Bars & Clubs

Tango music is meant to be seen and heard. The tango fest, an annual nine-day extravaganza, features the best in tango music from Buenos Aires. This year the festival will grace the Deauville Hotel, and the Orquesta Gente de Tango will play live sets every night. The bandmates promise such a vast repertoire that they won't repeat a set even once over the duration of the festival. In their off-time, the Gente de Tango members will give clinics to aspiring musicians. But that's just one element of the music: Not only will you get to hear incredible, authentic milongas, but also you can watch tango greats such as Eduardo and Gloria Arquimbau (of Tango Argentino and Forever Tango fame), Fabian Salas and Carolina del Rivero, Osvaldo Zotto and Lorena Ermocida, and other legendary couples perform flinty boleos, graceful ochos, and romantic tango waltzes. Single women who wish to dance get an extra boost: This year there will be ten "Taxi Dancers," those sexy Argentine tangueros who will switch partners to keep everyone's feet busy. If you can't make this year's festival (May 26 to June 3), check out the music and dancing at founder Lydia Henson's Tango Fantasy Milonga at the American/Czechoslovak Cultural Club (13325 Arch Creek Road, North Miami) from 10:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m. every Saturday.

A native of New Jersey, Terri Weisbert has spent the past seven years behind the bar (and sometimes helping out on the floor) at Flanigan’s Seafood Bar and Grill in Coconut Grove. In 2005 Terri, who sported a lifetime’s worth of glossy coal-black hair that fell past her waist, had it chopped to a buzz and donated her long locks to make wigs for children undergoing chemotherapy. This year Terri organized and helped sponsor a 26-mile marathon for runners of differing abilities. One of those who completed the course was Terri’s twin sister, an able-bodied athlete.

What is your greatest triumph?

It's vain to call it a triumph, but I feel great when I forget about myself and get involved in causes for other people, even though it's them who help me. And of course every day I spend in Miami -- with our beautiful beaches, great weather, and wonderful assortment of people -- makes me a winner.

On a humid Saturday night, the svelte bodies corralled behind velvet ropes on Washington Avenue wait like sheep. For a few hours every weekend, the doorman assumes the position of a god, saving a few wretched souls from the hell of mediocrity by permitting them entrance into Miami's nightlife heaven. The rest of the would-be clubgoers are deemed unworthy for their lack of money, designer clothes, affluence, or fake boobs, and they disappear into the gloomy fog of rejected revelers. But there is salvation for those tired of chi-chi clubs with pompous door attitudes and hollow patrons. The Aquabooty party does not subscribe to any of the beliefs from the SoBe bible of upturned noses. Far from the megaclubs and megaegos that dominate a few miles south, Aquabooty has found a homey haven in Glass at the Forge. Although most parties fizzle out like flat soda within a year's time, Aquabooty has kept the spirit of house music alive for five years strong, which is like 50 in party years. House-heads have Joe "Budious" Gray and Tomas Ceddia to thank for the infectious beats and topnotch guest DJs. Beyond the realm of promoting, Gray and Ceddia have been drilled in the day-to-day management of running a nightclub. "We've owned our own clubs, we've signed all the checks, we understand what it really takes to run a business, and that's been able to equate to what we do," explains Budious. In addition to business smarts, the Aquabooty boys' success can also be traced to their preference of intimate, low-key parties and smooth house music over massive commercial blowouts. "[Aquabooty] was never a commercial venture," says Ceddia. "We're not going to let anyone consume us so that we lose sight of who we are and lose our autonomy." Right on. Patrons partying it up at Aquabooty don't have to worry about traffic, lines, parking, or discrimination at the door. "If you're a high roller, there's a $5 valet," jokes Budious. In addition to a stress-free ambiance, the bootylicious duo books some of the hottest DJs in the industry. The roster of guest DJs includes Osunlade, DJ Harvey, Danny Krivit, Neil Aline, and Miguel Migs. "We're reaching that reputation where DJs want to play our party," beams Budious. The pair has found that the keys to success are based not on profit and marketability but keeping it real with good music and a welcoming vibe. "We book stuff we really love; we only work with people who are cool and who we connect with on a personal level," says Ceddia, who sums up the driving force behind five years of fond memories: "The love of music."

Magnum's unadorned concrete exterior walls hug a corner on the 79th Street Causeway and leave the impression of nothing more than a local dive. But like all diamonds in the rough, Magnum's bland façade is a stark contrast to its lush, romantic interior. The décor is red like painted lips that leave a trace of their kiss on a crystal goblet. Further accentuating the lusty theme is the pervading darkness that shrouds strangers in mystery as they sip their cocktails under a curtain of shadows. The dim atmosphere and piano player make Magnum seem as if it has been untouched by the outside world since Rat Packers ruled the bar scene. But alas, that isn't Bogart in the corner booth, sipping a gin and tonic. Revelers nostalgic for that old-school plush intimacy not found in today's ever-popular sports bars can step into the past through the back-door entrance, where clandestine conversations and stiff cocktails make vintage souls feel at home. Cool cats on a budget can enjoy $3 margaritas every Sunday after 5:00 p.m.

The reggae-ska trio Kayak Man has been rocking steady this year, opening for the U2 tribute band UV, competing in the Latin Funk Festival's Battle of the Bands, and offering weekly shows at I/O. The band's sound is fresh yet nostalgic, with influences ranging from old-school Bob Marley to Manu Chau. The bandmates have also been known to stroll Ocean Drive, humming Beach Boys songs when they thought nobody was listening. Kayak Man's playful music is accompanied by light, wistful lyrics about love, lust, and the challenges poor dishwashers face in scoring hot, high-maintenance girls in South Beach. The band, which hails from South America, hopes to release its first album this summer, a perfect accompaniment for those lazy days of sunning in the sand.

It's Thursday night, and outside Scully's Tavern a bevy of bearded, leather-clad bikers can be seen smoking cigarettes and knocking back brewskies as they admire the line of motorcycles surrounding the entrance. Some of the hogs sport as much bling as a tricked-out Chevy Monte Carlo, but most of them keep with the classic Harley look. Inside, burly dudes wrap their arms around their beer-swilling sweeties while singles eye-out potential hookups. A few scattered punk rockers can be found enjoying the classic rock tracks among the bandanas and mullets. Someone requests a salsa song and the crowd gets more hyped than it was for "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown." They may be bikers, but this is still Miami and there's no lack of representation for the Hispanic community. All of those pitchers of beer show their effect when the DJ drops 69 Boyz's "Let Me Ride That Donkey." The girls drop down like they're riding their bikes over a bumpy road while the guys hoot and holler. The shenanigans begin at 9:00 p.m. and there's never a cover, but always a good time.

The bloody mary comes in a variety of manifestations, from tepid tomato juice to lava with a celery stick. Any decent bloody mary must meet two criteria: It must be large, and it must be spicy. Archie's excellent concoction ($7.50) comes in a pint glass (garnished with an eight-inch celery stick, of course) and contains enough pepper to bite though not enough to scald. Archie's austere version of this classic drink is simple and delicious. And it gets you drunk. If you're planning on consuming two or more of them, you should probably accompany the liquor with some of Archie's excellent food (try the grilled chicken and couscous).

Yes, yes, Sasha and John Digweed killed at Winter Music Conference, Ti‘sto's parties are great fun if you can get in, and Desyn Masiello and the guys in Deep Dish are hot. These turntablists and many, many others make Miami a DJ mecca. Yet even though these elite are in Miami frequently, they are not from Miami and are just as likely to be in Amsterdam, Los Angeles, or Buenos Aires as they are at Space. You're not going to run into them in the produce aisle at Publix; they're not going to buy you a drink after you fight with your boyfriend at Glass. This cannot be said of Deejay Smeejay, who is in the house and in full effect every day and every night right here in our city (and who will get you that vodka tonic before the first tear smears your Manic Panic mascara). Smeejay has what you might call "residencies" at the Marlin and at Automatic Slim's, and he plays lots and lots of private parties for everyone from jewelry emporium Teno to Ocean Drive magazine. His playlist varies depending on the venue, his clients' instructions, and his mood (he sometimes reads the New York Post during particularly introverted sets). But Smeejay is the real deal, a guy who came up through the days of mixing twelve-inch vinyl of the Barkays and Danse Society with each disc's beats per minute marked in red ink on the label. He has easily segued to digital with nary a second of nostalgia, keeping him a viable player. And Smeejay is happy to share; he regularly dances his ass off at clubs all around town, giving love and appreciation to today's superstar DJs as well as lending a hand to the up-and-comers. Oh, yeah, and he donates his talents each year to the White Party and other charities benefitting those less fortunate. Rock on, Deejay Smeejay.

Although the Bang! Festival this past November didn't blow up like organizers had hoped, those who did show up, and stuck it out until the end, got their money's worth. Looking like Cirque du Soleil on acid, New York-based electro-pop group Fischerspooner was the antithesis of the stand-and-spin DJs who had been working the turntables all day. The band and back-up singers appeared first in kaleidoscopic unitards. Then lead singer Casey Spooner was wrapped in white, gauzy bandages, which dancers then unraveled. Costume changes, stage antics that included climbing scaffolding, and general flamboyance -- Spooner and his entourage never let the energy level dip below 500 bpm.

Punk/indie-rock show promoter extraordinaire New Art School began this series early last year in the hope of giving local bands and local artists alike some face time. While each show boasted a different theme -- a Guided by Voices tribute, for example -- one factor remains constant: These events are always packed. There have been five to date, and be on the lookout for more. Someone who takes the initiative to celebrate music and art -- in the same place, at the same time -- certainly deserves a high-five.

La Covacha is Spanish for "The Shack," which is fitting, because this Latin dance club in Doral is, well, a big-ass shack. The only difference between this oversize tiki hut and your typical shanty is that this one tends to draw hordes that are willing to stand behind a velvet rope and wait in a line to get in. Waiting to get into a shack? Velvet rope? Once you're in on a Friday night, between 8:00 p.m. and 5:00 a.m., it'll all make sense. The shack is actually a huge club space, where the whole crowd dances, hot and sweaty, to the sounds of live superstars like Andrea Echeverri, local Latin rock bands, or one of the many regular DJs who spin anything Latin and danceable. Even if you move like a complete idiot, the crowd is so large and the environment so friendly you'll feel totally unselfconscious (a couple of the happy-hour drinks will help too). If you get hungry from all the booty-shaking, La Covacha's full kitchen offers traditional Cuban cuisine. The cover is $10, and you must be 21 or older.

Even those blessed with an ironclad constitution will find themselves hacking from the stench of spilled booze and cigarette smoke ripening this dimly lighted joint. And that's while standing on the sidewalk before venturing inside. This seedy storefront establishment may not be much to look at, and those tarantulas and hedgehogs displayed in the pet-shop window next door do pass for kissing kin to regulars at the watering hole, but then you ask yourself: Why is it always packed? Hungry? Forget about it. Feel like dancing? Stay away. Lost the job and want to drown your sorrows with that last ten spot before hitting the skids? Cheer up -- the hooch fairy always smiles on the piss broke at this throwback paradise for the down and out. Best of all, this dive is open 21 hours a day. Day in and day out the Rock serves up three well drinks or domestic beers for five bucks a batch until 8:00 p.m. and at a cheaper-than-fuel $2.50 each after that. The place draws a mixed crowd -- from your pickled zombies, to your natty business dudes stretching the budget to make alimony payments, to the rare fading beauty scoping you out with her twitchy come-hither gaze. A half-dozen TV sets and sports fans ready to scrap over stats at the blow of a whistle keep the din deafening. An occasional raid or a panhandler cozying up for a free beer adds to the decidedly skeevy charm. It's difficult to think of anywhere else in town where you can be a good sport and buy a stranger a round with your last dime, and maybe for all the down-at-the-heels patina, that's why the Rock keeps reeling them in.

Where else in Miami can you strap on your character shoes and castanet the night away with Sevillian flair not once, not twice, but three times per week? For years the quaint Spanish tavern has put on its fabled House of Flamenco nights Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. At 8:30 and then again at 10:30 p.m. you can watch the stomping or even pound your little corazón out. But don't get up if you have two left feet; otherwise a wily dancer might rope you into the performance. To keep the good vibes going, try the knockout, not-too-sweet sangria. And to keep your strength up, choose from an array of Spanish delights -- from tender paella to juicy, garlicky shrimp. The biggest feast here, though, is a ravishing display for the eyes and ears: powerful vibratos from the singers, soulful guitar work from musicians such as Paco Fonta, and passionate, fierce footwork spilling out from under skirts' lollipop swirls. Olé!

Girrrrrl, don't start spiraling and spilling your cosmo, because Twist won again! Have you checked out the competition recently? Seriously, give us a venue that can out-fab this legendary labyrinth of all things gay and we will happily give her a twirl. But as far as we are concerned, this South Beach staple is the reigning queen of the gay bar scene. What other place -- for the price of, well, nothing, because Twist never charges a cover -- delivers seven bars that span two floors? Not to mention a bountiful bevy of hunks. But the drama-free door policy is not what packs the fellas in night after night: Try two-for-one beverages on Thursdays; Friday's parade of sexy bods shedding their layers and flexing their assets in the Cabana Bar in back (fondly referred to as the dollar store, uh hum!); a game room complete with pool tables should you feel the urge to partake of some testosterone-induced sporting action; female impersonators, including the infamous Adora; a hip-hop room; and drinks served in real glassware (not plastic cups like some places we know whose patrons cannot be trusted with glass for fear they might cut their knees, if you know what we mean). Open seven days a week from 1:00 p.m. to 5:00 a.m., Twist -- unlike many of Miami's gay bars -- also encourages something near and dear to almost every gay man's heart: the fag-hag. And in the words of Margaret Cho, we were there for you at prom and we are still here now. So order us another cosmo and meet us in the dollar store. Mama's going window shopping, sweetie!

It normally strikes around October. But sometimes it happens, unexpectedly, in the summer: "Edelweiss" starts buzzing in your inner ear, an intense yearning for a juicy bratwurst, and a pint of frothy German beer. To cope with such cravings, head to Coral Gables. Okay, the Gables doesn't have even the faintest whiff of Munich or Bonn. But simply enter the cheery Fritz and Franz Bierhaus. Here German entrepreneur Harald Neuweg has created a nice little haven for expats of the Faderland. Affordable, tasty food includes: bratwurst ($4.25), stuffed cabbage ($14.95), schnitzel dinner ($16.95). Most important, though, is das bier. Dinkelbach, Paulaner, Tucher, Warsteiner -- Fritz and Franz has more than fifteen options daily. You can treat yourself and crew with the two-liter Harry's Biermaschine ($25.00), or a standard run stein of pilsner ($9.95). Or, for your designated driver, the girly stein is $3.75. Also you can watch the Bundesliga (German football league) at Fritz and Franz for maximum Deutsch-ness.

For five dollars (zilch if you're a museum member), you can drink from a well-stocked open bar, pick at tasty hors d'oeuvres (e.g., chicken satay and prosciutto-wrapped melon) proffered by roving waiters, take in live music or a DJ, and chat with artsy people. As if that weren't enough of a draw, the event, which goes down the third Thursday of the month from 5:00 to 8:30 p.m., is held on the breezy Philip Johnson-designed plaza outside the museum. It's one of the best deals in town.

Although you can catch jazz at various locations around the city these days, there's only one place to hear consistently high-caliber jazz every night of the week. Upstairs at the Van Dyke, an institution since its birth along with the Van Dyke Café in 1994, continues to wow crowds with a well-rounded lineup of talented players who come from around the globe and span styles from samba to Southern roots. In addition to out-of-towners such as the legendary Slide Hampton, Eddie Henderson, Frank Wess, James Moody, and Randy Brecker, Upstairs features a rotating cast of regulars such as Sammy Figueroa and His Latin Jazz Explosion, Grammy-winning jazz violinist Federico Britos, and recent additions singers LeNard Rutledge and Beatriz Malnic. Don Wilner, former principal bassist for the Miami City Ballet and well-respected jazz man in his own right, runs the joint and sits in frequently. Wilner attributes the club's success to its "happy medium" of avant-garde and straight-ahead jazz, its location in the popular Van Dyke Café on heavily trafficked Lincoln Road, and the unfailing support of café owner Mark Soyka. Jazz aficionados can order from the café's full menu, with appetizers such as bruschetta, crabcakes, and quesadillas from $6.75 to $14; entrées such as fresh ravioli, poached salmon, and goat cheese pizza from $9.25 to $24.75; sandwiches; burgers; and a full bar. Unlike many live music venues in Miami, the cover charge is modest and there is no drink minimum. "Basically I think all we're trying to do is get the music paid for," Wilner says. Shows begin at 9:00 p.m., 10:30 p.m., and midnight. Sundays through Thursdays the cover is $6; it's $11 Fridays and Saturdays. Check the online calendar for upcoming shows and special events.

The great thing about Jazzumentary, which you can hear from 7:00 to 8:00 p.m. every weekday on 88.9 FM, is that it changes format, rotating one of five different syndicated shows every day. On Mondays, it's Portraits in Blue, hosted by famed blues producer Bob Porter, who will enlighten you with his vast knowlege of lesser-known blues greats like ZZ Hill and early rock and rollers like Fats Domino. Tuesdays it's The Humble Farmer, which showcases jazz from the Twenties to the Fifties, music you might hear over the opening credits of a Woody Allen movie, like the sounds of Bob Wilber or Django Reinhardt. The witty volunteer host, Robert Skoglund, is full of observations and stories, some of which are about the music, many of which are about his trying to lose weight or something he saw on Good Morning America. Wednesdays it's JazzSet, a mix of classic and contemporary jazz, hosted by Grammy- and Tony-winning jazz vocalist Deedee Bridgewater. Bridgewater showcases greats like Count Basie and the Wynton Marsalis Septet. Thursdays is the Peabody-winning program Jazz from Lincoln Center in New York, which features exclusive live concerts from America's premier jazz performance series, as well as special guests. The Lincoln Center concerts are organized by Wynton Marsalis and are hosted for broadcast by 60 Minutes correspondent Ed Bradley. Every Friday "Listen Here!" comes live from Chicago, with all the latest jazz releases. The hosts are Mark Ruffin, an Emmy-winning jazz correspondent for Artbeat Chicago on WTTW-TV, jazz editor for Chicago Magazine, music editor for the alternative weekly N'Digo, and a producer of jazz recordings and events; and Neil Tesser, a former adjunct professor in jazz history at Northwestern University.

Half of this CD jukebox's playlist is what you would expect in an American Legion hall, generally a venue occupied by octogenarians. Thus the juke is well stocked with crooners (Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin are here) and country standards (Merle Haggard and Hank Willams make appearances). But the surprising thing is its eclecticism. Perhaps because this Legion hall is only one of two open to the public, there are some uncharacteristic choices, like R.E.M.'s greatest hits, Modest Mouse, Smashing Pumpkins, and the Pixies. There's even a Funk's Greatest Hits CD (check out the look on the geezer at the bar when "Atomic Dog" starts up).

If you are going to get up on a stage and sing Dolly Parton's "Jolene" in front of 250 people, you want it to be the right kind of environment. You want bawdy but not loud. And while a part of you wants the crowd to watch, it's something of a relief to see them distracted in a game of pool. Most of all, you want cocktails, and you want them cheap. Our Place has this and more. Its karaoke nights on Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday attract one of the most diverse crowds in town, ready to belt out hits in English and Spanish. Most drinks are less than $4, and Thursday is two-for-one for the ladies. Releasing your inner Celine Dion is free.

In the heart of Allapattah, a rather unglamorous storefront bathed in the Dominican Republic's red-and-blue national colors has long been a gathering place for Miami's true salseros and merengueros. These are people willing to endure the occasional thug brawl or carjacking just so they can grind to the pulsating music of La Banda Gorda and Los Hermanos Rosario. Here you'll encounter a sort of summit of the Americas, as Cubanos, Boricuas, Dominicanos, Colombianos, and everyone else from the Western Hemisphere gyrates to Frankie Ruiz and Elvis Crespo. You'll notice that the men are dressed in the Latin club standard uniform of irridescent long-sleeve shirts and dark dress slacks. Watch them as they -- using their lightening-fast hip-shimmy-shaking -- try to woo the voluptuous women in tight spandex club gear. Club Típico is open Friday through Sunday from 10:00 p.m. until 5:00 a.m.

A lesbian bar is difficult to find south of the Broward County line, but fortunately for women who love women, Miami's ongoing parties compensate for the lack. On Fridays, for an $8 cover, Pandora Events joins forces with Ultra Events for Cherry Pie at Club O'Zone, where girls can dance to house music and salsa, play pool, and sip two-for-one drinks from 10:00 to 11:00 p.m. "Please dress to impress," reads the polite flyer. "Our gay gentlemen friends are always welcome." On Saturdays, ICandee Productions runs Siren, at Creme Lounge, located directly above the boy party at Score. Siren's soundtrack changes from week to week, ranging from hip-hop to house to rock to Brazilian. There's a $6 cover before 8:00 p.m.; after that, it's $8.

Cuban-born Jorge Gonzalez Graupera, a.k.a. Jorges, might just be the hardest-working musician in Miami. After his band the Brand, which was founded in 2002 (and was Jorges's first live music venture), broke up in 2004, solo artistry became a necessity, so Jorges picked up his acoustic guitar and began playing on his own, quickly realizing he didn't need anything but himself. "I'm all about simplicity. When you just hear the voice and guitar, you're hearing songs in their purist form." Jorges, age 32, is constantly performing his interesting pop/rock love songs live, usually at PS 14, Churchill's, and I/O. He also recorded an excellent album, Possibly Now!, completely on his own, at home on the computer, which you can (and should) buy at his shows. Jorges's diligence has paid off: His song "Girlfriend," which female audience members mouth during his perfomances, has been played on the hit television shows Summerland and One Tree Hill as well as on various MTV programs. He also tours as much as possible. "When I'm on tour, all I want is to make enough for a $40 room and something to eat. Sometimes it doesn't happen, so I'll sit somewhere with my guitar, put my hat out in front, and make up the difference." Check out myspace.com/Jorges for show dates and times.

Despite its location amid million-dollar bayfront condos and a bunch of tanning salons and expensive cafés on South Beach, Dewey's Tavern, which is nestled on the corner of Ninth Street and Alton Road, does not wear the fancy pants. Instead Dewey's is a tight, cozy little hole-in-the-wall, one of the few places on the Beach where you won't find anyone wearing a $300 T-shirt. According to the staff, the tavern is rarely crammed with customers, usually just a relaxed local crowd that comes for happy hour weekdays from 4:00 to 7:00 p.m. to get two-for-one well drinks, two-for-one wines, or a beer for $3. If you think you're like Paul Newman in The Hustler, you'll love Dewey's $5-entry-fee, winner-take-all pool tournaments every Tuesday night beginning at 6:00 p.m. And for those of you who like to get drunk and embarrass everyone else, karaoke night is every Saturday from 10:00 p.m. until 3:00 a.m., and because of Dewey's small size, you can really get the audience involved (in dragging you away from the microphone). Dewey's also has a great little dining menu that includes grilled mahi-mahi sandwiches for $7.95 and fourteen-ounce hamburgers for the same price. Or you could be a cheap bastard and come for the free buffet Fridays at 7:00 p.m.

One of the few local bands that actually has living, breathing groupies -- who aren't friends and/or family -- the duo known as Awesome New Republic (or simply ANR) recently took off to New York City. Fans, however, can keep a little piece of ANR in their hearts and iPods with ANR So Far. With blunt, passionately delivered lyrics and a soul-folk electro beat that keeps the masses dancing, the album received accolades from critics local and national, including the kids at the musical cool table Pitchfork, who gave the disc a rating of 7.9 out of 10 -- indie-rock gold.

Anyone can throw a bunch of random nouns and adjectives together and come up with a pretty amusing band name (in fact there are Websites for that kind of thing), and the number of prostitutes, dead or otherwise, who engage in complicated card games is probably on the low side. But a band is allowed to have a ridiculous, nonsensical name if the music rocks. And rock the Dead Hookers' Bridge Club does. Jack Switchblade, Ace Roller, and Dr. Johnny Thunder do what they like to call "dirty rock and roll," performing songs like "Hung Like a Whale" and "F--k Texas" from their album Fast Cars! Stiff Drinks! Loose Women!. Sure it's all shtick, but then again, the Beatles posed as the Sgt. Pepper Band, and that album was pretty good.

Some bands break up over raging drug habits; others break up over egos or money. But anyone who's heard the audio-sensory treat that is Vidavox probably wouldn't be too surprised to learn the reason for the group's split: Guitarist/keyboardist/bassist Carlos Vega is heading off to Michigan to pursue his Ph.D. Fans of electronica, jam bands, and plain old good beats will miss Vidavox's formulaic (in a good way), flowing rhythm; syncopated beats; and tracks that simply add up from beginning to end.

The multimember collective known as Locos por Juana -- which includes Itagui, Guillermo "Chamo" Cabral, Carlos "Negro" Viafara, Marc "JC" Kondrat, Marcos "Matatigre" Delgado, Camilo "Tumbao" Sierra, Jonathan "Boricua" Marrero, Javier "Lakambra" Delgado, Emiliano "CheFunk" Torres, Carlos "C-Bone" Avila, Alan Reyna, Claudio, and CALI 3000 -- would never, ever marginalize its music by calling it Caribbean, yet that global term, encompassing the sea and islands from Europe to the Middle East to Africa to the more familiar Bahamas and Puerto Rico -- is a good metaphor for the shifting energies and personalities of Miami's true identity band. This ambitious multicultural mélange mixes salsa, timba, ska, reggae, and cumbia in a wild stage show that is enhanced only by the aesthetically pleasing members. After completely upstaging, in the nicest way, headliner Lila Downs at this spring's Latin Funk Festival, and with a new album, La Verdad, dropping in June, LPJ shows no signs of slowing down or taking time off -- good news for its ever-growing legion of devotees.

Well, it's like this: "Otto Von Schirach is an IDM and breakcore artist from Miami, Florida, of Cuban/German decent. His style is more sporadic and noisy than other artists in the genre, and his visual aesthetic leans on the heavy-metal side rather than electronic. He has released most of his work on the Schematic and Beta Bodega labels, and was featured in the 2002 documentary Electro Dziska. Most recently he worked and went on tour with Skinny Puppy and produced a remix for Miss Kittin." That's from Von Schirach's Wikipedia listing, a listing he made himself, before most people knew what Wiki was (which in Miami means before most people knew what the Internet was). But did you see the last sentence of the entry? The part that says, "and went on tour with Skinny Puppy"? I mean, come on: Skinny Puppy. Even if that's the only thing OVS ever did, it would still make him more awesome than 99.9 percent of other people on the planet, let alone what passes for electronica artisans in most circles. But Von Schirach can stand on his own Korg. He is extremely prolific, having released nearly a dozen full-length works in the past five years alone (with great names such as Chopped Zombie Fungus, Well Suited for General Purpose Audio Work, and last year's Armpit Buffet). And he plays out a lot -- his recent appearances including a set at March's Noise Festival at Churchill's that culminated in cross-dressing and animal costumes. Von Schirach's music is surprising accessible and indescribable, a little of the Puppy's bluster cooled out with the intellect of Cabaret Voltaire, yet wholly original and mandatory for anyone who is into music, either seriously or just for fun, in South Florida.

Jude Thegenius (a.k.a. Jude Papaloko) draws much of his inspiration as a painter and musician from his youth in Haiti. "In Haiti, if you spoke out against the government, the police could come into your house at night, take you away, and you'd disappear forever," says Thegenius. Despite the high risk, Jude and a group of musicians and activists formed an organization called Sunshine and put on performances that were critical of the government. "The music was about revolt," Thegenius explains. "One day the police came in and started shooting." The police continued to put pressure on Sunshine, and in 1986 Jude left Haiti for Miami. Now, when he's not working on after-school art programs for kids in Miami's inner city, Jude plays percussion and does lead vocals for his band Loray Mistik at his art own gallery, Jakmel Art Gallery (147 NW 36th St.). Jakmel moved from its old location on Biscayne Boulevard, where in 2004 it won this paper's Best Place to Slow Dance. The new Jakmel is a warehouse Thegenius turned into a creative cultural center. There is a studio for painting, a gallery, a back-yard area with a small bar for parties, and a performance room with a stage and dance floor that Thegenius built himself. On Mondays at 7:00 p.m., the gallery hosts training for aspiring drummers. The Loray Mistik sound comes from a fusion of Haitian, African, and a bit of Brazilian music, with lyrics that are always thoughtful and politically conscious. Thegenius has appeared on two albums: Timounyo, which he recorded with his band, and Full Moon Energy, which he recorded with the Drum Society, with whom he began the Full Moon Drum Gathering. Thegenius writes all of his own songs, including the beautiful "The Life of the Poor Kids," inspired by "the thousands of poor kids who sleep in the streets of Haiti at night," he says.

LeNard Rutledge, born and raised in Miami, where there is only a handful of truly great jazz vocalists, is usually compared, aptly, to the legendary Lou Rawls. Like Rawls, Rutledge's classy elegance is often permeated by the raw passion of his church choir work. In fact Rutledge still sings with the choir at the historic Saint Agnes Episcopal Church in Overtown. "I'm religious, but not very. I drop the F-bomb when necessary," he says. Rutledge began not as a vocalist but as a drummer, playing in the marching band at Miami Central Senior High, and later making his income during college, in North Carolina, playing at local clubs. He began his vocal career in 1997, when he was asked to join the famed Melton Mustafa Orchestra, whose bandleader, the amazing trumpet player Melton Mustafa, was a member of the Count Basie band for seven years. In 2002 Rutledge was introduced to the music director of Miami's Van Dyke Café, Don Wilner, who immediately recognized Rutledge's talent and began giving him regular spots. "Don Wilner has a reputation of being difficult," Rutledge says, "but that's just because he wants the absolute best. I feel honored to sing there, because it means I'm up to those standards." Rutledge also performs at the Ritz-Carlton South Beach and Emeril's Restaurant, and is working on his debut album, scheduled for release in June. For live performance dates, visit www.donwilner.com.

Skampida is as Skampida sounds: a stampede of positive Colombian ska that tramples right over you with energetic horns, rap solos, and pounding punky drums, all salted with traditional Colombian genres like cumbia and champeta. The nine-member band made its grand entrance into Miami last year with a bang of good vibes that quickly led to nightly collaborations with other bands on the Latin funk scene, including Locos Por Juana and Suenalo Sound System. In fact Skampida's openness and camaraderie is exactly what gives the group its unique sound. Back in Colombia, the bandmates collaborated with street musicians on the margins of society, often participating in festivals to help the poor. When they arrived as broke immigrants in Miami, that same commitment to the public paid off here. Skampida went from being a virtual stranger to an overnight success by continually passing the mike off to colleagues and fans as the band members improvised the music in the background. "The universe works for them because they work for the universe," commented Lizzie Easton, promoter of the Latin Funk Festival.

What was it like to work with Miles Davis? "Working with Miles was outrageous, eccentric, and wonderful. He taught me how to play more by playing less. He also taught me to be myself and not a bullshit artist," says Sammy Figueroa, the percussionist whose 2005 debut album, And Sammy Walked In, was nominated for a Grammy. Figueroa was born in the Bronx and began drumming when he was a young boy after seeing a local drummer perform live. "I forgot who it was, but I caught the bug. I started imitating him," he says, "and my mother got tired of me constantly banging on tables, so she bought me some drums." His professional career began years later when he was eighteen, when he was invited to play percussion for bassist Bobby Valentin's band. Figueroa quickly earned a solid reputation and subsequently has worked with some of the biggest names in music, including Chet Baker, David Bowie, Marc Anthony, Mariah Carey, and Celine Dion, as well as Miles Davis, with whom he toured for eight years all over the world. You can hear Figueroa's work on an assortment of pop hits, including Chic's "We are Family" and the Luther Vandross hit "The Night I Fell in Love." Throughout his career, Sammy has been a sideman to the greats, until he came to Miami, where he was embraced by the Van Dyke Café-centered jazz community and became the frontman of his own band, Sammy Figueroa and His Latin Explosion. Upstairs at the Van Dyke (846 Lincoln Rd., Miami Beach) is where the Latin Explosion can often be found, and check out www.donwilner.com for more info about Sammy and his congas.

The Waterford Landing is a group of four extremely creative musicians -- Alex Caso (synths, vocals), Ed Matus (electric guitars, synth, drum programming, vocals), Richard Rippe (synths, electric Fender bass, vocals), and Neil Rippe (drum set) -- who, with the release of their self-titled debut album (which you can buy for $12 at www.appliedchaotics.com) and constant live performances (see myspace.com/thewaterfordlanding for dates and locations), have amassed a solid local following. In fact this is their fourth Best Of award. The Waterford Landing is a pop band in the best sense, capturing the catchy yet personal, thoughtful spirit of Dark Wave/New Wave greats like Magnetic Fields, New Order, Cocteau Twins, and Joy Division, all of which Caso lists as influences. "Skylark," the second song on their album, is a perfect mix of warm synths, catchy melody, danceable drums, and heartbreaking lyrics. The Waterford Landing is very much an electronic band, but that doesn't mean you'll find the band members behind laptops at live performances; instead they'll be turning up the distortion on their guitars (Matus might be handing someone in the crowd his axe) and letting the "wall of sound," as Caso calls it, blast through the speakers.

We can all learn a lot from Trick Daddy. What are dub deuces? How does one get low to the floor? And how does one get that cream? If we pay attention, we could end up like Trick: with six cars, including a green monster truck in front of our mansion. Trick, who put Miami on the mainstream rap map with his four gold albums, is all over MTV and the radio, dominating the charts with songs like "Sugar (Gimme Some)" and the Ozzy Osbourne-sampled "Let's Go" from his latest album, his sixth, Thug Matrimony, which is headed for platinum status with 804,000 units sold. There is also word of an MTV series called Cookin' with Trick Daddy, in which he will make anything except chitlins because they, as he says, "smell like ass." The real reason Trick deserves this award is that, along with his devotion to children, his work is not cliché. Trick's authenticity strikes a chord, which is why he has spawned so many "Dirty South" copycats. He's creative and versatile, able to make a booty song, but also politically thoughtful (listen to the single "Amerika"). Trick is definitely a savvy businessman, turning Slip-N-Slide Records into a blue chip from scratch, but he's not selling empty boxes. His production is always catchy and interesting, and his lyrics are consistently creative and truthful.

Three young MCs -- Afterlogic, Newsense, and Parable -- all Miami natives, form the hip-hop trio SoulWhat?, which can be seen making the rounds at live music venues including I/O and Metropolis. But it is from the giant, borderless trunk called the Internet -- using a simple Website and a PayPal account -- that they deliver their fun, smart hip-hop full-length Rewind: Bringing Back the Future, released in 2005. Rewind may be one of the most important albums to come out of Miami in a long time. It's one of the very few to deliver the creative, thoughtful lyricism that has been almost nonexistant in the local music scene. Like all great hip-hop music, Rewind reaches listeners because the performers, with no pressure from a record label, use the album as a medium to actually say what they feel, and can get creative with sound. One of the tracks, "SoulWhat? vs. Beck," samples Beck's mid-Nineties hit "Loser," which along with the trio's brilliant flow makes for an interesting and wonderful mashup. "Gift of Gab" is laid-back and smooth, like Common's earlier work, with a perfect, mellow electric jazz guitar loop. But there's really no need for a review when you can buy the album for only $2 at www.soulwhat.net.

Romulo del Castillo and Josh Kay, Miami natives who form the electronic duo Phoenecia, started Schematic Records in 1996 in Perrine with friends Push Button Objects and Seven, founder of Chocolate Industries, the label that debuted Prefuse 73. "We are an artist-run label/collective. We have no intent on running a real business," Castillo says. "If it sells, great. If not, great." Schematic boasts an impressive roster of electronic musicians, including Secret Frequency Crew, Otto Von Schirach, and Dino Felipe, all of whom are receiving heavy rotation on radio stations such as the University of Miami's WVUM (90.5 FM). The label seems to attract and encourage amazingly creative, diverse artists from all over the world, ranging from the loud, distorted Hearts of Darknesses (listen to "Air Guitar" on their 2003 album, Music for Drunk Driving) to the low-key melodic beauty of Secret Frequency Crew (check out "Aqua" on the group's 2005 album, The Underwater Adventure Hop Secret Treasure). Despite its founders' claimed lack of business ambition, Schematic has artists whose albums are featured on iTunes, so you can hear samples of the work for yourself.

Calling Shuttle Lounge a band is like calling the online community World of Warcraft a videogame. Like the latter, Shuttle Lounge is an environment, a lifestyle. Stuff happens, some of it bad, most of it thrilling. The members of Shuttle Lounge -- Dik Shuttle, Ca$$iu$ Casio KRS "le juan" Love Sebastian Bacherach de la Fenderr Rrhodes, Deuces, Major Whitey Herzog, MalcomxXx, and RavelSTEIN, are inhabited presences who are in character for each and every second of every performance. (And there are a lot of performances, most of them at Churchill's, but ShuttleLoungeLand laps all across SoFla.) The band calls itself a "lounge act," hence the name, and the shtick does include quite a bit of Bill-Murray-as-that-guy-patter, but the lineup is straight-ahead rock: several guitars, some horns, and a really large drum kit. Shuttle Lounge has cover tunes and it has original tunes, but what it seems to excel at is a sort of original-cover mashup, sometimes writing new lyrics for existing melodies and often throwing snippets of lyrics -- a kind of "found poetry" approach -- from other songs as well as au courant pop culture catch phrases into band-written scores. Even if you don't get Dik Shuttle's asides about the inadequacies of parking on the swale or living in suburban Broward County, a Shuttle Lounge live show is infectiously entertaining, and, yes, maybe this is the "lounge" influence too, even a little classy. Even at Churchill's.

Despite his affinity for street performing, Jesse Jackson is not homeless or down on his luck. But if the slim, scruffy guitar player on Lincoln Road asks if he can play you a song, let him. Don't worry -- despite sharing a name with a famous outspoken reverend -- the soulful folk singer won't preach to you. You will, however, leave a fan. And with numerous gigs at venues like Stop Miami, the recent Langerado Festival, and Churchill's, he's acquiring lots of followers -- and it took him only five years.

A spacy hippie chick raised in Miami, Raffa Jo Harris is half of folk duo Raffa and Rainer. Her beautifully sensitive ballads are about coincidences, friends, love -- all the sweet things in life -- and they're usually prefaced with a kind of story-behind-the-song. She's often compared to a sweeter Joni Mitchell, and, says one fan, she can make the hardest person go all mushy. Perhaps her next gig should be on I-95 during rush hour.

A sexy librarian walks into another bar. She is still looking for the perfect man, but tonight she settles for the companionship of a perfect martini. Over the years her fickle taste has migrated from gin to vodka. (Go ahead and call her a heathen, but James Bond jumped the juniper berry ship and never looked back.) A year older, a year wiser, and the bar code on her library card a little worse for wear, the bibliophile has gone dirty but still wants class. This swanky bar set in the terribly romantic Biltmore Hotel has the feel of an intimate parlor, with brocade settees, warm candlelight, and black-and-white photos adorning the walls. The charming Octavio mixes a superb beverage -- shaken with enough vigor to splinter the ice without diluting the spirits -- and is happy to lend a sympathetic ear as the librarian scans the room for a traveling businessman who'd be happy to pay for her $14 cocktail (yes, it's a bit much, but that's what you pay for top-shelf in this town). As she sips her seductively smooth and salty libation, the librarian spies a diamond-studded Cartier timepiece on a handsome suit. He extends his hand to make her acquaintance, but the flash of a gold wedding band immediately redirects her gaze across the bar, where she spies a rugged outdoor type holding a Bill Bryson book in one hand and a martini in the other. She smoothes her skirt and lets down her hair before she crosses the room to see how the next chapter of her delicious novel will unfold.

There's no denyin' that hip-hop/reggae artist Fitzroy has sprung like a lion onto Miami's modern multicultural music scene this year. In only a matter of months, the Bajan journalist-turned-singer became a bar-hold name, packing the house at Jazzid, Transit Lounge, and the patio of Stop Miami, while he swung his massive mane of dreads and sang to the Most High. His sound has a modern, urban flair, enhanced by echoing hip-hop and sound bytes to create a naturally mystic ambiance. Add that to a strong voice, a knack for contemplative lyrics, and a whole lotta stage charisma, complete with cheeky Caribbean humor. His business card reads, "Fitzroy: Available for weddings, birthdays, exorcisms, and resurrections." The artist is packaging those ritual practices on his album Paradise Low, which he hopes to release this spring.

There's nothing like a rocking family fan club to renew a band's energy. This year Tereso proved that childlike spunk is as important as looking like hardcore punks, when they let the Teresitos (four-year-old Ella, six-year-old Belen, and thirteen-year-old Luna) jump onstage to shake their butts and shout back-up vocals alongside singers uncle Chelo Crocetti and dads Juan and Alejo Rozas. After eleven years together, the bandmates produced their first full-length album, Youth Divine Treasure. The CD offers a hard-driving garage-grunge band sound with an explosion of youthful energy, no doubt a testimony to hanging with the kiddies. But in March the gals had to stay home and prep the newest addition, three-month-old Delfin. Tereso packed its caravan with electric guitars and amps for its first major non-Miami tour -- first stop: Los Angeles -- where the band opened for Volumen Cero.

For years Matthew Sabatella has been an important parochial player, first as the bass player and a singer for masterful rock band Broken Spectacles, then as a sideman for a number of groups, a solo artist, producer, Webmaster. Slight and soft-spoken, he has always been a large and loud presence in South Florida music. If any criticism might be leveled, it would be only that he spread himself a bit thin, trying to accomplish too much both as an artist and advocate. A couple of years ago Sabatella, in the tradition of documentarian Ken Burns, became enmeshed in a vast and significant project: chronicling American history through song. The acoustic Ballad of America, Volume 1: Over a Wide and Fruitful Land has been embraced by critics, museums, and fans. Featuring a number of top South Florida players and instruments such as banjo, fiddle, concertina, resonator guitar, bodhran, harmonica, mandolin, and upright bass behind Sabatella's potent baritone vocals, the record is both modern-sounding and faithful to its inspiration. It includes a twelve-page booklet of histories for each song. The second volume, the musician promises, will be released this year. Flashing forward to the past, Sabatella is bringing forth some beautiful and important music. The commitment he's shown and passion he's clearly felt are equally admirable.

Truly a neighborhood bar, Keg South is family-friendly in the afternoons and early evenings, when the place fills with happy-hour revelers as well as parents with kids still uniformed from soccer or T-ball practice. Tucked away on a sidestreet just across 137th Avenue from the Kendall-Tamiami Airport, this Keg South location (there is another farther south) is the watering hole for residents from Kendall to Country Walk and the many unnamed portions of unincorporated South Miami-Dade that make up the surrounding area. Excellent bar food is available (the catfish po'boy is excellent, as is the simple queso blanco appetizer), and diversions abound: In addition to the TV sets tuned to local sports, the bar boasts a pool table and several arcade-style videogames.

South Miami and Kendall are not known for wild nights and hedonistic revelry. By 11:00 p.m. the crickets are louder than the burbs between Kendall Drive and Bird Road. Aside from a handful of bars, there's not much for southern suburbanites to do without driving for 30 minutes. Luckily Martini Bar in the Shops at Sunset Place gives a breath of fresh air to the stale nightlife scene south of Brickell. Even though it's located inside a mall, you'll think you're partying it up on Washington Avenue by your third vodka tonic. So drop those shopping bags and pick up a martini glass, because DJs, live bands, and flowing alcohol keep patrons moving to the beat. Happy-hour specials and an In the Biz discount offer additional booty-shaking incentives to the other nightly festivities. One pleasantly unusual advantage that Martini Bar has over its beach-bordering competition is that it's open seven days a week till 5:00 a.m. If you hanker to take an unexpected "sick day" in the middle of the week, Martini Bar is glad to hand you a prescription.

There was a time, after the extinction of dinosaurs and the ascension of Homo sapiens, when pinball ruled the Earth. Miami, like most major cities, was dotted with arcades housing dozens and dozens of flippered, belled, whistled, and generally colorful games that required concentration, eye-to-hand coordination, and a certain je ne sais quois to master. Then came Pong. Donkey Kong. Space Invaders. Galaga. Mr. and Ms. Pacman. Pinball survived but was relegated to the shadows. Xbox, Nintendo, and PlayStation (the third version of which will be Sony's first global release, an endeavor so far beyond the company's usual Japan-then-other-nations-after-fixing-glitches approach that it has been postponed) have pretty much sent pinball the way of the 'saurs. In the U.S. there were one million machines in play in 1989. Ten years later the number sank to a depressing 360,000. Revenue dipped from $2.4 billion to $1.08 billion in the same period, according to trade publication Vending Times. Five versions of the classic game are available for play at the family-friendly Fun-O-Rama.

Afro-Cuban fusion singer Descemer Bueno's calls home to Havana are echoing from Miami stages across the Florida Straits to the seawall along Malecón Boulevard in the Cuban capital, and even onto Madrid's music scene. Bueno, a founder of legendary Latin funk band Yerba Buena and current frontman of Siete Rayo, boasts a brand of funk, jazz, merengue, reggaeton, hip-hop and Afro-Cuban rhythms all his own. It was recognized with a record deal from Universal Latino, as well as Spain's prestigious Goya Award for Best Music Written for a Film in the movie Havana Blues. When Bueno belts out the song "Habana," it sounds like an eerie cry, a yearning for unification in the Cuban diaspora. "If I never go back, it will break my heart," he sings, followed by a reinforcement of all that he is: "I represent the Afro-Cuban generation." Let's hope that cry will lead to a new understanding of Cuba in all its of political and ethnographic makeup.

In the basement of a shuttered hotel at mid-Beach, barflies in the know gathered daily to celebrate the joys of the perfect neighborhood watering hole. Since 1958, Chamber Lounge had served good advice along with impressively stiff drinks (and occasional freebies for those who looked like they merited a hangover). The friendliest bar in town also had the most diverse clientele. On any given night, models and celebs could be seen rubbing elbows with residents and snowbirds while hipsters exchanged toasts with the city's upper crust. The only thing missing was bad attitude. This 2004 Best of Miami winner for Best Neighborhood Bar is scheduled to become yet another condominium conversion.

Once a month DJ Jazzy Jeff (of "... and the Fresh Prince" fame) spun at Shine at the Shelborne, making for a night of booty-grinding and straight-up drunken fun. In between serving cosmos and cocktails, scantily clad bartenders danced on the bar, much to the pleasure of hollering bystanders of the male gender. Popular hip-hop tracks satisfied the crowd's need to boogie to songs everyone knows. There must have been some subliminal message in Jeff's mixes, urging patrons to imbibe to the point where inhibitions, budgets, and shame were abandoned. Or maybe it was just the combination of a rowdy party and exceptionally strong drinks that kept cheeks rosy, the booze flowing, and bodies moving. Jazzy Jeff's bumping sets and star appeal brought in the masses for a party that any South Beach regular could appreciate. Okay, so you missed that gig, and Shine is closing for renovations, but you can still catch Jeff at other South Florida venues. Check out his Website for more info.

The what-ifs are haunting. They say you have a beautiful voice. That you can dance. That you're really funny. Are you truly an undiscovered star? Whether it's music, dance, theater, or comedy, get over the stage fright and test your material before a live audience. Miami is not, for sure, New York, but at least we have Luna Star's open mike twice a month (every second and fourth Saturday, beginning at 8:00 p.m.). "It's a free-for-all. Music, poetry, comedy. You can do whatever you want," says owner Alexis Sanfield. It's also first come, first served. Put your name on the list early -- because roughly seven to nine performers get a shot each night. Good news for newbies: The audience is very supportive. No boo birds at Luna. And even if you bomb, you can drown your sorrows in one of Luna's 100 beers. Prices range from $3 bottles of Rolling Rock to a Belgian for $17.

Tucked away inside the posh architecture of the Ritz-Carlton Key Biscayne, you'll spy a thatched hut that's light years away from the kind of prissy sensibility one might expect from such a fancy-pants hotel. Cantina Beach feels like a different key than Biscayne. After a decadent evening of tequila shots, passion fruit margaritas, and freshly made guacamole at this oceanfront restaurant, you just might begin thinking you've crossed the Seven Mile Bridge and gone to Key West. The view of the Atlantic is breathtaking, the décor is to die for, and the menu offers 50 different tequilas. Ay, caramba! A lush could get into a world of trouble in a place as wonderful as this one.

It's almost 7:30 p.m. You've just spent the past two-and-a-half hours stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic on I-95, the Golden Glades Interchange, and the Palmetto Expressway. You're only minutes away from your two-story condo in Miami Lakes. But as you exit at Miami Lakes Drive, you find yourself driving into the Royal Oaks Plaza shopping center lot. You park your car and stroll into the Billiard Club, where James the bartender is already pouring you a tall, cold glass of your favorite pilsner. At the end of the bar, a group of lovely suburban honeys takes full advantage of ladies' night, ordering free cocktails as if drinking were going out of style. Bon Jovi, Posion, and other memorable big-hair bands blare from the jukebox. Some of your neighbors are there too, challenging you to a game of pool or darts. The loser has to mow the winner's lawn for the next two weeks.

Darts are not a mere parlor game for you. You have strong opinions about the great steel versus soft tip debate. You worship Bob "The Limestone Cowboy" Anderson and Eric Bristow. And you practice. Hence it pains you to see a bunch of chuckers throwing all over the clock. As a member of the Miami-Dade Darting Association, you need a serious dart and a serious board. Tom's NFL Club doesn't mess around: It boasts two British-made dart boards, with a proper green chalkboard for scoring. And it obeys the first two rules of the game: First, no mixing of darts with other parlor games. Darts are in a nice carpeted corner, away from TV sets and pool. Second, don't give the drunken man easy access to the darts. To get steel tips at Tom's, you need to ask. Dartspeople who use performance enhancement should take note: Tom's happy hour, 3:00 to 7:00 p.m. weeknights, offers domestic drafts for two bucks.

Glance through the glass door in the Sweetwater strip mall, and you see a couple of videogames and a bar in the background. Nothing to get excited about. But once you enter Inside Billiards, some kind of Narnian transformation occurs: You just keep walking and walking, and the back wall gets farther away, until the room opens up into a huge, high-ceiling hall ringed with television sets and filled with rows of well-kept, full-size pool tables. Rates are reasonable: Tables cost $9.90 per hour for two people, and everyone playing pool gets free beer Wednesday and Thursday nights. Inside Billiards is open daily from 1:00 p.m. to 3:00 a.m.

You know you have found a true neighborhood spot the second all but one of the people perched on bar stools admit they live less than ten blocks away. Do these River regulars realize how lucky they are? Not just because this cozy gem is located virtually on their doorstep, but because they have the option of walking here -- and navigating the maze of one-way streets in a car is not fun. Nonetheless pull up a seat at the oversize wrap-around mahogany bar, and any incurred driving drama will soon dissipate -- a little faster if you make it in time for happy hour (Monday through Saturday from 4:30 to 7:00 p.m.). That roughly translates to $5 glasses of wine (more than twenty are offered), $5 Fris martinis, and of course an impressive selection of half-price, succulently fresh oysters (beginning at 80 cents each). If you're hungering for something more substantial, the kitchen dishes up a varied selection of reasonably priced plates to satiate even the most refined palate; our faves include steamed Mediterranean mussels in coconut milk ($14), sea scallop tiradito ($9), and whole yellowtail snapper served with pigeon pea rice and coconut spinach ($22). But at the end of the day -- when River really packs 'em in -- this is one of those places where everyone may not necessarily know your name, but tell the friendly bartender/manager/server just once, and he or she will remember. Cheers!

The city skyline, glowing in the late afternoon sun, seems almost within reach. It's just beyond the lip of the elegant little infinity pool here. So sit back in a lounge chair, sip your gin and tonic, and relax. For an upscale hotel, the Mandarin Oriental's poolside bar is refreshingly low-key. Children splash around, gray-haired men flip through newspapers, and various body shapes lie about. Tito, one of the bartenders here, will make you a potent litchi colada, the bar's specialty, or any of an assortment of frozen drinks. If you're craving something to eat, there's a sushi and sashimi bar as well as a full menu of sandwiches, soups, and salads. It's on the pricey side, but the splurge is worth it, especially when you discover the private beach just steps away. Take your drink down to this sandy, tree-shaded oasis full of lounge chairs and hammocks. Watch the light glitter on the bay, glance over at the city skyline, and feel a million miles away. The bar is open until 5:00 p.m. weekdays, until 5:30 or 6:00 p.m. weekends. Drinks range from $5 for a beer to $12 for a frozen drink. The hotel's M Bar, which has outdoor seating above the pool area, is open until midnight weekdays and 1:00 a.m. weekends.

WRGP, the Florida International University student radio station, broadcasts out of South Miami-Dade and has a fairly weak signal. But it's worth the extra effort to tune in (or visit it online). Along with great reggae programming, the station has the same element that makes many college stations great: music geeks. Full-time straight-up retro-Adidas-wearing, shag-haircut-sporting college kids who want nothing more than to dig through every singles bin in every secondhand store and wade through every free music Website so you don't have to.

Even as Lincoln Road began to descend into ultrahipness in the late Nineties, Zeke's was one of the places to escape the madness. The comfortable crowd, extensive beer selection, and low prices made it the place to be for those who didn't care about being in the Place To Be. Then -- suddenly -- it closed. Victor Deutsch, who owned and ran the bar along with his mother Thelma, simply shut it down. "My son closed it, and I had the intention to reopen right away, but I had to tend to a sick family member," says Thelma. Rather than sell the valuable property, Thelma held on and reopened this past November. "Now it's open again, and everybody is enjoying it," she says. "The community needed a place like this -- laid-back, low price, no pressure."

It's been said there is an inverse correlation between the quality of a rock club and the condition of its bathrooms. The less toilet paper present, the more bands onstage. If this theory proves correct, Churchill's has definitely earned this award. It's one of the few (if not only) venues in town where one can rock out almost every night of the week and, now that Sweat Records set up shop in the back room, one of the only places to purchase indie tunes. Every act on the bill may not sound like Led Zeppelin or the Killers, but this Miami institution has always made a conscious effort to support local musicians, whether they're playing their first gig or they've been around as long as the bar's potpies.

93 Rock, the radio station that saved the day for South Florida's rock fans when Zeta (WZTA-FM, 94.9) bit the dust, has been around for only a bit more than a year. But one of the station's most popular DJs, "Naughty" Natalia Delacruz, has been announcing the station's call letters for longer than most. She made a name for herself with the glowstick set when 93 Rock was Party 93. "I was with Party for three and a half years. I worked with every major DJ you can think of. Name one, and I've worked with them. And I also worked with the guys from Ultra; I helped put together the first two Ultras," the forever rocker chick says. Natalia loved her job, and she loved dance music. When she was among the first to learn the station had flipped formats, it turned her world upside down. "It was devastating for dance but a victory for rock. I lost my livelihood in one hour. I felt that everything I knew stopped. My main thing was, What do I need to do?, and secondly, Do I have a fucking job?" she remembers. Now instead of Paul Oakenfold and remixes of Britney Spears songs, Natalia plays Audioslave and Korn, Staind and Metallica, and always leaves the fans wanting more. Her enthusiasm for the music is infectious and convincing. "I've had dance music in my blood, but I also used to listen to death metal! I listened to Bauhaus and Skinny Puppy, and then I got into New Wave.... I've been through so many phases," she explains. Through hard work and dedication, Naughty Natalia has earned the competitive midday spot, and she's gained popularity as one of the ladies leading the hot rocker chick pack. "Rock doesn't have to be dirty. I hate that stereotype. Girls don't have to look like shit -- you can look hot and love rock. Wear little hot outfits, look good! And same thing for guys -- they don't just have to be these tattooed-up, smelly-armpit motherfuckers. Florida is so diverse!" she exclaims. When Natalia goes out on promo events, she dresses the part, typically showing off her rack in a tank top and sporting a short skirt. Her look harks back to Eighties wet dreams like Lita Ford and Vixen. The Harley-riding hottie unabashedly embraces her T&A, rock and roll image, and hosts various adult-theme events around Broward County. "I host the stripper-pole contest. We have all the girls from Cheetah, Bare Elegance, Vegas Cabaret, Scarlett's, Tootsies ... they all come out and do their thing. When you come to one of my events, I guarantee you're gonna have a good time, and we're gonna fuckin' rock it," she laughs. Natalia takes any and every opportunity to show love to her fans, but she also has a message for the few remaining haters out there. "I've had people who wanna judge me and say, ÔOh, she doesn't know this fucking music.' To the people who accept me and respect how hard it's been for me to try to gain the respect from a brand-new culture of music, I say thank you. And those who want to be hard-core and not accept me, that's their opinion. I'm just gonna be myself," she says with defiance. Natalia is rebellious, strong, confident, and admirable, everything rock and roll should be.

Beer, Buffalo wings, sports on TV, students watching sports on TV. In most American cities, the college sports bar is a common occurrence. Not here in Miami. In fact the chief representative of this genre is a little bar near the University of Miami. The exterior of Duffy's signals safe haven -- a green shamrock, a sign that reads "Sports Grill," and a UM flag. Inside it's even better. Comfy booths, overflowing pitchers of beer, and, most important, fifteen TV sets tuned to -- yes -- sports. The place, which has been serving Miami since 1955, has the two essentials -- pitchers of Rolling Rock for $5.50, and platters of Buffalo wings for less than seven bucks. Most Thursday nights feature a rib special ($11.50 for a full slab). But beware, Gators and Seminoles: This is not any ordinary sports bar; this is a Canes sports bar.

Not too long ago Tootsie operated her business in a strip mall off State Road 441 (NE Second Avenue) and 199th Street, reeling in party-rocking dudes and chicks into her raunchy cabaret with two-for-one specials and a gorgeous crew of exotic dancers. A naturally pretty and adventuresome girl, Tootsie was famous for pushing the envelope of human sexuality by putting on incredible girl-on-girl shows starring some of her loosest friends. Today Tootsie is a still a slut, but she has undergone some cosmetic changes. She went out and got herself a new set of 36-DDD implants and copious Botox injections. Tootsie also moved down the street and bought her own 40,000-square-foot warehouse and turned it into a multimillion-dollar multimedia playground with an upstairs VIP lounge and five $500-an-hour skyboxes to entertain high-rolling corporate customers. The conceited bitch has even emblazoned her name on an enormous marquee on the first floor. "She used to be the Finnegan's of titty bars," laments an old regular. "Today she is a Vegas-style pussy Wal-Mart." At least Tootsie is still offering two-for-one specials, $10 table dances, and $20 lap dances. And, let's not forget, she still loves spinning the Wheel of Friction. And for that, we'll always love you Tootsie, you whore!

Open from 10:00 a.m. until 10:00 p.m., this open-air sports bar serves up typical bar fare -- burgers, fries, onion rings -- made with uncommonly high-quality ingredients and cooked with surprising delicacy. The king-size cheese-steak sandwich costs $9, but it is an enormous portion, and it's made from Texas rib eye sliced on the premises by cook and co-owner Justin Hughes (a smaller portion is available for $6). The bar doesn't serve hard liquor, but one of the twenty imported beers available is the perfect accompaniment for Kingdom's excellent burger, a half-pound monster that would cost a lot more than six bucks at a different joint. The food selection includes a grilled chicken breast sandwich, wings, and a knockwurst hero, among other things. Sides include perfectly beer-battered onion rings, or spinach sautéed in olive oil with garlic and a splash of lemon. The kitchen is open until the bar closes, making this place a perfect spot to grab some food after a night out.

A raw bar is the best kind of bar, and Rodbenders is the best kind of raw bar: a friendly joint with verve, a happy vibe, and ambiance swimming with things nautical. "This is a home," says owner Kathy McMillan. "It's comfortable. It's a real neighborhood bar, especially for guys who like to fish. We have a fishing atmosphere." The walls are covered with rods, photos of customers with their catches, and mounted fish, including the ladies' world record mutton snapper, a 23.3 pound specimen caught by McMillan six years ago. Rodbenders even sponsors its own dolphin tournament (taking place June 24) and supports other local competitions. The servers' stand that greets customers is a representation of the center console of a boat. When Budweiser brought in a new blond ale, McMillan allowed her customers to name it: Reel Crazy, reads the label. Drink prices range from $3 to $7, and the seafood is delish, especially shrimp, dolphin, and the shrimp egg rolls. Oddly, though, the prime item happens to be the chicken wings ($4.95 for ten) served with a hot sauce or a honey blackened sauce. "They're good, aren't they? Our wings are reason enough to come down," chirps one waitress. When you do, give McMillan a photo of yourself with one of your catches. "We'll be glad to hang it on the wall," she says. Happy hours are 4:00 to 7:00 p.m. weekdays, but this is a place to get happy any time.

Whether you're concluding a trip to the Keys or attempting a serene re-entry into the weekday grind, Alabama Jack's is the perfect place to toast your weekend goodbye. A big outdoor bar-restaurant set in the middle of mangroves just north of the Card Sound Bridge, the 58-year-old Jack's is a South Florida institution and a great place to watch wading birds (and sometimes a snook or two) and let the sunset wash over you. The grub is straight bar food -- in a good way (fried seafood abounds), and on occasion a local country band takes the stage to boot your ass into the work week. Try the crabcakes ($7) or conch fritters ($6) for true Florida cracker fare. Open daily 11:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m.

Do you like to drink cheap beer in the company of serious drinkers who don't give two shits about ambiance, South Beach glitz, cleanliness, or really anything except drinking? On the Rocks is your bar. Three beers, five bucks, 5:00 to 7:00 p.m. daily. Enough said.

All it takes is one song. One single song can make or break a mood, pack or empty a dance floor, ignite or extinguish a vibe. Just one tune can send a middle-age mother of two heading straight to the stripper pole, fool a white girl into thinking she be backing it up like Beyoncé do, inspire some dude to publicly perform the funky chicken and think he's actually cool, and make a gay man shed his shirt in a fit of nellyness. Few understand the strange, random, and mysterious power music wields over mankind better than DJs, because gauging which track will do what to whom is their craft. And around these parts, Jody McDonald is considered a master, Miami's number one man behind the music. "If you're spinning in a club, that's different, but when you're doing events and corporate gigs, it's not about you as a DJ," quips McDonald, "it's about what the client wants." Since beginning more than twenty years ago, McDonald has spun the soundtrack for everything from trendy fashion shows, decadent dance clubs, classical museum openings, and the pregame tent at the Orange Bowl, to infamous celebrity weddings. "They can range in music from Arabic lounge to contemporary hip-hop; you just have to be prepared." When McDonald DJed Mets catcher Mike Piazza's nuptials last summer, he made sure to pack an extra twelve-inch or two lest the newlywed change his tune at the last minute. And when he was invited to perform for sober former-Creed frontman Scott Stapp's wedding at Vizcaya this past February, McDonald left Jimmy Buffett's "Margaritaville" at home. Because as any good DJ will tell you, one song is all it takes.

It's difficult to believe this posh spot is still jumping with glitterati after notorious hip-hop producer Marion "Suge" Knight was shot in the leg while chilling at the Red Room during last year's Video Music Awards revelry. After all, who wants to get capped when you're dropping $500 on a bottle of Patrón? But the Suge incident seems to have added a dose of notoriety to South Beach's most exclusive VIP room. Of course, the service and the attitude at the Red Room are as pretentious as the eclectic décor, noted Sheri Mischon, a 24-year-old New York-born Jewish princess who attended Skybar's star-studded New Year's Eve soiree that included John Stamos, Molly Sims, Jamie-Lynn Sigler, Vin Diesel, and perennial Red Room guest Lil' Jon. Of course, you need a strong stomach to withstand the onslaught of dull, beautiful people preoccupied with posing in front of others. But what else would you expect from a tr?ès chic snob bar? Now excuse us -- we just saw Lindsay Lohan and Mischa Barton walk through the door.

When the precocious, self-absorbed, ridiculously good-looking boys and girls who earn their living posing for catalogues and strutting the catwalk want a place where they can get down and dirty, they scamper to Ted's Hideaway, the institutional dive bar between Collins and Washington. After all, Ted's offers a nice respite from the glittery, Top 40 hip-hop-infused SoBe club scene where the models get to mingle with the local surf rats and other colorful characters who troll the blocks south of Fifth. Don't believe us? Check out Ted's on Tuesday nights before Tommy Pooch's Hotel Astor party or on Thursday nights on the way to Snatch. You'll be surprised by how many faces represented by Wilhelmina, Next, and Elite are playing pool and rocking the jukebox at Ted's.

In Miami's small but burgeoning wine bar scene, newcomer Stop Miami is a cut above. While other vino joints may have more selection or sex appeal, Stop Miami is the most eclectic, laid-back, and friendly spot to sip a Pinot Grigio and nibble on Serrano ham. Cozily ensconced in a former gas station on the edge of Wynwood and the Design District, the little bar spills onto the sidewalk with tables and chairs. Everyone seems to know one another here, and the vibe is warm. Bottles are moderately priced from $12 for a 2003 Shale Ridge Syrah from Monterey, California, to $31 for a 2004 Insoglio de Cinghiale red blend from Bibbona, Italy. Wine by the glass is $4 and up. Tapas and montaditos such as Spanish egg tortilla and boquerones in vinaigrette range from $2 to $10. Happy hour features $3 sangrias and wine and beer specials, but there are plenty of other reasons to visit, including free winetastings Fridays and live music most nights. If you want to avoid the $9 corkage fee, try a beer from the more-than-adequate selection of bottles for $4 and $5; then take your bottle of wine to go. Stop Miami is open Tuesday through Thursday from 5:00 p.m. to 1:00 a.m., Fridays and Saturdays from 5:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m., and Sundays from 6:00 p.m. to midnight.

Café Nostalgia's return to Miami Beach this year brought Havana and Calle Ocho a bit closer to the land of sea and sand. The club turned a much-loved back-door Spanish tavern into a cozy cabaret with a Latin speakeasy flair. Decorated with old music photographs and a modern video screen, it's the only place on the Beach to effectively capture the essence of Cuba's past and present. That is also evident onstage, where audiences can find a healthy diet of traditional son and salsa during the early hours and a descarga creativa (literally a creative discharge) as Latin artists drop their tourist getups and jam to their own fusion beat later into the night.

It took people in Miami a long time to figure out what people in California caught a clue about (courtesy of a strict state law) a decade ago: You can dance, talk, and generally party longer and harder in smoke-free environments. Also you don't have to leave your glam nighttime wear outside on the porch owing to the ground-in tobacco stench. There is no law in Florida generally or Miami-Dade County that specifically prohibits lighting up at a nightclub (though it is verboten where food is served). People just seem to be smoking less, burning holes in pashminas less, exhaling all over the person next to them on the dance floor less.

Let's make something clear right off the bat, people. "Madhouse is a party, not a place," says event organizer Marlon Whiteman, one of the members of the Trini South Boyz party syndicate. The confusion arose back when the Key Biscayne establishment Bayside Hut was known as Madfish House. At night the party promoters would remove fish so that the glowing red sign worked as a beacon for legions of Caribbean partiers. Among the island immigrant ranks, Madhouse became a must every Friday night. Famously decadent events took place, including many of the best-attended Miami Carnaval parties, bigtime reggae concerts featuring the likes of Elephant Man and Capleton, and last year's notorious Fourth of July Wet Fete, in which revelers were soaked with fire hoses, water guns, and water balloons. Then the organizers of the popular weekly bash came across some drama that led to relocation issues. "We went to Bongos first, and we spent three weeks there before we realized we had to move again. To put hype on it, I came up with the idea of taking the party on the road. So right now we're in Fort Lauderdale at Club Ole Ole," Whiteman explains. "But Madhouse has always been a Miami-based promotion. We on the road right now; we're enjoying it for the moment. But you never know what tomorrow might bring," the charming party-thrower quips. Madhouse's local base has dwindled somewhat in the face of the daunting trek to Broward, and the party is destined to return to Miami-Dade in the near future. Although Marlon Whiteman remains coy about the party's prospective destinations, he admits his ideal venue is one that combines indoor heat with outdoorsy space. "That venue in Key Biscayne was like our first child, and your first will always be your favorite. Unless the child messes up as he gets older and becomes a crackhead or something," he laughs. "But still, your love for that one will always be the strongest. In the parties we throwing now, the vibe isn't how it used to be," he confesses. For now, reggae revelers will continue to venture north for their weekly fix. But we light a candle and hope Madhouse will come home soon, to the Miami bay where it's meant to be.

Fret not thyselves, reggae fanatics. Even though Mixx 96 has been down recently, the station is destined to make a return to the airwaves soon. You haven't heard his familiar voice recently, but Leighton P. Walsh, the DJ better known as Walshy Killa, is still on the air, and Throwback Thursdays will be rocking your boombox again very soon. Such is the irregular life of a pirate-station superstar. When Walshy isn't able to perform his duties as an on-air jock on Miami's best Caribbean radio station, he tours the world with the DJ sound system Black Chiney, bringing island vibes to parties all over the world. This year alone, he's already been to Trinidad in the heat of Carnival, then to England, then to Bermuda. "It's not glamorous. Don't ever think it is. Now that I've traveled, I would trade what I'm doing to stay here," the modest selector says. Although he loves being on Mixx 96, Walshy aspires to go mainstream, to have a show on one of the big three urban stations, perhaps. If they would step out of the box to hire a DJ like him, that is. "I don't have any formal mainstream training, but what I do have is my acquired skills and my ability to communicate with people," he says. Ah, that explains it. That lack of instruction has made him the friendliest, most down-to-earth DJ on the dial today. He hasn't yet become a cog in the corporate machine. He hasn't had to deal with studio pimps. Right now Walshy Killa is still free to be himself. For those who haven't experienced Throwback Thursdays yet, be forewarned. The show might not resonate with folks who didn't grow up in the Caribbean, or who didn't listen to dancehall reggae during their formative years. Walshy spins the tracks the people want to hear, like Shabba Ranks's "Roots and Culture," or Dennis Brown's "Silhouette," for example, and then launches into hilarious anecdotes for the folks who remember going to annual school bazaars, when gangsta wannabes sported "bullethole suits," and the Bogle and Butterfly were big in the dance. "I love Throwback Thursdays more than anything, because I'm 29, and it brings back memories. I really do believe that I have a great, great talent of getting how I feel across to people. So I'm like, yo, do you guys remember this? And when I play the song, I remind them of what they were doing at the time, how they were dressing, what clubs they were going to, and what dances they were doing. The people really respond to that. And I'm always shocked to find out how many people were right there, where I was at," he marvels. Walshy was born in Miami and raised in Jamaica. As a youth, he traveled extensively, and it gave him an appreciation for other cultures. "That's why I love the other islands so much. I want to learn everything about them, because I was blessed to understand from young that the world is bigger than my little world." For that reason, he chooses not to adopt a strong Jamaican accent, slipping into straight Yankee, singsong Trini, or lilting Grenadian when he sees fit. For the people who aren't familiar with Mixx 96's blend of community chatter over classic reggae tracks, the constant interruptions can be annoying to say the least. But for migrants who want their voices heard, it's vital and important. Callers get angry when the DJs don't take enough on-air calls. "On my show, I do my very best to include everybody and let them know that where they are from is the best place on Earth," says Walshy. One of Throwback Thursdays' most memorable moments took place when he was sick, coughing, raspy, and somehow still hosting the show. Between selections by Garnett Silk, Freddie McGregor, and Eek-a-Mouse, Walshy asked callers to share their native cold and flu remedies with him. "People were calling in with some wild, wild stuff!" he exclaims. "One Trini lady called in and said I needed a Ôcowboy,' which is a sponge bath. Another guy called in and said I needed to mix babash (moonshine bush rum) with corn soup. When you hear that stuff, you just say, man, the islands are the best. Yo, for real -- the people from the islands are the best."