Bars & Clubs

Some gals got all the skills, and local Argentine artist Jimena Fama, frontwoman for the electronica ensemble Tango Conspiracy, has the term "multifaceted" down to a musical science. In the last couple of years the young singer, producer, composer, and guitarist has masterminded three electronic tango, dub, acid jazz, and bossa nova albums on her Maktub Records label. She also performs regularly at sleek venues such as the Delano and Arturo Sandoval Jazz Club; has opened for the likes of Bajo Fondo Tango Club and Jorge Drexler; and contributed much of the stock music used in the 2006 Miami-based documentary La Gata, about a 79-year-old tango-singing diva. Fama is an empress in her own right. With half a nod the charming, soft-spoken artist has the ol' bandoneón players tangoed around her finger and catering to her every musical whim, of which there are plenty. The ching-ching of champagne glasses is about the only sound missing on Tango Conspiracy's latest album, Electro Dub Tango Meets Bossa Nova, one of a series of branded CDs Fama produced for Graziano's Argentinean restaurant chain here in Miami.

The members of Pretty Ricky should be feeling pretty damn good about themselves. After all, it's not every day that a Miami pop group gets to hit number one on the Billboard album charts (they held it for a week). The four brothers — Baby Blue, Spectacular, Pleasure, and Slick Em — have been working for this moment their entire lives, playing virtually every venue in South Florida since 1997. All of that hard work started paying off when the group's 2004 ditty to the thrills of heavy petting, "Grind with Me," became the most requested song in the history of Miami's Power 96. Soon after, Pretty Ricky signed a deal with Atlantic Records, and this year released the top-selling album, Late Night Special. Now the group is riding high with the hit "On the Hotline," a delicious, slow-burning R&B-meets-hip-hop jam with a cool 2007 twist: a story of phone sex with a beautiful lady met on MySpace. This is canny subject matter for a group that understands the best pop should always be fun, catchy, and, above all, up to date with the latest craze.

We've all heard it before: "There is no music scene in Miami." Although the 305 may not be a band-manufacturing machine like Chicago, even elitist naysayers can't argue that the Magic City has its share of laudable live acts. The ubiquitous Spam Allstars have garnered a loyal following playing Afro-Cuban jazz, while the tight-knit Down Home Southernaires appeal to throngs with their indie-pop sensibilities. These and other local bands span a variety of genres including rock, hip-hop, electronica, and more. So what is the one factor most of these groups have in common? They are mostly men. Good thing the all-girl trio known as AKA is around to represent for the ladies. Since 2004 these gals have spread their cute-but-tough look and infectious sound across Miami-Dade's expansive borders. Lately the band has limited its live shows to focus on its first album, Break Free. In the meantime, AKA manages to play a few gigs a month and work on new material. The group is made up of lead vocalist Lori Garrote on guitar, Natalie Martinez on bass, and Nabedi Osorio on drums. Their pop-punk sound is both energizing and haunting; their appeal is reinforced by powerful singing and high-powered beats. An undeniable influence from the likes of Green Day and Alanis Morissette is audible when the threesome drops its sonic bomb. For those in doubt of AKA's staying power, Garrote proudly assures, "We're going strong."

Miami based T-Vice is the undisputed king of the new konpa, a deliciously melodious Haitian tropical blend infused with American pop influences like hip-hop and R&B. Founding members Roberto Martino and Reynaldo Martino have been doing their thing since the mid-Nineties, when they moved to Miami and reunited with their father, Robert Martino, leader of popular Haitian band Top-Vice. Naming their group after their father's, the Martino brothers and T-Vice would soon earn a large following, thanks to a series of innovative pop albums that rejuvenated the konpa movement with English-language lyrics. Hot collaborations with luminaries like Wyclef Jean and dancehall superstar Buju Banton (on the song "Party By The Sea") have turned the T-Vice squad into the new ambassadors of Haitian music. And while they travel the world, bringing their audiences delight with solid konpa hits like "4 Las," there's no greater joy than watching the boys let loose in their adopted hometown. Banm T-Vice Mwen, indeed.

In the Eighties, Carl and Carol Jacobs were the lead singers of the band Shandileer, and they were stars on the calypso scene in Trinidad and Tobago. They came up alongside luminaries like David Rudder and Charlie's Roots, in an era when calypso was still about lyrical content and pushing the music into new forms of expression. Their hit songs "Pressure," "Luv Up," "Scandal," "Savage," and "We Wanna Live" were popular on Caribbean airwaves. But calypso is a fickle and seasonal music. "Home is a sweet place, but it's a small place," Carl Jacobs says. "By the end, we had done every club, every party." To provide for their growing family, the Jacobses moved to Miami. "We just fell in love with Miami," Carl says. "It's like a home far away — a home with green money. It didn't take me long to get work here. Because — and I don't want to brag — the other calypso bands that we met here were on a little kind of tourist level. But we were a professional unit. Our sound was very different." Carol and some of the kids have moved back home to Trinidad, but Carl's residency at Monty's Raw Bar in Coconut Grove has continued. If you stop by the often-bustling waterfront eatery on Friday nights, or almost any time Saturdays and Sundays, you'll find the troubadour with the distinctive green eyes and husky voice entertaining the public. He's now 54 years old, and his hair is turning gray. But his voice is still as unforgettable and resonant as ever. He doesn't play his own hits as often, with his repertoire consisting mostly of calypsofied cover songs. But he plans to start incorporating more of his own material into the weekend shows. He stays young by collaborating with the new generation of calypsonians. His latest album features a duet with Maximus Dan, and a recent experience during this year's Carnival in Trinidad made him realize how much he still means at home: "I played at Machel Montano's big fete this year, and so many young people came up to me after, calling me 'Uncle Carl' and telling me how much they loved my performance. It was so surprising to me. It really is one culture, you know. One country, one music."

You're not officially a punk rock band until you come up with an offensive moniker. A year ago Mekago NT officially joined the club when these Miami thrashers decided on a name that literally translates to "I crap on you" in Spanish. Yet the name is appropriate. Mekago NT'S music sounds like a cacophonous amalgam of frenzied guitar riffs, banshee wailings, and the kinds of groans, grunts, and moans usually heard coming out of the men's bathroom at Churchill's Pub, which is coincidentally the venue where you are most likely to catch Mekago NT performing.

If you're good at what you do and you stick to it long enough, success will come. That's essentially Rick Ross's story in a nutshell. "He's been grinding for a long time, put in work for 12 years, and stayed humble, helping other people in his camp," says DJ Khaled, of 99 Jamz (WEDR-FM 99.1). "He deserves everything he got." Ross is on Khaled's upcoming album, We the Best, scheduled for release in June. (Miami New Times's best rap artist, Pitbull, also appears on it.) Ross, who's from Carol City, finally got the recognition he deserved with his debut album, Port of Miami, which featured "Push It" and "Hustlin'." The album reached number one on Billboard's 200, and also number one on its top rap albums and top R&B albums charts. "Hustlin'" peaked at number seven on Billboard's hot rap tracks chart. The single also received a "plaque bearing a golden cell phone" from the RIAA for selling more than 500,000 ringtones. "His style is amazing, his lyrics — he talks and answers himself in rhymes," Khaled says. "He's the boss. He reps the city so hard."

Whatever you call him — Pitbull, Mr. 305, or his real name, Armando Christian Pérez — this talented young rapper stays ahead of the game. Last October he released his sophomore album, El Mariel, which quickly ranked on Billboard's charts as number one top independent album, and number two rap album. Despite losing his dad and best friend back to back last year while he was writing the record, he kept at his music, eulogizing both in the track "Raindrops," featuring local R&B songstress Anjuli Stars. And when word came down that Fidel Castro was on his deathbed, or possibly even dead, he headed over to the studio and recorded "Ya Se Acabó," with tight lyrics set to an Afro-Cuban beat. The message to Fidel: Shut up, it's over. Luther Campbell ("Uncle Luke"), who gave the rapper his first break, says Pit represents Miami well. He recalls the early days when he would take Pitbull's music to radio stations like Power 96, and they didn't want to play it. Airplay is far from a problem today. Pit's first album, M.I.A.M.I. (Money Is a Major Issue), was certified gold. He's appeared on MTV Tr3's Mi TRL and Univision's Sabado Gigante. But for the rapper, things are just getting started. His next project, a Spanish-language album titled Armando, is slated for release later this year. So what makes Pitbull so specialç For the ladies, it might be lyrics that highlight what he can do with his tongue. For everyone, it's clear: This artist has really grown since his debut album. He works his ass off, and has an uncanny talent for surmounting generational differences when things Cuban are concerned. Now he can't walk the streets of his native Little Havana without being approached for photos and autographs by people of all ages. He graciously obliges, and even signs dollar bills for them. Artistically, versatility is his golden ticket. "He can adapt to any style on any record. He can flip it: fast rap, slow rap. He keeps with the tempo," Campbell says. "His lyrics are incredible; he takes words right out of the air." Armando has paved the way. 2007 is the year of the Pitbull.

Luther Campbell paved the way for Pitbull, Trick Daddy, and Rick Ross. And his fight for freedom of speech, some say, laid the groundwork for performers like the late Notorious B.I.G. and Ludacris. You may remember Luke from his days with 2 Live Crew, when his album As Nasty as They Wanna Be launched a court battle over obscenity that went national. The album was deemed obscene by a Broward judge and led to the arrest of a Fort Lauderdale record store owner, as well as that of the group's members for performing songs from the album, which featured the hit single "Me So Horny." But in a case that went all the way to the Supreme Court, Uncle Luke prevailed. He also got the last laugh, because the publicity helped the album sell more than two million copies. Luke would face the courts again — for copyright infringement — and win. He eventually became a solo artist and launched his own label. He's credited with giving Miami rapper Pitbull (who he says is "like his son") his first break and was a pioneer in spotting Miami's, and Latin rappers', potential in the rap game. "Cubans are our brothers and sisters," he says. "Latinos in the U.S. ... I said, ÔI have to jump on that shit.'" Zay, a Miami rapper now living in Atlanta, recalls, "It was a learning process being around him. He takes you under his wing. He's bigger than just local — he's the pioneer of the South. He stood up for us and paved the way." Today Luke continues to tap new talent. "I don't look for artists every day," he says. "Artists are like girlfriends: Don't go looking for them, just let it happen."

Remember the first time you heard Trick Daddy's "Bet That"ç The track opens with a heavy-duty bassline exploding underneath voices fluttering like an operatic hiccup. T Double D's gravelly voice and Miami lilt are distinctive, so it didn't take you long to realize who it was. And once you did, you reached over to the dial and thought, "Been too long." And yes, it had been too long since the Dade County Mayor had been on the radio with something new. But one listen to the opening line of "Bet That" and Trick makes it clear that shit hasn't changed:Sitting high still riding on the big whips Still fly still grindin' getting big checks Still thuggin' still leanin' to the back You can bet that, you can bet that I ride I shine nigga you know I smoke I drank go loco 22s, 24s how we roll I'm a dunk rider fuhh sho'.

What happens when one of the most widely respected musicians in hip-hop sets up shop in the 305ç Although Timothy "Timbaland" Mosely is a Virginia boy to the core, you can find him chillin' behind gates in a two-story, $8 million compound in Pizzinecrest. And so far, you can go ahead and call 2007 the Year of Timbaland. He spent the year crafting hits for his new best friends Justin Timberlake and Nelly Furtado, and now he's claiming some of the spotlight for himself with Shock Value. Critical response has been mixed to say the least — Rolling Stone only gave it three stars and the New York Times lamented, "There are times when this CD feels more like a compilation, and times when Timbaland goes overboard trying to prevent that." Much of the criticism has been about Timbaland's poorly chosen list of collaborators — bringing rap/rock back by way of duets with She Wants Revenge and Fall Out Boy was a horrible misstep. But gaffes aside, there are some in-fucking-credible tracks on this album that make it more than worth the purchase for forward-thinking hip-hop fans. "Fantasy" is a pitch-perfect fast slow jam, and "Miscommunication" sounds like a lovemaking soundtrack for androids. "Give It to Me" is already burning up the charts, and the star of the album is "Bounce," which features oversexed verses by Dr. Dre and Missy Elliott. Timbaland's residency has already proven to be prolific. Now we're just waiting for Missy to move to Cutler Ridge.

These are hard times for Latin singers. What with everyone playing reggaeton and Latin hip-hop, there's almost no room on the radio for traditional Latin artists. So what's a young tropical singer to doç Adapt, of course. Miami's Andy Aguilera is the best example of the new breed of Latin crooners. After debuting in 2003 with the wonderful bachata-infused Cita de Amor, the Cuban-American vocalist invited Luny Tunes, from the top production team in reggaeton, to help him craft his new record. The result was Reggaeton Bachateo, a tropical bachata album with a modern reggaeton twist. A gifted singer/composer with a voice made especially for ballads, Andy Aguilera excels at bridging the gap between two generations of Latin music, while at the same time revitalizing the good old bachata ballad.

The rhythmic history of Cuban music rests firmly in Lazaro Alfonso's hardened hands. Every Thursday night the conga maestro joins Miami's celebrated Spam Allstars collective and turns up the heat at Little Havana's Hoy Como Ayer nightclub. Those fortunate to see Lazaro let loose will undoubtedly come away with one conclusion: When it comes to Afro-Caribbean rhythms, no one in Miami can hold a candle to Señor Alfonso. A youthful man, Lazaro has an enviable musical pedigree, earning his chops in the late Eighties as a conga player in Havana's world-famous Club Tropicana, where he performed as a member of legendary Cuban band Irakere. In Miami Lazaro has kept busy working on various projects with DJ Le Spam — who confirms that Lazaro is now officially working out cuts for a planned solo album.

As comedy icon/Tenacious D frontman Jack Black will attest, rocking is a serious endeavor, and only the truly righteous should attempt it. Miami's foursome Torche has proven its devotion to the fires of aural bombast. Established in 2005, Torche is the brainchild of lead singer/guitarist Steve Brooks and fellow guitarist Juan Montoya, who, along with Juan Nuñez and Rick Smith, produce the hardest, fastest, no-nonsense riffs in all of Miami-Dade. After making their eponymous debut, the local heroes earned critical raves in the national alternative music press, which celebrated Torche's groove-laden, multilayered sonic arrangements. The last two years have seen the boys hitting the road, touring the States and Europe, and even siring a coveted gig opening for the legendary group Mogwai. Having earned a rock-solid rep as one of the fiercest bands on the heavy music circuit, the members of Torche plan to release a batch of new material later this year, which should make the hometown's metal hipsters misty-eyed.

While some bands like to hide their musical influences, others proudly wear them on their sleeves. Latin rock band Feneiva belongs to the latter group and are all the better for it. Fronted by Miami Beach High alumni Fabian Hernandez and lead guitarist Angel Batrez, the chicos from Feneiva share as much with British band Coldplay as they do with Colombian roots music icon Carlos Vives. Founded in 2003, Feneiva has been hitting local clubs like Churchill's, the now-defunct I/O lounge, and Circa 28. Last year the band's hard work paid off as they scored a coveted weekly gig at Miami Beach's live music club Jazid, where they play original songs like the sentimental slow burner "Te Perdí" ("I Lost You") and improvise live jams in which drummer Victor Kirk, bassist Bruno Mendez, and guitarist Jesus Ortis effortlessly fuse the rhythms of R&B with the sounds of Brazilian samba. The group recently debuted a video for its song "Vacante" ("Vacant") on MTV Tr3s and hopes to release a full-length album that captures the unique Latin vibe of its live shows.

Local thrashician Mess €nger captured metal in two languages last fall when he released his two-DVD, two-CD box set, Monster of Loch Mess. Raised in a land where Alice Cooper, Ozzy Osborne, and Metallica never went out of style, the Guatemala-born artist has metal down to perfection, incorporating distorted guitar riffs, energetic synthesizers, classical violin, and dark, philosophical lyrics into his own signature sound of glam and hard rock.At the insistence of industry gurus, €nger stepped into a studio in 2003 to begin recording a greatest-hits compilation of his works that had already spent years in heavy bootleg circulation throughout Central America, Los Angeles, and Miami. The four-disc indie box comes with music videos, video clips about the making of those videos, and both English and Spanish versions of the album. It features a crazed blend of emotions. Songs like "I'm a Mess" and "Angry Little Angel" have listeners pounding three-pronged fists, while "Mama (I'm Gonna Change)" prompts introspective, child-pose rocking.

Electronic music has come a long way since the days when indie icon Beck sang about "two turntables and microphone." Nowadays it's all about having your laptop souped up with the latest music-making software. In Miami, no one rocks the MacBook Pro quite like PG-13, a.k.a. Paul Gaeta, a DJ/producer with a knack for creating fun and intelligent dance music. Last year was a busy one for PG-13. After cofounding the Miami-based label Circuitree with fellow artist Dam Octo, he released the excellent Seven Songs for My Friends; a record full of intricate electronic bleeps that blur the line between electro and hip-hop. On a recent February night at the downtown Miami club PS 14, he showed off his skills to a mostly local crowd of electronica lovers. Using just his laptop and a synthesizer, PG-13 blended techno riffs with throbbing hip-hop beats, even throwing some Miami Bass rhythms into his eclectic mix. The crowd loved it, but PG-13 didn't notice. He was hard at work looking into his laptop screen, trying to find the perfect beat.

Imagine a world beat band cool enough to vibe in Miami's hottest young clubs and smooth enough to make your easy-listening mom break out doing the samba in the elevator. Since its formation last summer, the Elastic Bond has been expanding its retro-futuristic sound all over Miami's live music circuit and onto Madrugada, a CD that's been making its way into family gift boxes in places as far away and foreign as the Pacific Northwest. Venezuelan producer Andrés Ponce has shown that he has a tight grip on Miami's sometimes-unwieldy musical tastes by braiding together a slick mix of Latin jazz and funk, hip-hop, turntables, and even mysterious wind and rainmaker sections. A rotating cast of local characters is the gel that holds this chilled-out fusion together. Among them: guitar gurus Flero, Zuse, and Buffalo Brown; horn puffers John Speck, Claudio Cruz, and Patrick Converse; and breakbeat sampler and keyboardist Ponce, with satin-lunged Sofy EnCanto, jazzy Jason "Fitzroy" Jeffers, and funky MC Orion on vocals. Yes folks, the day has arrived when your mama comes storming down the hall to yell, "Damn it, dear! Turn that music up!"

When Nadia Turner appeared on American Idol's fourth season — hereafter known as the one that Carrie Underwood won — Simon Cowell lavished praise on her. "In a competition full of hamburgers, you are a steak," the smug Brit smirked after a jaw-dropping rendition of Dusty Springfield's "You Don't Have to Say You Love Me." Too bad this contest is based on the tin-eared response of a whim-driven listening audience that cares more about appearance than talent. Turner made the top eight before she was unceremoniously booted — some say after she rocked a fierce-beyond-words fro-hawk while singing a reggaefied version of "Time After Time." It seems that she broke the American Idol wacky hair curse (although it ultimately didn't work for Sanjaya), and she was ahead of the mohawk comeback. ("I know! It's funny; after I wore the mohawk, I started to see it everywhere!" she says.) Local fans who loved Turner and her fabulous 'fro will be delighted to know that this Miami girl hasn't given up on her dream. It turns out that Ms. Turner has been quite busy in her post-Idol life."Let's see. I did a movie [Lord Help Us, which costars Mad TV's Debra Wilson] that will be released on May 8. I recently cohosted The View with Barbara Walters and Rosie O'Donnell.... The royal family of Kuwait invited me to perform for them for New Year's, so I flew over there and that was exciting. I'm starting my own clothing line ... I've been very busy! I'm a hustler." More than anything, Nadia's been fine-tuning her long-overdue album, which promises to stay true to her funky rock roots. "I was supposed to release this album like three months ago. It's totally a rock-soul kind of vibe.... The only problem with that is, when you go against the grain, people are afraid to take chances. They want to go with what they're familiar with. That's unfortunate." She's actually had well-connected record execs express concern and doubt about finding a niche for a black rocker chick with a mop of fabulous curls on mainstream radio and MTV."My comeback is: Black people are the originators of rock. Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Jimi Hendrix ... we are the founders of rock and roll. We started it, how come we can't have it backç" When the album finally drops, Nadia Turner might not get the love that she deserves from cookie-cutter urban radio stations, but she's definitely not planning on giving up on her ambitions anytime soon. "My mom raised me this way, that things will never come to you, you have to knock and let God open the doors that are supposed to be opened. And I've been knocking at a lot of doors," she says. "I've been told for most of my life that, you know, you have to do it their way. And I refuse to do it that way."

Typically this award goes to a singer-songwriter-guitarist — some guy or gal carrying on the troubadour tradition, like a Grant Livingston or August Campbell type, to mention two worthy contenders. Sometimes, though, talent trumps tradition, and Robert Thomas Jr. has talent to spare. If the name rings a bell, you must have heard of Weather Report, the famous Seventies jazz band. Thomas gained some of his fame for his work with the founders of that group, Joe Zawinul and Wayne Shorter. Thomas (who can, in fact, play guitar, as well as many other instruments from numerous cultures) is a hand drummer. He was born in Miami Beach and is this area's leading jazz light since the passing of Jaco Pastorius (a friend and collaborator). Among Bobby T's many rhythmic innovations is his main claim to fame: sitting at a kit, with drums and cymbals and cowbell, and playing away — without sticks. Look, Ma, all hands! Thomas is also a serious collector of indigenous instruments of all types, most of which he can play with virtuosity. And what he plays is serious jazz. You may not find him playing Thursdays and Saturdays at the neighborhood joint, but you will find him in the music history books.

The name makes us hungry for a Cuban steak sandwich, but the jazz this duo makes is even tastier. Violinist Federico Britos and flautist/saxophonist Bobby Ramirez play jazz standards, Latin jazz, and even a bit of bebop. Ramirez is from Cuba and Britos is from Uruguay, but their music crosses continents. More often than not, the band plays outside of South Florida — so if you see a listing for an upcoming show, check it out.

Lucciano "Luchy" Pizzichini, age seven, glumly kicked a soccer ball on the sidewalk outside a Little Havana steakhouse this past February as he waited for his dad, guitarist Adrian Pizzichini, to finish setting up the stage for rock and reggae outfit Kayak Man. "I hope he lets me perform," the kid sniffed. Asked what song he'd use to open the stage if he could, Luchy straightened up, narrowed his eyes, and said coolly: "Why Don't We Do It in the Road." Surprised passersby giggled at the comment as they meandered down Calle Ocho during the monthly Viernes Culturales ("Cultural Fridays") street fair. But Luchy had an even bigger surprise in store. Those same observers turned on a dime and came running back when a childlike voice suddenly blasted the Beatles number out of the restaurant's patio speakers. Soon a crowd of adults had squeezed its way around the tables to witness Luchy's skillful guitar picking and soulful singing on his renditions of "Suzy Q" and the Pink Panther theme song. It took some coaxing to get the cocky little rocker off-stage for Kayak Man's act, but who could blame himç Luchy has performed some of his 24-song repertoire at venues such as Arturo Sandoval's new Rumba Palace on Ocean Drive. In between scribbling autographs and accepting accolades, Luchy told New Times he'd be happy to offer some friendly advice to the young'uns: "Two hours of practice a day and lessons from my daddy."

What do 50 Cent, Christina Aguilera, and Beyoncé have in commonç They all have sought the golden ears of Miami's top beatmaker/producer Scott Storch, who at just 33 years of age has written a string of hits for many of the top-selling acts in the music industry. From Fat Joe's 2004 hip-hop banger "Lean Back" to Beyoncé's delicious "Baby Boy," Storch's distinctive Middle Eastern-inflected keyboard arrangements have earned him the nickname "the piano man." In 2004 he was named "songwriter of the year" at the prestigious ASCAP Music Awards, whose past winners have included Quincy Jones and Burt Bacharach. Mr. Storch is equally known for his over-the-top lifestyle. Living it up in his waterfront Star Island estate, he reportedly owns thirteen cars (the luxury kind), has christened his yacht "Storchavelli," and briefly dated Paris Hilton. Storch is currently in the middle of a high-profile beef with super producer Timbaland over production credits for Justin Timberlake's 2003 smash, "Cry Me a River." Regardless of the controversies, the main attraction remains Storch's uncanny ability to come up with bouncy summer hits like "Impacto," the new hit single from Daddy Yankee. Which is why high-profile artists head down to Miami when they want to score a number one.

This is such a devious award. Drout (famous as frontman of Miami's premier blues-rock band, Iko-Iko) and Castiglia (a local blues vet perhaps best known as a longtime sideman for Junior Wells) have won "Best of Miami" and all sorts of other awards in the past. They're stunning talents to be sure. And when their paths crossed — well, consider the fate of just one of the collaborations from their 2006 album, The Bittersweet Sessions. It's called "The Ghosts of Mississippi." Castiglia recorded another version for his 2006 album, A Stone's Throw. And soon after that, Joey Gilmore cut a treatment of it for his own album, which was itself named for the song. How good is "Ghosts"ç Gilmore won the International Blues Foundation's award for best blues performance with his version. Drout received the Blues Critics' Choice honor for song of the year. Living Blues magazine put Bittersweet in its top twenty CDs of the year, and "Ghosts" went to number one on MusicChoice. So what's so devious about one more award for Mr. Drout and Mr. Castigliaç While we can't imagine musical life without Iko-Iko (currently on a major tour of the Southeast) and Castiglia, we do want to encourage these two super-talented bluesmen to continue their collaborative ways. After all, we'll need a winner for this category next year, too.

Imagine having to perform your job in the middle of a party — music blasting, people talking and dancing, buzzed eyes focused on you. That's exactly what artist Kiki Valdes does — he paints live to music at events, setting his brush strokes to the tempo. "He uses the energy from the event around him and focuses it on the canvas," says Luis André Gazitua, president of Next in Line, a local networking organization for young professionals, at whose events Valdes has appeared. "He's a firecracker; he just goes for it." The young Cuban-American artist has painted at the Biltmore Hotel alongside Latin Grammy-nominated Locos Por Juana, at Princeton University for the Princeton and Harvard Cuba Conference, and at the B.E.D. club/restaurants in Miami and New York. His style taps into Thirties and Forties avant-garde Cuban art. "There's passion in the person and artwork. When he paints, it's like a fire," adds Gazitua, who owns one of Valdes's "Medusa" paintings, along with two others by the artist. Inspiration for the Medusa comes from a girl Valdes knows. "She has a strong stare. You can't look at her too long," the artist says. "She's like Medusa. When you go into the cave, she looks pretty from the distance, but as you get closer, she's deceiving." Valdes, who is actually good friends with his muse, is all about the transformation of images. When he paints live, he starts with one image, which evolves into something else as the music bumps and the evening progresses. Just when you really come to love the image on the canvas, Valdes messes with you, splashing color on it and starting over. The experience is all-consuming for both him and the viewer. "With him," says Gazitua, "it's hard to separate artwork from the person."

When Michael John Hancock and Brian Robertson took off their shirts, put on their sweatpants, and covered their faces in a rainbow of grease paint, Miami's small cadre of indie rockers would gather and dance. The duo was a mainstay at Poplife and the anchor of the label Sutro Music. They were also really good musicians. Hancock played drums and sang (at the same time, with arms, legs, and vocal cords all performing flawlessly at once). Robertson accompanied him on the synthesizer and sang back-up vocals. It was an unlikely combination, and it worked. Performed in the parking lot behind the old location of Sweat Records, on the stage at I/O, and before a smattering of strangers at Titanic Brewery, ANR's songs were about bicycles, love, and "killing South Beach dead." When their own extensive repertoire ran out during a performance, they would launch into cover songs by the Band or Michael Jackson. They once devoted an entire show to Prince. But then we heard they were going to New York, and then that they had fallen in love with other people, and then, there was only silence. Their only album, ANR So Far, preserves them for posterity's sake. But this was one band that was truly better heard live, for it was a spectacle: Robertson playing the keys, and Hancock pounding out a dance beat while hitting a falsetto that was nothing short of perfection for a room full of people that seemed genuinely moved by the music. It was fun.

First there was the news last May that Os Mutantes, pioneers of Brazil's psychedelic tropicália movement in the Sixties and Seventies, would reunite for one night only in London. (No less a figure than Kurt Cobain had tried to accomplish this in 1993 and failed.) Then there was the news that the band would come to the states for a mini tour — its first ever in this country. Finally there was the news that one of those seven shows would take place in Miami. So score a big one for the Rhythm Foundation and Poplife, two promoters who, for at least one night, fomented a magical mashup of the hipster and tropical music crowds. While original chanteuse Rita Lee was absent, the rest of the founding backbone of the band appeared: Arnaldo Baptista on bass and keyboards, his brother Sérgio on guitar, and Ronaldo Leme on drums. With younger guns hired to fill in, they churned out sunshiney, samba-esque pop with joyous aplomb. The warm, red, and gold setting of the Manuel Artime Theater was, fitting the music, baroque and retro. It was fittingly gorgeous, too.

The Florida Philharmonic breathed its last gasp only months before construction began on the Carnival Center for the Performing Arts. Its instruments had been auctioned off by the time the venue finally opened. It seemed that we would have to make do with the green (though by no means slight) talent of the New World Symphony. But then the Carnival Center's programmers announced that the first professional orchestra to debut in the space would be one of the finest — if not the best — in the country. The Cleveland Orchestra played a series of three concerts beginning in early January and ending in March. The repertoire included Ludwig van Beethoven's Ninth Symphony and Gustav Mahler's First. Also performed before packed houses were pieces by Leonard Bernstein, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, and Argentine composer Osvaldo Golijov. There were lectures about the music, too. But mostly it was the glorious use of a still-unfamiliar space that made the series memorable. In the Carnival Center, the strings seemed to soar, the cymbals crashed with grandeur, and we felt like a city whose cultural offerings were second to none.

Host Howard "Flagga Dupes" Duperly isn't exactly humble about the weekly lineup for his Saturday afternoon show, The Reggae Ride, on WDNA. "The type of reggae I play is what I would call a more authentic kind of reggae — and I say that unequivocally," declares Flagga. His three-hour program features ska, rocksteady, and roots reggae, as well as some contemporary stuff. In fact the DJ — who has hosted the show since 2000, and says he's been on the air for more than fifteen years — arranges each performance chronologically. "Within the three-hour show, I take you on a journey all the way up from the Fifties to the present," he says. "That's why I call it the reggae ride."

First came MySpace and YouTube. Now, there's a new kid in town. If MTV and Google got married, their baby would be elHood.com. This music Website works directly with artists and their music labels. It's actually designed as a tool for artists: They upload their own songs, share photos, announce news and events, and communicate with fans. Web users register — in English or Spanish — and create a profile. Once a member, a user gets beaucoup content — from uncut and unreleased material, to behind-the-scenes news from music videos, concerts, and photo shoots. Users can stream content and customize their profiles and music and video players, but copyright laws prevent downloading. "From day one, we wanted to be more than a social networking site," says Demian Bellumio, CEO of Miami-based elHood.com and Hoodiny Entertainment Group, the site's parent company. Much of the content is exclusive to the site, which is constantly updated with artists' latest projects. Artists often visit the company's studio and do interviews or tape live performances, which are then posted online. "For artists, we are one of the most sophisticated platforms out there that allow them to connect with fans and to track who is listening to their music," Bellumio says. Also new and upcoming: elHood Radio, where users can pick between preprogrammed stations or create their own based on their preferences; and elHood TV, where media partners and record labels will have their own online channels. Video may have killed the radio star, but elHood is bringing him (and her) back.

Steppin' has been called the African-American form of ballroom dancing, and Jim Berry is South Florida's unofficial DJ for the genre. On Sundays at 2:00 p.m. Berry — who is also the sports anchor for CBS Channel 4 — hosts the two-hour weekly show that features uptempo jazz, soul, and R&B. Listeners can hear anything from Maxi Priest; to Spyro Gyra; to Earth, Wind and Fire. Steppin' originated in Chicago and evolved from the Forties jitterbug; instead of moving on every beat, dancers move on every other beat. The style is graceful, smooth, and relaxed — and Berry spins the soundtrack. Even if you don't dance, it's a relaxing listen on a Sunday afternoon.

Since 1991, Kevin Warhaft, age 34, has been working at the Dadeland Mall food court as a janitor. "I clean the tables and the bathrooms. I collect the trays that people leave. I don't mind my day job," he smiles. For the past sixteen years, Kevin has also been hosting local rock radio's most violent program, The Metal Revolution on 90.5 "the Voice," the University of Miami's FM station. "I love heavy metal because it is so evil," Warhaft says. "It is not happy music. It is about having angry feelings. Without this music, I would be dead." Every Wednesday night from 10 p.m. to 1 a.m., tune in and enter Kevin Warhaft's underground world, as the brutal and violent symphony of epic metal oozes out of your speakers. Absorb the vibrating force of the drums beating at machine-gun speed, like U.S. soldiers opening fire on Iraqi civilians. Listen to legendary bands like Dark Throne and Obituary. Hear the lead vocalist growling like Cookie Monster on crystal meth, and realize that this is real rock radio.Hear black metal bands like Emperor and Mayhem, who have a history of burning down churches and committing murder in their native country of Norway (see the book Lords of Chaos for more info). Learn about Florida's own history of metal with bands like Death, Cynic, Nasty Savage, Malevolent Creation, Kult of Azazel, and more. "I love metal because it keeps me going," Warhaft says. "I consider what I do on the radio a very special interaction with my listeners."This program demands respect. Or as Warhaft says, "This music will take you down."

In the beginning, singers were the ones belting out tunes, so they got all the credit. Then producers started getting props, even making debuts on artists' albums. Scott Storch, Pharrell, Cool and Dre — they've all become household names in the same way Christina Aguilera has. But there's one more player that makes a song a hit: the sound engineer, responsible for making the entire song come together, blending vocals and beats to get the perfect mix. Adrian "Drop" Santalla has tracked and mixed songs for artists like Fat Joe and Pitbull — in fact, he engineered Fat Joe's single "Lean Back" (produced by Storch), which was certified platinum. Not bad for a guy who started as a club bouncer, moved up to DJ, and then worked at a jingle house. Much like a high note, he slowly rose to the top, networking along the way and eventually working with big names at Circle House Studios. He eventually branched out on his own and launched UpsideDown Entertainment. Emilio Estefan recently asked him to mix tracks for Celine Dion, Carlos Santana, and Gloria Trevi.

You have to give Slip-N-Slide Records props. For more than a decade this local imprint has been delivering some of the most notorious releases on the hip-hop scene. Founded in 1993 by ex-concert promoter Ted "Touche" Lucas, Slip-N-Slide serves as the de facto home base for the Magic City's hip-hop glitterati. With a slogan that proudly announces, "We are Miami," the label holds a dream team of homebrewed talent such as "diamond princess" Trina, and the new kingpin on the block, Rick Ross. And of course the label's biggest superstar remains the gold-layered veteran Trick Daddy, known for taking songs like "I'm A Thug" into the upper reaches of the Billboard charts. Last year Slip-N-Slide inked a multimillion-dollar distribution deal with legendary Def Jam Records, ensuring its position as one of the best-financed independent record labels in the country. New album projects by rappers Trina and Deuce Poppi promise to keep the club bangers coming for the remainder of 2007.

Blue is the antithesis of big, glamorous clubs and the arrogance, crappy music, and cover charges that come with them. At this humble little watering hole, there's rarely a cover or a line and the dress code is as relaxed as the place itself — which makes sense. If you're going to dance, you need to be comfortable, and the best dance attire doesn't include four-inch designer heels or a stiff $300 shirt. A pair of worn jeans and comfy sneakers will do at Blue. Underground house and techno DJs spin regularly, making Blue the to-be spot for true dance music aficionados. Patrons pump their fists to the beat of the kick drum and chat up a storm, as most of the people who frequent the club are friends and part of a small community of fierce electronic music lovers. Despite the venue's small size, it usually doesn't get too crowded and there's room to dance. While Blue may not share the prestige of its more urbane dance club neighbors, the regulars prefer it that way: low-key and down-home.

Why do we like Joe Dertç Well, because his mashups are Derty, damn it! Not long ago, the Miami Beach Jewbano homeboy was on his way to celebreality superstar status as the drummer for nu-metal band Endo. He signed right before the band went on tour with rock icons Megadeth, which led to an avalanche of accolades and hype for Endo. They hooked up with Los Angeles music producer David Schiffman, the William Morris Agency, and the Firm. As Endo wrapped up its second album, the band was added to the 2003 Ozzfest tour lineup. Alas, Endo was among the casualties from the merger between Sony Music and BMG. Dert (real name Joe Eshkenazi) went back to his old gig: DJing at night clubs. He landed stints at Automatic Slim's and Rokbar before snagging the Saturday-night residency spot at Snatch and Wednesday nights at Glass, where he's perfected his entertaining blend of rock, hip-hop, and funk. Dert can drop an Eminem track behind rock instrumentals so smoothly Dr. Dre would cough up his chronic. Over the past few months, Dert has added Set on Thursday nights and Karu & Y on Friday nights to his growing list of gigs. And that's how we like it, damn it!

Miami has more than its fair share of Latin music hot spots, but they don't get much sweeter than Atarazana Nightclub. For nearly three years this cozy local venue has attracted some the biggest names in the genre. Celebrated for its no-nonsense door policy and roomy dance floors, the reasonably priced Atarazana always spins the tropical standards, while also keeping you up to date on all the latest trends. Fridays are the best nights, with intimate live appearances by local and international stars. Previous highlights include performances by reggaeton king Daddy Yankee (before he was routinely selling out sports arenas around the nation) and Dominican merengue legend Sergio Vargas. Saturdays are strictly for salsa, merengue, and bachata rhythms, and feature El Zol (WXDJ-FM 95.7) transmitting live from 11:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m. Finally Thursdays and Sundays are devoted to the sounds of reggaeton and Latin hip-hop.

From the beach to Little Havana, and even out in West Kendall, the energetic rhythms of salsa have become as ubiquitous as empanada stands and guayaberas. But what of salsa's Argentine cousin, tangoç The venues that play this sensual music are few and far between. Luckily dancer Monica Llobet is taking steps (literally) to help milongas (tango parties) flourish in Miami. Every Tuesday from 9:00 to 10:00 p.m., Llobet gives tango lessons at Amadeus for $10. After class, the lights are dimmed for the milonga, where DJ Lorena follows the tango ritual of playing songs in tandas (sets of three to four songs), followed by a curtina (a break in which a different kind of music is played). Both professional and beginner dancers step to classic tango musicians like Carlos Di Sarli, Osvaldo Pugliese, and Anibal Troilo. Amadeus is the perfect setting for couples to dance and listen to these crackling tracks from the Forties. Decorated with bookcases, chandeliers, and a fireplace, the anachronistic bar looks more like a study in a mansion than a drinking establishment. But when the fireplace is lit and the romantic rhythms of tango begin to play, couples can't help but dance cheek to cheek.

The chic red-and-white motif inside the Catalina is a magnet for trendy types looking for a chill place to enjoy an $8 glass of pinot grigio. But the hotel has a secret appeal that lies in its convenient location and layout. From the outdoor patio, regular guys can stare discreetly at hot chicks in heels hobbling along Collins Avenue without being labeled as that gawking weirdo on the street. A large window adorns the front of the building, extending up to the second-floor lounge and offering a glimpse of Bentleys and limos whizzing by. Model types hang out the window or sunroof, sipping bubbly and making you wish you were the rich bastard next to them. Part of the reason there's so much eye candy near the Catalina is the number of high-end hotels nearby: The Sagamore, Delano, and Surfcomber are all a stone's throw away.

After you've done the prerequisite night at Churchill's (our CBGB), it's time to move on to Studio A. This downtown Miami nightspot is significantly larger than the lovable British pub, and has a superb sound system, so it's more appropriate for the midlevel, touring rock bands that play there. The space also looks nicer — if you like fancy chandeliers and shiny curtains. Elevated sections increase visibility throughout the club, even when the shows are sold out. There's also a full (if pricey) bar, and Studio A remains open for dancing after shows. The only real drawback is the lack of adjacent parking in this sketchy neighborhood. But what the heck. That's part of the fun.

During the high season between January and March, the pristine breeze that courses through the open-air pool deck of the Conrad Hotel is enough to make you forget about the $6 it costs for a Corona. Lush palm trees and chic cabanas line the perimeter of the pool. Sip your beer and stare at the rippled reflection of Brickell Avenue's construction boom in the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that encase the building. Chances are you'll run into folks like the Mexican sugar daddy we met there recently. Decked out in Lacoste poolside gear and slicked-back, jet-black hair, he stood next to three voluptuous, college-age all-American girls: a brunet, a redhead, and a blond. The ladies sported exquisite faux breasts, sultry tans, and luscious curves. Ah, the good life.

At the Fifth, you'll see celebrities, but you'll also be treated like one. That's the customary service of marketing director Gerry Kelly. Just talk to some of the club's VIPs. "You can be in a club with a thousand people and Gerry can give each person his attention," says Donna Preudhomme, a fashion model who recently celebrated her birthday there. Besides the service, this place is luxurious. "Most clubs have a dedicated VIP area," Kelly says. "But the Fifth is actually designed to be a VIP club." The bilevel club offers several VIP areas on both floors, including three private penthouse suites. One of them has a private entrance, valet parking, and a private elevator and minibar (tell Kelly what you like, and he'll stock it with your favorite goodies). It also comes with custom volume and temperature control, for those locals who are always freezing, especially in South Beach club attire. Then there are the restrooms: The upstairs ladies' room has a mini spa with a hair and makeup artist to provide free touchups on weekends. All of this attention attracts the celebs — Paris Hilton, Kate Hudson, Mickey Rourke, and Ivanka Trump. Each has his or her own seven-foot cooler with a corresponding silver nameplate on it. They coolers are stocked with the celebs' favorite bottles (up to 50) so that when visiting, they can grab from their private coolers. "I've traveled the world and have been in clubs in Greece and the Mexican Riviera," says Angela Posillico, owner of Ms. Latina International pageant and a frequent Fifth VIP and Kelly fan. "He has the best VIP area around the world. If they had an award for club owners, he'd get the Oscar."

Maybe the books on Circa 28's shelves aren't for reading (The Y2K Survival Guide and Richard Nixon and His America are among the titles that occupy the diamond-patterned bookshelves.) But from the vintage neon sign outside to the stylishly raw interior, Circa 28's ambitions are in sync with its Wynwood surroundings. Velvet chairs, dim lighting, and ornate chandeliers are the decor on the first floor, where the local art crowd sips cocktails and sways to an eclectic mix of music. During the course of two glasses of wine one night, the bartender/DJ played everything from Blur and the White Stripes to David Bowie, Michael Jackson, and the Cure. Upstairs is a bona fide dance floor, complete with disco ball and small stage, an intimate setting that has made Circa 28 the clandestine destination for afterparties and impromptu shows when bands like the Brazilian Girls and the Rapture are in town. Drinks should be cheaper ($10 for a Belvedere martini; $8 for a glass of Malbec) but it's in a happening neighborhood. For those who work and play among the dark warehouses and weed-choked boulevards of the area, the place is priceless.

Don't be fooled by the name of this establishment. Back in 2001, it was known as Jake's Bar and Grill, a deliberately dim, plush place across the street from Sunset Place that offered a pool table and killer steak at a great price. Now they've lost the "and grill." This might give a passerby the impression that Jake's is nothing more than a typical bar, with customers lined three deep clamoring for drinks, and walls bedecked with flat-screen TV sets. But it ain't. What sounds like it should be a down-home neighborhood joint is actually an elegant, wood-floored restaurant that specializes in new American cuisine and serves fabulous drinks at reasonable prices. The happy hour specials at Jake's are so good that you could pretend that you're just going there for drinks. From 5:30 to 7:30 p.m. Monday through Friday, you can belly up for three-dollar draft brewskis and four-dollar well cocktails. Then there's dinner. Every meal begins with a basket of truly remarkable bread — a mini loaf of warm whole wheat, and four hearty triangles of show-stopping jalapeño cornbread. Each bite is a spicy-sweet revelation. Begin with an appetizer. They start at seven bucks for barbecue basil shrimp with apple-wood-smoked, bacon-roasted sweet corn relish, to $12 for the ahi poke with cucumber relish. Then you can sate your hunger with a healthy salad or satisfying burger. (The Cowboy comes piled high with apple-wood-smoked bacon, barbecue sauce, caramelized onions, and Vermont cheddar. It costs $10.) Or you can man up for Patrick's Special, a hand-cut, sixteen-ounce, dry-rubbed New York strip served with two sides. Get the spicy mac and cheese. For those who like their bar food as fancy as it gets, Jake's also offers macadamia-nut-crusted snapper, roasted Caribbean seafood stew, and duck three ways: a heaving plate of five-spice-lacquered duck breast, duck salad, and a crispy duck spring roll served with soy glaze and sesame-ginger vinaigrette.

With its castle-shape roof, the Round Table certainly lets weary Miami motorists on U.S. 441 know it's the place to quench their parched thirst for affordable libations. Located in an industrial warehouse district about ten blocks away from the 103rd Street exit of I-95, the Round Table has been in business for 40 years. From 4:00 to 7:00 p.m. Monday through Friday, this neighborhood bar offers patrons 50 cents off all drinks — not bad when you consider most drinks hover in the $3 (the ugly stuff) to $5 (the good stuff) range. You can also score Budweiser or Miller Lite drafts for a buck and a quarter. Of course there are some things you need to know before going in to the Round Table. First, you have to ring the doorbell so the barkeep will let you in. Once inside, it's like walking into an old mountain cabin in the Smokies: pinewood paneling covers the interior from floor to ceiling. Two 50-cent billiard tables and a shuffleboard table are next to the bar. Best of all, the Round Table is open seven days a week, from 11:00 a.m. to 1:00 a.m.

Some go to find love, others to drown their sorrows. The rest of us visit simply for a warped refuge from reality. They're dive bars, the true rebels among the shiny, expensive nightclubs and their overpriced cover charges. El Rincon de Quisquella is the epitome of a dive bar in all its dilapidated, seedy glory. Located just south of Opa-locka, it's frequented mostly by locals who live and work nearby and arrive by foot. If you drive, you might never find it, since it's inside an ambiguous, unmarked building. The only signs of life are a green light shining on the door and a security guard, who, on certain nights, is the only one who speaks English. There are cracks in the walls, toilets without seats, coke baggies on the floor in the bathroom, and stains on the ceiling — but that's all part of Quisquella's charm. Be sure to bring cash, since Quisquella's six-dollar cocktails can't be paid for with a credit card. And speaking of booze, the alcohol selection is as shabby as the dive itself: A few half-empty bottles of tequila and vodka sit behind the bar and appear to have come straight from the staff's own private stock. Nevertheless the majority of imbibers stick to Coronas. Around midnight on a Friday or Saturday, the regulars crowd the bar to flirt with the ladies and dance to the DJ's mix of salsa and Latin music. The women are surprisingly agreeable, usually dancing with any man who approaches them. This may be due to the bar's seemingly close-knit circle of patrons. It's hard to say, though — outsiders are watched carefully and should feel honored to catch a glimpse of this bizarro Miami bar.

Catching a Heat game at Seven Seas is almost like watching it at home. The small bar (max occupancy 120) could double for a living room with its tight quarters, wooden warmth, and garage-sale decorations. Some of the old items hanging from the wall and ceiling include baseball bats, football helmets, golf clubs, turtle shells, and a plastic Guinness bottle. An old organ sits next to a jukebox that plays mostly Seventies rock like the Eagles' "Tequila Sunrise." In the side lounge, men seated in chairs and recliners holler at the TV every time Shaq misses a free throw. Even the outdoor patio resembles a back yard, with a wooden deck that looks like it was assembled from driftwood and discarded lawn chairs. On special occasions the staff fires up the grill for good old-fashioned barbecue eats. That's about the only time Seven Seas serves any food — the rest of the time, the bar is strictly booze-only. Despite its homey feel, Seven Seas meets the typical sports bar requirements: dim lighting, TV sets in every corner, and a pool table. But what separates it from the chain bars is its character. Like a forgotten trunk in an attic, the faded Seven Seas interior houses a collection of dusty treasures. Old veterans tell stories of their exploits in Vietnam. Chain-smoking forty-somethings interrupt the low hum of activity with raspy cackles. Saucy gents call the bartender with a lustful twinkle in their eyes. The patrons here would rather not be blinded by a moneyed sheen. In the dusky confines of Seven Seas, they have learned to see in the dark.

With so many foreigners clinking glasses on Miami Beach, you'd think that most bars would carry an extensive line of imported beers — but truly international taps are few and crowded. Because of that, the oddly named X-Treme Cafe has become a favorite with adventurous locals who have stumbled over this hidden gem. X-treme opened a couple years ago in a former raw food restaurant in the no-man's land just south of Fifth. It began as a cafe, but found its true calling when it shifted focus to liquid delights. The large assortment of brew (the Belgian La Chouffe and Japan's Hitachino Nest Beer are good examples) is served by friendly and knowledgeable bartenders. We don't want to tell tales out of school — like that time the two hawt lesbians were getting comfortable on the luxurious couch — but the atmosphere is intimate enough for almost anything to happen. Wine is also available, and most beers and single glasses of wine run between $5 and $10. There are rumors going around (especially on the menu) that they serve grub, but food's what you buy at the supermarket. You're here because you want to drink with the locals, not eat.

We're pounding a $40 bottle of Aguardiente, surrounded by buxom cowgirls with some serious junk in the trunk. Their hips sway seductively and emphatically, as if their gyrations are sending sonic signals to Cartagena. The band plays a sizzling mix of vallenato and salsa that sends electric subliminal sexual messages into our grain alcohol-soaked frontal lobes. We're dressed in ten-gallon cowboy hats and dark denim outfits that blend in perfectly with the hay and wood chips sprinkled throughout Mi Bohio's ranch-theme dining room. The Eighties-inspired mirrored walls and palm-trees-in-the-sunset Scarface mural makes us want to snort lines of blow off the glass tabletop. Instead we scarf on sancocho, pargo frito, and cazuela de marisco. After all, we need something to soak up the spirits sloshing in our gullets.

The downtown tourist area just north of the Miami River looks like a ghost town once the sun sets. But life can still be found inside Tiki Bar after 6:00 p.m. Squeezed in between knockoff clothing and shoe stores, Tiki is situated on the second floor of the Flagler Station mall. If you need help locating it, look up and you'll see "Tiki Bar" spelled out in bright yellow letters on the windows. Tiki offers everything a decent neighborhood bar should: good times, cheap drinks, 14 TV sets, two pool tables, and a place to unwind. When bands aren't rocking out onstage, the jukebox plays hits by the likes of Green Day, the Gorillaz, and more. Drinks are two-for-one every day from 4:00 to 7:00 p.m., and when it's not happy hour, a cocktail costs only six dollars. Due to its central location, the spacious watering hole is the ideal place to meet up with friends for postwork decompressing. A sign that reads "Margaritaville" welcomes you to the bar and hints at the dress code and overall ambiance of Tiki. The tropical vibe continues with a large saltwater fish tank, a hut area with a straw roof, and a friendly staff — which includes owner Esteban Garcia, who can sometimes be heard singing along to Deep Purple's "Smoke on the Water" at the bar.

Aventura's neighborhood bars should reflect the city's lush landscaping, prestigious condos, and high-end malls. And Ivy Aventura certainly does. Couture and cocktails reign supreme at the restaurant/bar/club where, on weekends, well-coiffed rears occupy every seat at the bar. The crowd ranges from locals in their twenties and thirties to fifty-something Porsche owners from nearby Williams Island. Every strand of hair is either flat-ironed or gelled, and short skirts and button-up shirts comprise the dress code. The high volume of patronage requires you to be wary when maneuvering through the small dance floor, as the kinetic, rowdy revelers are usually too involved in dancing salsa to avoid bumping into the nine-dollar drink in your hand. But you can enjoy a more relaxed vibe in the outside lounge area, with its modern designer couches and chic, Asian-inspired decor. Part of what attracts people to Ivy is Aventura's lack of a nightlife scene. Aside from a few scattered sports bars, there's nothing else in the area with quite the same upscale appeal mixed with nightclub energy. Not to mention that the bartenders know how to make a damn good Scotch and soda.

South Miami is anchored by Sunset Place, an outdoor mall and headquarters for sulky teenagers. But the narrow off-roads nearby hold intriguing options for an evening of adult debauchery. For University of Miami students and hip Coral Gables residents, there's no better neighborhood bar than Sunset Tavern. Located on the corner of a cute and cobblestone street, the collegiate watering hole shares a kitchen with the ever-popular Deli Lane Cafe, thereby ensuring some of the finest bar food around. Hungry drinkers can stick to the basics and order up some meaty, messy nachos ($9.95 if you add spicy chicken, which you should), or choose to be snooty and order the pressed duck sandwich with brie, with apricot sauce on the side (at $9.95, a tasty deal). Dinner entrées top out at $15.05, and the options seem endless. The place offers a killer jukebox, stocked with classic rock, Eighties hits, and Nineties alternative (the Breeders, Red Hot Chili Peppers). Besides that, there's a pool table, weekly live music and specials that include Tuesday Karaoke night, Wednesday Wing Night (wash down those spicy bastards with a $10 beer bucket), and Thursday Ladies Night (which is less for loose drinking maneaters and more for fans of The L Word). Sunset also makes a great jumping-off point for even more drublic punkenness — it's within strolling distance of Old Florida-style tavern Bougainvillea's, expensive mall chain Dan Marino's, aspiring club Martini Bar, South Beach wannabe Town, and old man Fox's. If you bring romantic companionship, the evening could take you across the street to a fancy Italian dinner at Trattoria Sole followed by dessert at Soli Organic, or it could wind up in the back alley at BT Gentleman's Club. It all depends on how your date goes.

The game of darts can be quite serious and dangerous, especially when the hard liquor kicks in and you start seeing two bull's eyes. Throwing sharp needles at the dartboard takes concentration and precision, like a drunken ninja. The bartenders at Free Spirits Lounge know how to mix drinks, and they can also throw some darts. "This is one of the best dartboards I've ever played," says Mike Mirabel, as Black Flag blares in the background. He plays darts here regularly. "Trying to score triplets on this board is impossible, because of the way that the railing is embedded into the board." Darts are free. Just ask for them at the bar.

What's great about the Finnegan's jukebox is that it's a flat-panel touchscreen inside a fire engine-red telephone booth, the same type you'd find outside a real Irish pub. So when someone is lurking behind you, breathing down your neck to hurry up your music selection, you can just slide the door closed and stick your tongue out at them. Most of the playlist is a predictable blend of rap (50 Cent and Ludacris), country (Trace Adkins and Willie Nelson), and rock and roll (Lynyrd Skynyrd and Marilyn Manson). But we did find some unexpected gems from Spanish boy-band pioneers Menudo and the great Maná. We were also pleasantly surprised to find tracks by the Oak Ridge Boys, and our all-time favorite hair band: Ratt!

Miami is a playground for the gay male community — from downtown to South Beach, the boys have plenty of places to romp. Unfortunately Miami doesn't offer as many options for lesbians. What's a girl (who loves girls) to do when she just wants to have fun? For starters, look hard. Anam's, an exclusive women's club, is easy to miss. The clandestine bar is located on the second floor of a building tucked between the Little Cuban Museum and a HEARx store on Coral Way. Hidden from the street, the only hint of Anam's existence is its name etched into a glass door in swirling cursive. Stairs are visible from the other side of the door, but what they lead to is a mystery for those not in the know. Inside, dimly lit, stained-glass chandeliers shroud the bar in ambiguity, and faces are hard to distinguish among the shadows. For the most part men aren't allowed in, and the crowd is usually Latin women anywhere from their late twenties to early fifties. Owner Olga Sanchez serves the drinks while her partner, Ana Pou, plays the bongos to the DJ's mix of salsa, bachata, and other Latin beats. The club has a dancing room and a quiet room, where women can retreat to for a more intimate setting. One of Anam's unusual features is an old freight elevator that's been used as a showcase for a belly dancer. There's also an art space that will be put to use for future events.

Twelve years ago Melissa Burley was an overworked and underpaid teacher in Miami-Dade's public school system. She supplemented that income with a job at late-night taco institution San Loco, located within stumbling distance of Mac's Club Deuce, Miami Beach's most venerably liquor-soaked bar. Within no time Ms. Burley found a new hangout and a family of fun regulars. She spent a lot of time on the customer side of the bar. "I used to always ask Mac, 'When are you gonna hire meç'" she recalls. "One day it was raining and I asked him again. And he replied, 'What're you doing tomorrowç'" As they say, the rest is history. Burley's friends, the regulars, helped her learn the ropes — "because the customers know the bar better than the new bartenders," she laughs. In the decade that Melissa has been tending the Deuce, Miami Beach has been through bouts of popularity with Eurotrash, model types, ravers, and the hip-hop glitterati, and she's been slinging cocktails through it all. She may not be the most instantly chummy bartender you've ever had, and to hell with all of that Tom Cruise Cocktail bottle-flipping bullshit. She's a no-nonsense blond who serves her drinks strong and fast. Along the way she's adopted some basic bar rules for both tender and customer. Rule number one: "The bartender should never be drunker than the customers." Rule number two: "You always want to befriend your bartender. Cause we know a lot of things about a lot of people." Melissa is also keeper of the Deuce's legacy. She created the bar's MySpace page (www.myspace.com/deucebar) and updates the Deuce Screen of Fame, a photographic retrospective of debauchery and nudity that takes place in the darkened, historic establishment. If you're lucky (or acting the fool enough), you'll get your picture snapped as well. The scrolling images feature regulars and newbies, and it's heavy on locals and light on famous faces. "We only put famous people in it if they're into it," she says. "We've got Johnny Knoxville in there, I think. Often we just leave them alone. The slide show is funny whether you know the people or not. It's about the crazy people and the stories that take place. Like when Tara threw the iguana." Normally an evening in which a live iguana is flung across the bar would be one of those you-just-had-to-be-there stories. Thanks to Melissa's quickness with the camera, the moment was captured for posterity. And she needs to be quick, because who knows what can happen nextç

Fox's is where serious booze hounds do their thing. No better place for James Bond's favorite drink than this cozy, dimly lit, circa-1946 joint. Sit at a wood-paneled booth or just sidle up to the bar. The old pro behind the counter will make you a mean martini (the "dirty" version is a knockout here). Depending on the label you ask for, it'll set you back $6 to $10 — or about half the price you'd pay at a South Beach spot with half the personality. That leaves money for ... another martini. And if you go during happy hour (4:00 to 6:30 p.m. Monday to Saturday), or from 11:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m. Tuesdays and Saturdays, drinks are two for one. Which means ... more martinis!

Mixing a bloody mary sounds easy. Just some vodka with tomato juice, rightç But it takes some serious skill to make a good one. A bad one may taste like ketchup and Skol, or bitter shrimp cocktail sauce. Some bartenders make it so spicy that your lips will burn. The perfect bloody mary can be found on the seventh floor of the Four Seasons hotel, in the heart of Miami's financial district. The hotel's upscale and classy bar is called 14-Thirty-Five, and its bloody mary is intensely refreshing. The bartender uses Absolut Peppar, a vodka made specifically for a bloody mary. The Absolut is mixed with a unique blend of tomato juice, horseradish, basil, rosemary, and pepper. Order it on the rocks, add the twist of lime, and there you go. Not too spicy, but just enough to clear the sinuses. Outside the bar area, there's a stunning view. Enjoy.

When it comes to cocktails and the places that serve them, details matter. Dirty martinis require just the right amount of vermouth and olive juice, while decent bars thrive on atmosphere and quality service. All things considered, Cielo has the right ingredients to make it the ideal place for relaxing with your drink of choice. Beads hang from the windows, creating the illusion of a sparkly blue waterfall trickling over diners and drinkers. Suede barstools and white contemporary sofas look as if they were inspired by the creamy softness of a white Russian. The clientele and ambiance scream wealth, but rest assured that at $9 for well drinks and $12 for premium cocktails, you're getting your money's worth — the staff is both attentive and well versed in the art of mixing drinks. Live Latin acts take the stage most nights, but a quieter experience is still available with a simple reservation. In the wine room, patrons can dine and drink in a glass-enclosed area supplied with wine racks and a high-def i. Those who opt to chill at the bar or in the lounge area will quickly see that the patrons at Cielo are as pretty as the décor — and remember, the only thing that makes a good cocktail better is the environment in which it's enjoyed.

It's you on the stage, kickin' verses about your life. Just you, the band, a microphone ...oh yeah, and those hot-ass lights. You peer out into the crowd and the faces staring back seem to be standing at attention. Oh, this place is fly. The mood is right, they dim the lights. And the stiff drinks help to ease your tension. You've been working on this sonnet, this haiku, that rhymeYou punked out last week,But the ever-vivacious Ingrid B pulled you out of your shell this time.And here you are.Listed under your nom de plume.It must be Wednesday NightOpen mike nightAt the Bohemia Room.

Miami's nightlife scene is undeniably fickle. Just think of all those clubs closing and opening like the legs of a pantyless celeb caught on camera. Wait, that's not right — there's nothing fickle about Paris, Lindsay, and Britney's ho antics. That stuff is permanent. But seriously, the one thing you can always count on (at least in Miami) is variety. And with so many options, why stay in one club all nightç The biggest nightlife destinations around 305 tend to cluster in proximity to each other, making it easy to hop from one place to the next. If you're downtown, you can start the night off chill at PS 14 (28 NE Fourteenth St.) and then take it up a notch by heading two blocks south to Pawn Shop (1222 NE Second Ave.) or one more street down to Twilo (30 NE Eleventh St.). On the beach, Mansion (1235 Washington Ave.) and Cameo (1445 Washington Ave.) are within walking distance, while the chic Nikki Beach (1 Ocean Drive) and elite Privé (136 Collins Ave.) are just a short cab ride away. If partygoers still have fuel (or drugs) to burn at 5:00 a.m., Space (34 NE Eleventh St.), Nocturnal (50 NE Eleventh St.), and Cafeteria (546 Lincoln Road) are just some of the clubs on the after-hours sampler platter — and it won't cost you even a gallon of unleaded.

Long live Jazid, the bastion of live music on Miami Beach — perhaps the only venue that assures a live performance every night. Once upon a time, there was a variety of venues at which reggae fanatics could find live vibrations at least one night a week. Now Kulcha Shok Reggae Sunday nights at Jazid keeps the heartical flame burning. The weekly jamdown is put together by cool-dude-about-town DJ Lance-O, who mans the ones and twos in the club's upstairs lounge. The Kulcha Shok crew, rounded out by Jr. Lee and Mello D, keep the crowd happy with classic boom shots from Barrington Levy, Dennis Brown, and Jacob "Killer" Miller, all while keeping things fresh with the latest from Cham, Collie Buddz, and Niyorah. Downstairs you'll always find a skilled live band enthralling a writhing audience. Starting weekly at 11:00 p.m., 4th Dimension, Sweetbone, and the ever-energetic Fitzroy fling their dreadlocks and share progressive, bass-heavy riddims that transport fans back into the work week. The crowd is diverse and friendly, the vibes are irie, and admission is free. It really can't be beat.

Yeah, yeah, Churchill's is a great place to drink beer, shoot pool, smoke cigs, look surly, and show off your lousy acting talent — but it's also got one hell of a jazz jam. Monday nights are what you want. The music starts around 9:00 p.m. and includes a performance by a band, followed by a couple numbers on the keys from "Piano Bob." Then, 'round midnight, it's the after-hours jazz jam, hosted by bassist Mike Wood, who's led the event for the last five years. Whether you bring an instrument or go just to listen, it's a lively scene with lots of energy, an appreciative audience, and some primo music.

Nowadays, when it seems like even the corner bodegas in South Beach demand a cover charge, it's reassuring to find a hangout that caters to low-rent locals. And it's even better when said spot has a kick-ass karaoke night. Thanks to Felt, the friendly and nonpretentious billiards bar on Washington Avenue, the community's would-be singers have a karaoke night to call their own. Every Tuesday evening, Felt hosts a no-holds-barred sing-your-heart-out night. You won't find any velvet rope attitude here, but you will certainly run into plenty of jukebox heroes willing to rock out to their favorite songs. But be forewarned: You never know who's going to strut in and treat you to a round of covers. Just two months ago Vince Neil (lead singer of Motley Crue) got down to Journey's megacheese classic "Loving Touching Squeezing," and, you guessed it, sang an alcohol-fueled karaoke rendition of what else but "Girls, Girls Girls," his band's heartfelt paean to South Florida strippers. What more could you ask of a karaoke nightç Well, drink specials start at five dollars and there's no cover. However you better be able to hold a tune. These regulars take their karaoke seriously.

You might be wondering: Is it a gas station, a restaurant, or a barç It's really a combination of all three. This former Texaco station has been converted into an elegant Middle Eastern eatery that specializes in alfresco dining, an experience formerly unheard of on bustling Kendall Drive. You can indulge in all of the traditional cuisine of the region — we recommend the beef shawarma platter, which costs a mere $11.99 and comes with delicious roasted meat, lentil rice, hummus, pita, and a salad. Although Michael's is a cafe, it functions just fine as a bar. The restaurant's owner, Michael Touma, made the most of the gas station's built-in glass-door fridges. Now Michael's offers what may be the finest beer selection of any Middle Eastern restaurant in the region. A sixteen-ounce Tucher costs a mere $3. Every night is hookah night, and on Fridays and Saturdays the typically calm scene is transformed into a live music and bellydancing haven, with a bevy of damsels in spangled clothes spinning and gyrating around the tables where gas pumps used to be.

Only in South Beach does a nightclub experience a short-lived revival during Winter Music Conference. Such is the case with Shine at the Shelborne Hotel. It opened in late 2005 under the helm of nightlife veteran Gerry Kelly and techno music extraordinaire Jonathan Cowan. The place was divided into four environments, from a swanky lounge with handcrafted rock walls; to the ballroom where the hard-pounding house was played; to the "Terrace Café"; to the poolside retreat, complete with beds, hammocks, and torch lights. But the club had a contentious existence as condo residents hammered the city to shut down Shine's weekend parties. In April of last year, Shine held its closing party and Kelly moved on to another nightclub venture. Yet during the halcyon days of WMC 2007, Cowan resuscitated Shine for some of the most outstanding electronic performances in town. Greats like Todd Terry, Kenny Dope, Miguel Migs, Frankie Knuckles, and Satoshi Tomiie took to the decks that, for at least seven days, brought the Shine back to Collins Avenue.