There’s something deeply charming about seeing your city sneak into the frame of someone else’s art — like Tampa getting a cameo in the new Tennis video for “Take Me Somewhere.” It’s one thing when a music video is shot here for convenience; it’s another when the city’s atmosphere becomes part of the emotional geometry of the song.
“Take Me Somewhere” is already a track that floats — all salt-air harmonies, gentle indie-pop sway, and sun-bleached longing. Tennis has always had that dreamy, ocean-warmed aesthetic — like a cassette tape left on a dashboard in July. But pairing that sound with beach-side visuals and hazy Florida light feels like a secret handshake. It’s like the band is saying:
We get it — this is what summer feels like.
The video opens soft — a subtle frame that looks like a Polaroid coming into focus. Waves, dunes, bikes with skinny handlebars, wind-lifted hair, the kind of candid shoreline shots that feel vaguely nostalgic even if you’ve never lived near a coast. But for Tampa people? It hits different. The bay is instantly recognizable — that shallow horizon, those pastel skies. The light is unmistakable — that slightly damp, slightly golden brightness that no West Coast beach can fully replicate.
The band moves through scenes loosely — not performing, not acting, just existing. Light interactions, sunlit glances, quiet smile-flashes. It’s almost anti-cinematic — in the best way. There’s no narrative urgency — just presence. And the camera treats Tampa like a trusted friend — not a backdrop, not a gimmick, not a tourism ad. Just a landscape with personality.
The way Alaina Moore’s voice drifts across those visuals — it’s like wind threading through palm fronds. She has this gentle buoyancy, paired with a slight emotional ache that always feels just beyond articulate. The chorus — “Take me somewhere, take me somewhere” — doesn’t play like a command; it plays like an invitation whispered into sunlight.
Watching the video, you start to realize: Tampa isn’t just featured — it’s felt. There’s a warmth to it that’s familiar to locals: the kind that sticks to your skin, makes time feel slower, stretches an afternoon into something almost cinematic.
There are little visual details that Tampa residents will clock instantly —
the bleached pavement
the cracked-paint railings
the wavering heat shimmer off rooftop surfaces
the way the palms lean in certain directions based on certain prevailing winds
Maybe most people won’t analyze those things. Maybe they’ll just see “pretty seaside footage.” But those of us who live here know: that’s not just any seaside. That’s home turf.
One of the best parts of the video is how it refuses to glamorize or dramatize the setting. There’s no heavy color-grading, no forced “vintage aesthetic.” The beauty is natural — understated. Which mirrors Tennis’ sound perfectly: clean, breezy, unfussy, heartfelt.
When the bridge hits, there’s a shot of a lone bicycle leaning on a railing next to a strip of weather-beaten sidewalk — and it may sound ridiculous, but that might be one of the most Tampa-coded frames in indie-music-video history. It’s like you can smell the salty concrete.
Watching this, you can’t help but feel proud — seeing Tampa Bay drift through pop culture not as an anonymous stand-in for “some generic beach” — but as itself.
This video isn’t flashy. It isn’t plot-driven. It isn’t trying to become viral spectacle. It’s a vibe — a mood — a crystallized emotional temperature. And that’s exactly why it works.
After watching it, you don’t think:
“Wow, great location scouting.”
You think:
“I want to go outside. I want to feel that light. I want to be somewhere.”
Whether Tennis intended it or not — they didn’t just capture Tampa. They captured the feeling of wanting to be carried away by something gentle — something kind — something warm.
And if a song can make Tampa feel like both a destination and a dream — that’s something worth celebrating.