standing-room-only crowd.

After grabbing my 2 Pabst, I turned to the band, Auto!Automatic!! (unbeknownst to me at the time). It's a three-piece group: guitar, bass, drums. There's no singer, no vocals. And while I don't own a lot of albums that are strictly instrumental, it didn't bother me when watching these guys. They played with a fierce energy while hammering down some complex time signatures and dropping in some melodic verses that soon became addictive. And Bombshell keeps the house lights on which makes this a great place to snap some live concert shots.

The next group kicked off their set with twice as many members as the previous band, The Sugar Oaks looked comfortably squeezed with their backs displayed in the front window of Bombshell. It seemed like the crowd for the Oaks had dwindled a bit; not because the music was bad but because half the audience were the bands themselves. The sound for this band was more tightly knit than their stage presence. They tied together an interesting pattern of acoustic folk, pop keys and bass with a gentle but funky drum beat. Although, they're now based in Orlando, they trace their roots to the Gulf coast.

When it was time for the final band, it looked like the size of the crowd had changed again, only this time it grew. With The Sugar Oaks finishing their performance, the audience only had to trade two members of Candy Bars. They were without their drummer (he relocated) and were now set up for a duet: guitarist/singer with a cellist. Bombshell's ambience is already personal and Candy Bars made it feel as if we were at a private show. The texture of their songs was immersed in dreamlike chords and deep strings. The absence of a steady beat only intensified the tone of the affair. As Janet so aptly put it, "it sounds even sadder."

The musical spectrum for the evening could not have been wider. As for the experience itself? I was tapping my toes during Auto!Automatic!!. I was nodding my head during The Sugar Oaks. I was handing a Kleenex to Janet during Candy Bars.

The three of us had no plans on Saturday. We just wanted to drink and meet up with our friends on the Tampa side. After tossing out possible places to attack, we decide on New World Brewery. For 5, we were at another show. The same great price as the night before and a similar situation; I had no clue who this band was. But one song into it and all my friends were asking for their name. "Thank you. We're Venice Is Sinking," said their petite violist.

We gathered with decent crowd and listened to the group from Athens, Ga. Their indie pop groove picked up right where Candy Bars left off but with the peppy drums, keyboards and harmonized vocals.

Zillionaire was up next; a four-piece ensemble from Tampa. They reminded me of 90s alt-rock; lots of delicate guitar playing offset with splashes of robust choruses and some downbeat drums.

It was by chance that we walked in on that New World show. We were in the neighborhood and wanted to play some foosball and drink; the live act was a pleasant surprise, the entire weekend was for that matter. And it's a cool feeling knowing that most of the bands we saw hail from our hometown. Call it local pride. Known for being a punk rock machine, the Tampa bay area is churning out some appealing indie rock. We stuck our heads out and we found something: live music that's local, live music that's cheap, live music that's good.