BY DATHAN KAZSUK
Welcome to Chapel of Bones—where the coffee is as black as your soul and the riffs are heavier than your last existential crisis. Tucked into Raleigh’s shadowy underbelly, this isn’t just a music venue—it’s a cathedral for the damned by night and a caffeine cult by day. If you like your lattes with a side of beats, you’ve found your church.
At the helm of this glorious madness is Steve Sommerville—metalhead, musician, and now, high priest of the Triangle’s underground scene. His mission? To resurrect the spirit of The Maywood, the beloved metal venue that met its untimely demise in 2020.
“Maywood was my place,” Sommerville says, his voice soaked in nostalgia. “Both of my bands played their first gigs there. Hell, I lost my front teeth in a D.R.I. pit at that place.” When The Maywood shuttered its doors, the void wasn’t just felt—it echoed.
But Sommerville didn’t wallow in the silence. Fueled by distorted chords and an unhealthy amount of coffee, he vowed to raise a new temple of metal. With his brothers Timmy and Andy, Steve found his chance when the old Maywood spot—gutted and ghostly, being used as Trophy Brewing’s storage—came back on the market. “I hit up the owner, gave him my pitch, and here we are,” Sommerville says, grinning like a man who’s seen the abyss and decided to build a bar there.
The name Chapel of Bones wasn’t plucked from a metal lyric—though it could’ve been. Sommerville’s inspiration came from a visit to Evora, Portugal, where he stood inside the Capela dos Ossos—a chapel lined with human skulls and bones, a not-so-subtle reminder that death comes for us all. “It hit me hard,” he recalls. “I wanted the venue to feel the same—a place where none of the outside world’s [stuff] matters. Inside, we’re all just here for the music. Equal in death. United in distortion.”
But Chapel of Bones isn’t just a haven for headbangers. By daylight, it morphs into a coffee sanctuary, brewing organic, custom-roasted magic thanks to a partnership with Fortuna Coffee out of Greensboro. “We tried 20 different coffees until we found the right roast,” Sommerville says. The coffee bar runs Tuesday through Friday from 7 a.m. to 4 p.m. and weekends from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.—because metalheads need caffeine, too.
True to form, the drink menu reads like a death metal setlist. “The first one I named was Scream Bloody S’more, after Death’s classic album,” Sommerville laughs. “Then there’s Chai by the Sword—a Slayer shoutout.”
Behind the espresso machine is head barista Andy McGirr—part coffee alchemist, part musician. “The guy’s a mad scientist with pour-overs,” Sommerville says. McGirr is no stranger to the Triangle’s music scene, either, juggling shifts at Chapel of Bones while playing in local bands like Antiquity and Hubris.
As the sun sets, the venue unleashes its true form—a full-blown music hall complete with a bar serving beer, cocktails and THC seltzers. “I partnered with New River Distilling Co. in Boone for the THC drinks,” Sommerville explains. “It’s organic cane sugar, clean mountain spring water and capped at 5 milligrams of THC. We treat it like alcohol—21 and up.”
And the music? Loud. Fast. Unrelenting. Chapel of Bones has already gained a reputation for booking national, regional and local acts with a heavy metal slant. “Our first big show was a full day of death metal with Incantation, Exhumed, Skeletal Remains and Ringworm,” he says. “It sold out. That’s when I knew this place had a pulse.”
Dante Gaeta, Sommerville’s operations manager and a seasoned veteran from Revere, Massachusetts, is helping keep the blood flowing with a black belt in booking bands and breaking down barriers. “It was a struggle at first,” he admits. “Bands book a year in advance, but we’re finally pulling in bigger names.” Bands like Tribulation from Sweden, New York City’s Castle Rat and Florida’s Genitorturers have already graced the stage at Chapel of Bones.
Still, it’s not all blast beats and growls. Sommerville knows Chapel of Bones needs variety to thrive. “We can’t do metal every night,” he concedes. “We host goth-industrial dance parties, burlesque shows and yeah … even Taylor Swift dance nights. The Raleigh burlesque community is wild—they’re like the metal scene, tight-knit and unrelenting.”
For all its dark decor and guttural screams, Chapel of Bones welcomes everyone. “Sure, the name might make some people clutch their pearls,” he smirks. “But we hire friendly staff. If someone walks in not knowing a thing about metal, I want them leaving saying, ‘The people were cool and the coffee was killer.’”
Chapel of Bones is more than a venue. It’s a battle cry. A sanctuary for the misfits. A place where death metal meets dark roast and outsiders become family. Whether you’re banging your head to blast beats or sipping a Scream Bloody S’more, one thing’s clear: At Chapel of Bones, the music always comes first.
Because in the end—as the Capela dos Ossos reminds us—we’re all just bones.
