Thought of the day
I wonder if Broward County is eating up the veritable Cambrian Explosion of tech house, or if they're just about to discover dubstep.
I wonder if Broward County is eating up the veritable Cambrian Explosion of tech house, or if they're just about to discover dubstep.
Well it appears that the age old Transit Lounge in Brickell, known for its live shows and odd variety of patrons, is closing for good. The landlord has lost their foreclosure battle with the bank and the property will be vacated soon.
Transit was never my favorite place -- had a few too many odd incidents there -- but I do recall some good memories slouched at the filthy bar. It's always sad when Miami loses an option for those desolate nights, and doubly so on Brickell which desperately lacks places to hide from the douchebags.
There will be a final event in late June to say goodbye. Transit Lounge is located at 729 sw 1st Ave.
Jeff McInnis has left Gigi and that is the end of the place.
He reportedly had unresolvable differences with the owners which centered around how to grow the business without losing its value and uniqueness. The powers that be were eager to branch out into other locations and other culinary niches, straying from the "Southern BBQ Asian" that Gigi has defined the market for. Jeff, being a stubborn genius and perhaps not totally full of shit, did not see Gigi Sushi 2 Go and Gigi Grilled Cheese Food Truck as worthy strategic objectives.
The Miami way of things guarantees that one person in charge gets greedy and ruins it for everyone else and this is no exception. Without Jeff there is no Gigi. Gigi's spark was its unique cuisine: unpredictable, trendy but not trite. The former head Sous-Chef de Cuisine, who is defining a new menu to be launched next week, has an impossible task ahead of him. He is a fiddler on the deck of the Titantic.
One of the few interesting things to emerge in the past year of Miami's tumultuous club scene is Bar, the meek, liberal spot next to Vagabond that has become the default after party spot for just about everyone that has the good taste to leave the beach.
It's as minimal as the name implies, refreshingly so, completely without the pretentiousness that South Beach has developed to shield its ego. There is no milk behind the bar (I don't even think there are olives). The crowd is a weird mix up of whiny artists, street thugs, punks, skaters, tackily-dressed bicyclists and Kendall graffiti legends. It's underground enough, far from the tourist brochures, that you don't get the homophobic Phillistine jackasses of Purdy Lounge. You might leave with a paint stain on your shirt from one of the rotating art exhibits, or haphazard jewelry made by a bum, or a head full of Jean-Michel Basquiat.
Bar is the least annoying spot in Miami and the only place worth going five times a week (though they're open all seven days if you are truly passive aggressive toward your boss). It's done more to change downtown Miami by not trying, without the hype and bullshit and lies, than anyone else in the past year. And tonight they're celebrating -- as we all should -- that year with a DJ set by indie rockers No Age.
Bar is located at 28 NE 14th St.
We've been promised this for years but it looks like it finally might happen: downtown Miami getting a 12 screen movie theater. The Herald has the full story.
Well, this isn't pleasant. Apparently some of our charming criminal residents of Miami have decided to vandalize the mural outside of Vagabond. Check out the pics from @creativemafia:
Update: And here are the smiling guys that did it.. anyone know them?
Update: Apparently they're actually members of a New York graffiti collective called IRAK that have performed these kinds of hijinks before. If anyone has spotted them around town, please notify The Vagabond directly.
SUPPORT LOCAL ARTISTS!
Be sure to pop in and check out local boy/my fav bartender at Twist- Frank Ciliberti's showcase tonight at DWR on Lincoln Road.
OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!
Parties Parties Parties!
Sweetie Darling Sweetie Darling!
More champagne, more people, more, more, more...
Ah yes, the Basel Juggernaut is upon us. I don't mean to sound jaded, but I'm really not feeling the hype this year. I blame it on the fact that all Basel wardrobe options are being nullified by this god forsaken heat. Cashmere, cocktails, and 80 degrees do not mix as well as Me and the Westboro Baptist Church. I'm crossing my fingers that Mama Nature gets in gear and cools us down a bit (word is a cold front is on the way) in time for all the festivities.
In effort to fake it till I make here's a list of events that are tickling my fancy...
The Vogue Lounge at the Raleigh Hotel (opening champagne reception tonight 7PM)
Mark Ronson at LIV (Wednesday)
Metric at Collins Park (Wednesday)
Vice Mag Party at Coco DeVille (Wednesday; rumor had it that the xx was doing a DJ set but it's been denied. Still worth checking out- just in case)
Scope Miami: The Night Event: by Artists Wanted (Thursday night)
Wynwood Walls Expansion Opening Party (Thursday)
Fuck Art; Let's Dance- Get Physical Party- Electric Pickle (Thursday)
Friends With You "Rainbow City" (Thursday)
Veni Vedi Vici at Eve (Friday Night)
Have fun kiddies and beware of creeper Europeans!
As the busiest time of the year for well known DJs and musicians, WMC talent is booked months in advance. For some reason this year the official conference has decided to move the event to the beginning of March instead of the last week of March date that usually holds. All the satellite parties such as Ultra and the hundreds of others (300 last year) now have to decide if they'll change dates and fuck up their existing contracts or plow ahead with a late-March party that may balkanize the entire scene. Implications of this are rippling through the electronic music world and we'll keep you posted as things sort out.
I gotta say, whoever is running the show at Miami International Airport may not know much about how to lay out a concourse, but they sure know how to stock it with shitty shops. Apparently the next phase of airport commerce (we already have a Sushi Maki and Books and Books) is the Shops of Ocean Drive. I'm not even kidding about this.
This all sounds too good to be true. Like a dream: one of the ones where a very old woman is giving you a massage, her hands like floppy sandpaper, worn rough from years of hard labor in some Eastern European shithole where hard labor is the only labor there is. Too old to even tell how old. Beyond the regal passage of years and melting, crumbling toward death.
You're in some anonymous setting, white, light wood, face down on a mattress. She's there, over you, her hands so strong, yet frail. Strong bones, knowing muscles. She's over you and you can smell her, like an old sofa from a thrift store, plus a scent you associate with dollar stores. When she leans in to get at your shoulder blades and the stiff tendrils of muscle under them, knotted from your own sophistication, she's wheezing "sooo tight." You catch a fleeting note of the smell of her mouth, hidden under wrinkles and drooping lips, even the collagen giving out now. Yellow teeth. Old food. And then she touches your shoulder, lightly at first, then insistently. She is in a hurry. She is turning you over. Your pulse quickens.
Sorry, went off on a tangent there. Diplo is at Bar tonight. You must attend. Unless something tragic happens -- plane crash, hurricane, fire -- this is going to be an amazing party. There is no cover. Well drinks are $5. Bar is located at 28 NE 14th St.
Spotted on Facebook:
I want to do my little part to end an ongoing fallacy in the nightlife scene, this time repeated by the endlessly-uninformed @TommieSunshine:
What a great night last night at XIX. Small, intimate rooms are the new super club.
No. A small, intimate room couldn't pay someone like Tommie to play on a regular basis. Less square footage means fewer patrons means less revenue. Liquor licenses are expensive, lawyers are expensive, talent is expensive, rent is expensive. Small clubs don't make money -- real money, fuck you get me Diplo money -- and even if we all close our eyes and root for the little guy, nothing will change the economics.
Looks like all of you faithful readers are saved! Researchers have determined that filthy stinky drunks live longer than teetotallers. Praise science!
Its stock price has fallen from $14 to 75 cents and it's $120 million in debt. This may be the end for the beleaguered brand that did so much to define the face of the American indie scene.
More progress in downtown after many months of stagnation. The Herald reports that a Russian businessman is planning to open a restaurant and bar inside Marina Blue, the building across from the American Airlines Arena. 5,000 square feet of retail space that close to the Arena at $400 a square foot? Sounds like a sound investment to me considering how insane things are going to be once basketball season starts.
Somehow, two dudes got Four Loko to sponsor their birthday party at White Room. They'll be giving the stuff out free all night.
If you haven't heard of Four Loko, it's some kind of ungodly combination of Sparks (the deadly energy drink with alcohol gratuitously added to it) and Absinthe. I know what you're asking yourself: what could possibly go wrong in this situation? Exactly.
Cheap drink specials all night ($6 for a beer and a shot) and music by Al B Rotten.
For more details and bonus points, check out White Room's unusually terrible new website. Weirdness.
All around this great nation of ours different cities have big summer events that draw large groups of people to gather and celebrate any number of things- many of which are known as "Summerfest", including a rather large and well known live music festival in Milwaukee, WI.
This is nothing like that.
For the third year in a row Summerfest 2010 is taking over South Beach. The folks behind Miami's Winter Party in conjunction with Pink Dollar Enterprises are coming together to put on this fabulously fun event to beneifit the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force.
Now you know how the gays do mija... 5 events in three days.
The kick-off event (Friday night 7-10 pm) doubles as a shopping event at Creative Male in at the Shops at Midtown. Let me break this down for you: complementary cocktails + (male) hotties showing off swimwear and underwear. Mmmhmmm... exactly.
Bueno pues, it's Saturday and you have your tanga all good to go. Follow the beats to the marquis events of the weekend- "The Summerfest Pool Party" at The Hotel Victor. Oyeme when I tell you that this is one sopa de maricon that you do not want to miss. If last year's event is any indication of what to expect, then I'm going to be the first loca in line.
Longtime friend and South Beach fixture DJ FR8O will be spinning along with DJ Charlmix. Admission gets you two drink tickets. VIP's get access to a private poolside VIP lounge area and bar, gift bags, and the official Summerfest ’10 CD, compliments of DJ Charlmix. The party goes from 1- 6PM. VIP Admission: $35 in advance/$45 at the door; General Admission: $25 in advance/$30 at the door.
The party keeps going later that night at Score for "Summer Storm" with DJ's Miik and Eddie Alias (NYC). Admission: $10 in advance/$15 at the door. Things wrap up on Sunday at the gay mecca known as The Palace.
For more details including tickets go to www.summerfestmiami.com
PRESALE TICKETS END WEDNESDAY AUGUST 18, 2010 at 5PM
Complete Event Listing after the jump.
Aside from the flesh-peeling temperatures and perm-inducing humidity, this summer has been pretty amazing so far. We've had tons of great acts roll through contrary to the usual Curse of Miami Summers.
Tonight, Oh-Wow Gallery (which, incidentally, is the #1 Google result for 'oh wow' -- when you're #1 for a generic age old english phrase, you know you're ballin) presents their newest exhibition Dadarhea. Here's how they describe it:
Welcome to DADARHEA. An idea born from an absurd dream involving pee filled supersoakers and deep fried laptops. It's a dadaist pizzeria. It's idea-rhea. It's the video art equivalent to fantasy island - where Devin Flynn is the Mr. Roarke to Jim Drain's tattoo.
I have absolutely no fucking idea what that means, and it's not just because when it comes to art I'm about as sophisticated as a monkey fucking a football, but I think that means there will be a lot of video screens and random happenings. That's my high-level description of the event.
After that, if you aren't too intellectually and emotionally drained from the pee filled supersoakers, Justin Martin from Dirty Bird Records will be DJing at Electric Pickle. Justin Martin has an unusually perceptive taste in music. His recent Essential Mix on BBC Radio1 was one of the most inventive (without being flip) and listenable mixes of recent memory. I'd almost go as far as say he has a soul but he's quite white so I'm hesitant. Electric Pickle is located at 2826 N. Miami Ave, but you already knew that.
Sundays in Miami have been pretty weak for years now. There are the old stand-by parties: Set and Nikki Beach, both attracting thousands of bill-crunching house heads; and Purdy, attracting the near-homeless and the incapable of ironing or showering. Bella Rose's Sunday offering was the only thing that targeted a somewhat different audience, with somewhat stylish (or at least off-kilter tacky) people and unusual creative direction.
Enter Black Division. Long time local promoter Andrews Lorenzana and his team of misfits are bringing us a new party for our rainy Sunday nights. The location is Kill Your Idol, 222 Espanola Way, which formerly housed Blue (much missed) and Dr. Feelgoods (not missed at all). Music provided by Tommy Gunn and Al B. Rotten. Click here for the Facebook invite.
It's been many months since I've run across any music worth featuring on this site. Wallowing in the fetid waste runoff called club music, toxic side effect of commercial and industrial processes too horrific to even mention, I felt lost and alone, unsure I'd ever hear anything to get excited about again. Until this:
It's has what makes house work: minimalism, honesty, a touch of inner-city sadness, the haunting waft of emotion. Not self indulgent or embellished, just music driven by feeling.
The Miami City Commission, under questionable circumstances, has approved 40 story tall animated advertising towers to go up next to the Arsht Center. On one hand I'm disgusted for obvious reasons: what could be more tacky and obnoxious than something of that size blinking at me all night long? On the other hand, this neighborhood is a total disaster anyway, so if anything at least it will be.. funny. And more light, especially pink blinding light at 3am, means fewer chances for bums to shadow-shank you.
Someone got paid big bucks to figure out which are the gayest cities in America. Surprisingly, and some what disappointingly, Miami is way down at #20. I suppose this researcher isn't factoring popper-related frenzies or sales of leather chaps into his equations because I can't even walk down Lincoln Road in a D2 crop top and my embroidered "Fuck Moi" denim shorts without getting eye-sodomized by muscular pigbois every ten feet.
Photo: The unusually stereotypical vision of gay life in Miami presented by the article. SUPERSOAKERS!
There's been yet another FFFFUUUUUUuu moment for those of us trying to live in the crumbling landscape of Downtown Miami. The Metromover, which I love dearly, is now out of service indefinitely following a minor accident on Tuesday evening.
The Metromover transit system has been suspended indefinitely until federal investigators can determine what caused a crash between two Metromover cars that left 16 people injured Tuesday afternoon.
All day Wednesday, commuters who normally travel on the transit system that transports as many as 26,000 people each day had to take shuttles to their destinations. Some said their commute had doubled and even tripled as a result.
Since they apparently have no idea when it will be back online I guess we'll have to resort to our usual means of transportation: running the fuck away from vicious, thieving zombiebums.
Oh, and there's also a hurricane coming to kill us all and mutilate our bloated bodies.
Update: It's back in order!
I first had the privilege of meeting artist/sculptor Aisha Blakey close to 5 years ago. In that time I have come to regard her as one of the most honest, unique, and talented people I've met. When she isn't holding down the fort at Kid Robot, she spends her time sculpting. Her recent shows at Micheal Perez Art Gallery in Midtown have garnered numerous fans, and most recently sold her notable installation sculpture "56B". Aisha is a home grown artist who majored in Sculpture at the University of Florida. I recently sat down with her to get some perspective on her work and perspective. See our Q&A session below the fold!
Before the 3 readers left get into an great fashion tizzy; yes, everyone has the right to wear whatever the hell they want. The question I usually have for most is "what mirror (if any) do you have hanging in your room" Alas, some recent outings have had me scratching my head at the decisions some poeple make with regard to apparel. As such, I began to jot down some of my own guidelines/advice/thoughts about style.
Ready to put on your fair weather Heat fan outfit and celebrate Lebron James' decision?! Here are some suggestions:
Matthias Tanzmann from Berlin at Electric Pickle. Wait, stop, I know what you're thinking: when did Mr. Tarkanian, the boss from hell start DJing?! But no, this is a different consonant-strewn foreigner. You can catch him on Youtube doing his international thing - it's housey, techy, fun. And the party is only $5.
Crystal Cadillac at Rokbar. This local-for-now band seemingly came out of nowhere and has played just about everywhere lately. Check them out tonight and bring along some of your transsexual friends because it's open bar for feeeemales from 11-12.
The Miami Herald has an uncharacteristically interesting article about the year 1980 and the mass upheaval that it brought to Miami, including the Mariel boatlifts and the Liberty City Riots.
The opening quote sets the tone:
Angela Martínez remembers the bumper stickers: ``Will the Last American to Leave Hialeah Please Bring the Flag?''
Pretty amazing to remember that much of Hialeah was white until recent times.
Tonight is the second Saturday of the month which means, of course, Wynwood Art Walk. If you're like me, you gave your British chauffeur the day off to celebrate soccer hooliganism in all its forms, so you have no one to drive you around from gallery to gallery in the Rolls Royce -- everyone knows it's low class to drive yourself around in a Phantom -- and thus you'll be sweating like a porkchop in this ridiculous heat.
Check out the 20(12) Group Exhibition at Miami Art Space, 244 NW 35th St, featuring the work of Johnny Robles, Reinier Gamboa; Kiki Valdes, David Tamargo, George Sanchez-Calderon, Johnny Robles & David Marsh, Brian Gefen, John Sevigny, Raul Perdomo, Alvaro Ilizabe, Eric Torriente, and Oliver Sanchez.
If you haven't suffered heat stroke yet, or any other kind of stroke (paid or gratis), consider checking out Poplife's 11 year anniversary at Grand Central, 697 North Miami Ave, featuring The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, Surfer Blood and Hooray for Earth. I don't know who those bands are but I'm going to pretend, if asked, that I really enjoyed them during my heroin years. I suggest you do the same.