Crowbar’s closing, but a new era for Tom DeGeorge might just be taking flight 23%
By Ray Roa34%
7/30/2026, 2:42:40 PM
BS Summary: This article contains 28 faulty reasoning types, including Post Hoc (False Cause), Optimism Bias, and Biased Writer Voice, with Hasty Generalization as the most egregious example at 11.6% saturation with 123 hits. Analysis detected 1,155 faulty-reasoning hits from 1,062 analyzed words, generating a BS Score of 35.5% and a BS Rank of 23% (17,343 of 22,361 articles). This article is better (less manipulative) than 77.60% of the article peer group.
Tom DeGeorge at Crowbar in Ybor City, Florida on July 3, 2026.
Tom DeGeorge at Crowbar in Ybor City, Florida on July 3, 2026.
Credit: Dave Decker / Creative Loafing Tampa Bay
Four days away from turning the page on a 20-year chapter of his life, Tom DeGeorge has worked for 21 days straight and more or less eats all his meals standing up.
He’s lost 12 pounds, too, but he’s not exactly proud about it.
“It’s because I haven’t slept.
This is not the way you want to lose weight,” he tells Creative Loafing Tampa Bay.
“But I do feel strong.
I feel rested.
I have energy.”
Inside, homegrown filmmaker Dylan Melcher is hosting the soundtrack release for “Jellyfish Season,” his indie project shot on 16mm Kodak reels.
Chance Reynolds, a bright young drummer from St.
Petersburg, who scored the movie, leads a quartet.
It’s the last jazz gig Crowbar will ever see.
And 2,322 days after Gov.
Ron DeSantis ordered nightclubs like his to close due to the coronavirus , the 52-year-old co-owner of Ybor City’s most beloved performance venue looks—for at least a moment—like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
“I feel good,” he adds.
That’s a relief to hear.
DeGeorge’s last six years have been nothing short of a whirlwind.
There was the long road to reopening where he and those fuckers from the then-nascent National Independent Venue Association (NIVA) secured a $15 billion bailout for indie rooms across the U.S.
There have been profiles in national publications , a risky lease extension, the failed bid for Tampa City Council , and a May trip to Capitol Hill where DeGeorge stood tall as lawmakers asked for guidance on how the hell to deal with Live Nation and Ticketmaster.
As guests inside dance around in illuminated jellyfish headwear, DeGeorge says it’s nice to have an atypical Monday crowd in the building.
He goes into the part of his stump speech about how all these folks spent money at surrounding businesses.
His room is an anchor in the district, but navigating the waters has become impossible.
Crowbar is closing, DeGeorge has said, because he can’t afford to do it anymore given the rising costs of rent in Ybor City and monopolistic practices of corporate ticket sellers and venue operators.
“Hosting this was a no-brainer,” DeGeorge explained about the show in front of him.
“Because Dylan understands the struggles that independent artists and creators deal with in modern America today.”
And in the days leading up to this last week, DeGeorge started to realize just how intense closing the door on Crowbar is going to be.
During last Saturday’s Americana hootenanny , and for the last hip-hop patio party the night after, memories from his entire life started to flood his mind.
“It was as close as I could imagine to when somebody’s about to die, and they say they see the bright light, and all of a sudden they’re surrounded by everyone they’ve ever loved.
That’s literally how I felt,” DeGeorge said.
“Every song they sang felt like my heartbeat, it felt like the soundtrack of my life.”
Tomorrow, the club that’s been a haven for local hip-hop will tap the Bay area’s best rappers to set the stage for a shutdown orchestrated by New York emcee Talib Kweli .
Come Saturday though, the countless bands—both national and local—who’ve found quarter on the Crowbar stage will have to seek new life elsewhere.
And next week, as the moving company comes to take the posters off the wall at Crowbar, DeGeorge’s journey, personal and professional, will go on, too.
In spring interviews with CL and filmmakers who just released a documentary about Crowbar ’s exit, DeGeorge said July 31, the venue’s last day, also happens to be the first anniversary of the passing of his father.
In a eulogy last year, DeGeorge called Thomas DeGeorge Sr. his family’s hero.
“If he was afraid of moving on you’d never notice,” DeGeorge wrote.
It was moving on after a tragic incident and the closure of Ybor City’s Masquerade, where he was GM, that led DeGeorge to his own space, after all.
When Crowbar opened in 2006 with a rager headlined by Earl Greyhound, the address had already been home to many failed nightlife endeavours like Jelly Rolls, On The Rocks, Earthquakes, and others long forgotten.
Ahead of that show, DeGeorge told CL that those misses were part of why he and his business partner Devin Norton wanted to go for it.
“I kind of knew that no one had been able to make it work, and I liked that kind of challenge,” he added.
DeGeorge poured himself into Crowbar.
And as pieces of him started embedding themselves into parts of the venue, the room became a living, breathing entity of its own.
“I wouldn’t spend as much time away from my own family if I didn’t think of it as its own life form,” he said.
Safe to say, the devotion boomeranged.
Crowbar’s run has been inarguably legendary.
It’s hosted countless album releases for homegrown acts, pop stars on the rise ( hi, Chappell Roan ), plus massive underplays from the likes of Doechii , Underoath and even Kenny Chesney .
In 2011, Kweli played a no-cover Ol’ Dirty Sundays DJ set that included an impromptu appearance by Mos Def.
Lessons learned at 1812 N 17th St. should inspire other venues as they find their own way.
DeGeorge told CL that he had a chance to extend the lease at Crowbar even further, but the universe was telling him not to.
There’s work to be done at NIVA, where he is the Southeast Director.
Festivals around the country consult DeGeorge for security.
And through his newish company FMAM, DeGeorge will start to book shows at other venues like the emergent Coppertail Brewing loading dock, New World Tampa, and Microgroove.
He’s even hinted at finding a venue that he can own outright so he never gets priced out again.
“It’s the end, and that’s OK, because the future, I think, will be good,” DeGeorge said.
“Everything comes to an end.
Nothing lasts forever.”
And while Crowbar certainly won’t be here anymore, it’s quite possible that DeGeorge—and perhaps the entire Bay area music scene—is just starting to take flight.
Analysis
Hover over highlighted words in the article to view the associated bias or fallacy analysis.