Who knew that a metal band formed by two kids in fourth grade could be this bone-rattlingly, gut-rumblingly brutal? OK, so it's true that Arturo Garcia and Guillermo Gonzalez, elementary school classmates and lifelong pals, are all grown up and 20-something now. But they started shredding together at the ridiculously precocious age of 10. (Side note: If any CD-R rehearsal recordings of these then-preteen rockers are collecting dust and scratches on a shelf in an A/V room somewhere, please send via same-day courier to Miami New Times, 2750 NW Third Ave., Suite 24, Miami, Florida, 33127. Gracias.) By their late teens, Garcia recently recalled, "We were both playing all kinds of different styles, we were in different bands, we were gigging musicians a lot, playing jazz, Latin music." But they soon focused on Cave of Swimmers (formerly known as the Tunnel), a two-man experimental sludge band that seemingly emerged out of nowhere to crush the skulls and liquefy the minds of Miami metal vets, including Orbweaver's Randy Piro, who has since proclaimed, "Literally, they're one of my favorite bands right now. Weird, awesome shit."

Music is best enjoyed with a little mystery, so we won't hold it against Sluggers that they keep their identities secret. It must be the duo's way of letting the music speak for itself. And with beats like these, there's no use for talking heads. The crew has released killer jams through happening labels Fool's Gold, Mad Decent, and Slow Roast, and has lately remixed big names like Diplo, opened for Kill the Noise and Mat Zo, and nabbed a gig at Ultra. Their signature tracks, such as "Richie Rich," "Courtesy," and "Turbo Fade," leave revelers simultaneously dancing like strippers and looking over their shoulders for ghosts. Sluggers' beats are dark, but they're also hauntingly sexy, hitting you with a hip-hop edge rounded out with tons of eerie sci-fi space bleeps. It's an amalgamation of tastes boiled down and perfectly simmered in one heaping pot of I've-got-to-hear-that-again. Don't be surprised when their faceless logo is plastered all over the scene in coming months.

If music is a journey, Austin Paul has been strapped into one of those new Virgin Galactic rockets blasting off into the stratosphere. Paul had moved out of his strict Christian parents' Miami house for only a bit more than a year when everything changed for him. That's when Pharrell proclaimed the then-20-year-old Magic City native "the future" and doors began cascading open for the singer-songwriter — from a showcase at Bardot to a chance to collaborate with luminaries like Timbaland. But lest you think Paul has been the beneficiary of a famous backer, it's his music that speaks for itself — a spooky, soulful mix of R&B vocals, glitchy samples, and minimalist beats that echo James Blake and the XX. Rather than be glossed with pop sheen, his compositions find a lyrical sweet spot that establishes a deeper connection with listeners. Paul's journey is just beginning, but it's clear we're already ready to strap in alongside him for the ride.

From the fuzzy bass line to its opening shot of a fierce-looking field hockey club, it's obvious from the outset that the Jacuzzi Boys' "Double Vision" isn't your typical feel-good music video. In fact, the three-minute 13-second flick packs more punch than many other, much longer movies. Director Corey Adams subtly alludes to Greek mythology while delivering a sexy and slickly produced punk-rock video. At the beginning of the video, four beautiful women armed with weapons, bizarre makeup, and six-inch spike heels meet in an underground tunnel. They pour liquor into one another's mouths while dirty dancing and performing other suggestive acts, like licking a bowling ball (one of the video's enduring images). When one woman hurls the bowling ball down the tunnel, however, it's an early hint of the girls' destructive side. Sure enough, the song's hook — "You've got to t-t-t-take it apart" — is fulfilled when the women come across an old man in his car. They attack the vehicle, pull the geezer out, and smash the car's window with — you guessed it — the bowling ball. Then they toss the bewildered, bearded senior citizen into the back and drive crazily into the countryside, along the way force-feeding the old man swigs of liquor. The video and the song reach a furious frenzy when the car comes to a stop on a dusty path in the middle of nowhere. The women tear off their clothes — and that of the old man — before climbing atop the car. As the old guy sits in the dirt, staring up at them dancing lustily atop his stolen car, Jacuzzi Boys guitarist Gabriel Alcala launches into a soaring solo. The old man, now enthralled by his captors, beckons for them to come closer. But the women instead blow him a kiss and take off in his ride. The video is a clever meditation on music and inspiration, with the four women as modern-day muses. Or, perhaps, they represent the maenads that would wander the countryside, drinking and making love with Dionysus until the party suddenly reached a fever pitch and they would tear their host to pieces. Adams' music video is inviting us to think about youth, sex, drugs, and destruction — issues at the heart of the Jacuzzi Boys' music.

You've got a lot to live up to if you claim the domain name "The305.com." It would be a true shame to waste digital real estate on throwaway vacation tips or links to time-shares. A site with a name like that — "The 305" — has some serious standards to live up to. Thankfully, The305.com doesn't disappoint. It's now a bit of a pan-cultural blog, but the lifeblood of this site still remains Miami's nightlife and hip-hop music scene. It was the first to jump on some of Miami's emerging talent, such as crooner Steven A. Clark, Monk, and Eskeerdo, while still supporting successful hometowners like Rick Ross and Pitbull. Of course, mixed in with The 305's music coverage is info on how to live your own baller lifestyle, with features on events, fashion, and the art scene as a bonus. It's the best game in town, and don't even think about trying to compete by registering The786.com. That domain name just redirects to The 305 anyway.

Futures in Arctic ice shelves. Horse-and-buggy stock. Donald Trump hair-care products. There are some investments conventional wisdom dictates smart business people in the early 21st Century simply should not make. Sadly for ink-stained scribes everywhere, "daily newspaper ownership" falls squarely into that category. So it's a measure of just how far up the visionary business genius charts Jeff Bezos has rocketed in recent years that when he bought the Washington Post last summer for a cool $250 million in cash, investors reacted with cautious curiosity instead of sprinting for the exits. It shouldn't have been a surprising reaction, though, considering that Bezos' Midas touch has created one of the great post-Steve Jobs business empires in America. His path to glory started right here in Miami-Dade County, where Bezos graduated as valedictorian from Miami Palmetto Senior High School and won a Silver Knight Award. In 1994, after graduating from Princeton, he founded Amazon.com and has rarely stopped wrecking expectations for what an online bookstore can do. As his personal fortune has ballooned to more than $20 billion, he's revolutionized web shopping and shown few signs of stopping. (Check out his latest plan to deliver orders by drone.) Can he reboot the similarly moribund daily newspaper business? Time will tell, but based on his track record, Bezos is one Miamian the dead-tree business should be thrilled to have in its corner.

"I didn't come here to make history," Lauryn Williams told the NBC crew in Sochi, Russia. But the silver medal gleaming around her neck told a different story. It's a tale of speed, transition, perseverance, and — yes — ultimately, of history. The Pittsburgh native came to South Florida in 2001 to run track at the University of Miami. She is just five-foot-three, but — as competitors on the field soon learned — there's a nuclear power plant's worth of energy stored within her. Williams turned her collegiate career into a shot at the Olympics and, just after graduating in 2004, snagged a silver medal in Athens in the 100-meter dash. Eight years later in London, she added a gold medal to her collection as a member of the four-by-100-meter relay team. And then a curious thing happened. In the airport on the way to a track meet, a fellow star mentioned a curious idea to Williams: The Winter Games were coming up. Why not give bobsledding a try? Sure enough, after just six months of training, Williams' sheer power earned her the job of brakeman on a qualifying team. And on the course at Sochi, her sled nabbed second place, earning her another silver medal. In the process, the pride of Coral Gables became the first American woman ever to medal at both the Summer and Winter games. But as the soft-spoken speedster told NBC, all that was subtext to the thrill of competing — and winning — at a new sport. "Making the history part is just an extra bonus," she said with a grin.

For a decade, Chad Johnson was one of the best professional football players on the planet. But when a big-money move to the New England Patriots didn't work out, the man once known as "Ochocinco" was 86ed from the limelight. He moved back to his native Miami, signed with the Dolphins, and married reality-TV star Evelyn Lozada. Life was good. Shortly before the season started, however, Johnson was arrested for allegedly head-butting Lozada. In a matter of hours, he was dumped by his team, wife, and most of his fans. But as New Times revealed in a profile of the beleaguered baller, Johnson may not actually have attacked Lozada. Either way, he tried to put his broken life back together by spending time by himself and with his one, unwavering friend: Lolita the killer whale. Johnson, who grew up in Liberty City, had been fascinated by the animal since first seeing her decades before. Now he would come to the Miami Seaquarium by himself and watch her leap like a wide receiver out of her cage. One day, after everyone else had gone, Lolita's trainers invited Johnson onto the slippery platform in the middle of Lolita's pen. He crouched down on his knees as if praying. Suddenly, the orca emerged from the water in front of him, its open mouth revealing a line of sharp, six-inch teeth. Johnson leaned forward and kissed Lolita on her pale, pink tongue. Then he leaped into the air as if once again celebrating a touchdown. For a moment, the pain and penury of the past year was gone, and Johnson's smile was as wide as the orca's. "I don't need a woman when I'm tonguing a killer whale," he said.

How good a guy is Paul DiMare? Well, in 2012, he and wife, Swanee, saw a car swerving all over the road up north in Massachusetts with two kids in back. They noticed the driver seemed drunk and called cops, "which quite possibly could have prevented a fatal car crash," according to a local TV station. Then this spring, Paul and Swanee pledged $12.5 million through the Paul J. DiMare Foundation to the University of Miami. About half of it, $6 million, will support scholarships at the Leonard M. Miller School of Medicine. UM's Frost School of Music will get $2 million for a new recital hall. And money will go for athletic scholarships and other athletic needs. The DiMares are among the Southeast's largest fruit and vegetable packers. They are also damned fine people.

In this city, the moniker "power couple" usually denotes old and wealthy. But how about a pair who are young and influential? Look no further than Sean Drake and Michelle Leshem, who under the name Supermarket Creative guide Miami businesses to new heights of coolness and brand awareness. When they aren't busy promoting others, they are actually DJing around town. Drake has already opened for legends like John Digweed, while Leshem spins as part of the Ess & Emm duo with her friend Sasha Lauzon. Together these women have spun at countless high-profile events and for a while even enjoyed a residency Thursday nights at Set. If you manage to break into the couple's close network of friends, you'll enjoy invites to plenty of hush-hush events and private house parties. Their names may not a grace a local museum just yet, but Drake and Leshem's stamp of approval already carries plenty of weight around Miami.

Best Of Miami®

Best Of Miami®