Before there were eight-tracks, cassette tapes, compact discs, and MP3s, vinyl ruled Miami.
Throughout the '50s, Dade County's coin-operated jukeboxes were run by the Mafia. Old-school Minneapolis gangster Sam Taran was a key figure. He and his cronies set up shop in every hotel lobby, shine shack, whorehouse, and dive bar from Miami Beach to Goulds. A shiny dime bought you two songs — just long enough for a barroom brawl, knife fight, dry martini, or a quickie with a hooker. Meanwhile, department stores such as the old Burdines on Flagler and an appliance retailer called Philpitt's were just about the only places an average Joe could buy those golden sounds. Record stores hadn't really been invented yet.
Later, during the '60s, '70s, and '80s, albums were huge — culturally and physically. The cover of a long-player was big enough to roll ten fatties, smash a rail, or count out a month's worth of Quaaludes. (Plus the sleeve was a work of art.) And though albums aren't quite as huge in this decade, an active roster of professional record junkies — DJs Induce, Benton, Mr. Brown, and Manuvers — will pay tribute to the world's greatest musical storage medium at Workshop Collective this Saturday as part of the Wynwood Second Saturday Art Walk. The party will also feature a live set by Miami's meanest rock 'n' roll canines, Talking Dogs.
Yeah, vinyl still rules.
