Words: Scott Harrell
Photo: Marcus Laurenzi

Album Release Events:
November 3, 2007
New World Brewery, Ybor City

November 4, 2007
Vinyl Fever, Tampa

There are about a million reasons why people start playing music. Maybe somebody's parents are musicians, and encourage/push it on them. Maybe somebody's friends' band needs a second guitarist. Maybe somebody just wants to express him or herself, or pick up a new hobby to pass the time, or bang a lot of people without having to get to know them very well first. (Chances are, that last somebody is going to be very disappointed – this ain't the Eighties, kids.)

On the other hand, there's only one reason why people stop playing music. Those who give it up may think their reasons for doing so are unique to their respective situations, but it always boils down to the same thing: they have reached a point where, for them, the return is no longer worth the investment; the satisfaction or money or prestige or whatever they get out of it just doesn't measure up to the money or time or hope or whatever they put into it.

It happens to a lot of musicians. In fact, it happens to most musicians. But some won't ever momentarily marvel that they haven't picked up their instrument in six months before shrugging it off and getting on with their lives. Some will always find the couple of hours a week for practice, or the fifty bucks for rehearsal-space time, or the room in their houses for a little home-recording station. They don't do it because they still think they're gonna be famous, if they ever did. They do it because, for them, the simple joy of making music is always worth it, no matter what the cost.

There's a word for musicians like that.

They're called lifers.

“When I was in high school, I wanted a guitar because I wanted to be in a band,” says Heath Dupras, frontman for Tampa act Zillionaire. “I started going to college, and then I didn't anymore, because I just wanted to be in bands and go on tour. And once I started, I realized I didn't want to be a rock star.

“But I did want to keep playing music, and there was this whole community of musicians who weren't famous, but music was what they did. And I thought, 'that's what I want.' I've come to terms with the fact that it's more of a hobby now, and as long as I'm still playing music when I'm old, I'm fine with that.”

Three quarters of Zillionaire – Dupras, fellow guitarist Michael Waksman and bassist Bryan Bates – experienced some next-level success with The Washdown, a Tampa act that put out a couple of records on quasi-legendary punk label Lookout Records during the first half of the '00s. For Dupras, who played drums in that group, the whole thing wasn't a very big deal.

“That's not why we started that band,” he says. “We started that band to get free beer.”

“When Zillionaire started, it wasn't because something didn't happen with The Washdown,” adds drummer Keith Ulrey. “It wasn't even mentioned. It was just, let's have some fun, put out some records and be a normal local band.” 

Dupras and Ulrey built Zillionaire in mid-'04 around some tunes Dupras wrote by himself during his post-Washdown downtime. They originally envisioned the project as a guitar-and-drums duo, but the layered, dynamic nature of the material quickly revealed a need to bring others into the fold; they turned to Waksman and Bates, fellow local-scene veterans they've known and gotten along with approximately forever.

“I don't think I've ever been in a band where I've recruited somebody from an ad, or who was a friend of a friend of a friend that we had to get to know,” Ulrey says. “Maybe once.”

All of these guys have been making music, in all sorts of bands ranging from the obscure and culty (Versailles) to the nationally recognized (Pohgoh), for more than a decade. They've been around the block more than a few times. For their next lap, they were determined to do it at their own pace.

“We said when we started this band that we weren't going to rush anything,” says Dupras. “There's zero agenda. We were just kind of writing songs, thinking maybe we'd eventually get around to documenting it.”

They eventually did. It may have taken a year and a half of catch-as-catch-can studio sessions, but the Zillionaire's debut full-length The Street Lights Have Been Turned Down is finally ready; the group will celebrate its release with a November 3 shindig at New World Brewery. Depthy and introspective, the CD mixes the moodiness and experimentation of contemporary posthardcore with the glacial beauty of classic ahead-of-its-time '90s slowcore and elements from throughout the indie-rock spectrum. It's as unique and un-trendy an album as the Tampa original-music scene is likely to produce this year, a labor of love from a group of musicians playing first and foremost for themselves.

Of course, that doesn't mean they don't want as many people as possible to hear it. Even lifers want to be appreciated.

“You want to play a show, and you want someone to like your band, and I don't think that's egotistical,” reasons Ulrey. “You want to put out a CD. It's not a self-congratulatory thing, it's just that you want people to like your music.”

“I guess,” Dupras shrugs.

“You know you don't want people to hate us,” Ulrey counters.

“I don't care, I just like doing it.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn't still be doing it if we were doing it for zero people.”

“Yeah, I probably would.”

Ulrey thinks for a second.

“Let me put it this way,” he says. “I'm proud of this band. I'm proud of our music and our discipline and our more mature approach to songwriting, and I want people to hear it.”

“My mom's proud, too,” Dupras responds. “She's called, like, three times.”

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