If he has to reach waaaaaay down, Jesus will pick you up. Oh, yes he will! If he has to reach waaaaay down, Jesus will pick you up. Down in the ghetto! Waaaaaaaaay down. Down in the valley! Waaaaaaaaay down. Oh, yes he will! Oh, yes he will! Oh, yes…
What We Are Missing Why beat up on Liz Balmaseda? After reading the piece “Buying Time” by Rebecca Wakefield in the issue of June 27, I feel compelled to write. First I think Jim DeFede’s addition to the Herald is as good a move as they’ve made in a long…
Ol’ Scraggy Blue Eyes Not everyone in my building hates the homeless: I own a condo here in the Helen Mar and I just wanted to tell you that I thought John Lombardi’s “The Heart Goes For a Haircut” was a great story (June 13). I rarely read the New…
No one will ever see the video. The man getting a massage in the first frame is dead now, gunned down last January at a gas station on South Beach. The police don’t know who did it, but that’s not the reason this video will never be released. If the…
All About My Brother They’re here, they’re queer, they’re relatives: Well, I’m surprised to hear that Manny Diaz’s brother is gay; like does everyone have a gay family member? (“They’re Here, They’re Queer, They Vote,” Brett Sokol, June 13). Alex Penelas’s brother is quite out and proud, which means the…
Let’s be clear on what kind of town this is. This is a place with great recording studios, phenomenal producers, and engineering wizards, so if you’re a big star and you’ve got a hefty budget, you can lay down tracks here as good or better than anywhere else. Doesn’t matter…
What does Jorge Diaz look like? “I’m just your average Cuban,” he jokes over the phone before a lunch meeting with Kulchur. Well, not exactly. True, Diaz arrives at Coconut Grove’s Monty’s restaurant dressed in a crisp white guayabera and slacks. And despite apologizing for what he calls a sweaty…
Of Ramp Rats and Cheap Men What do you mean only in Miami? Well, maybe: That was an amazing story by Kathy Glasgow about ramp workers and what they take from your luggage (“Ramp Rats’ Revenge,” May 30). I have to accept the veracity of your story and interviews, but…
No matter how many times it happens, the moment still stuns. A star shoots from the firmament over Latin America and lands somewhere in Miami: On this June night, Celeste Carballo touches down on an armchair in the corner of a dimly lit living room in the Design District, balancing…
Sadiq and E-Trap were talking about Saturday’s Mike Tyson/Lennox Lewis heavyweight championship fight from their stools near the stage at Big Mac’s Foxy Lady Lounge, 1800 NW 79th St. in Liberty City: “Mike comes in light — under 220 lbs.? — he will knock that faggot out!” E-Trap predicted confidently…
Got a Gripe? Take It Elsewhere, Pal Yes, I know this is the land of free expression, but give me a break, okay? Regarding Alfredo Triff’s article about the vandalism at Maxoly Art Cuba gallery (“Anatomy of Suppression,” May 23), I would encourage all foreign militants to take their wars…
In the usually dead hours before dawn, when house lights are dark and the streets of Wynwood silent, an unclassifiable din explodes from speakers hooked into a laptop on the patio behind Two Last Shoes. If the neighbors called the police to complain, what would they say? There is an…
So Stupid They Must Work for Castro Who? Those idiots over at Vigilia Mambisa, that’s who: While I always cringe at New Times articles criticizing el exilio, I must say Alfredo Triff’s “Anatomy of Suppression” (May 23) was well deserved by those idiots over at Vigilia Mambisa. In no way…
Last year Smilez and Southstar wandered around Miami Beach on Memorial Day weekend just like the rest of the hip-hop hooligans scoping out the honeys and gawking at the stars. Their names weren’t on any of the lists at the clubs on Washington Avenue. Their rhymes weren’t pressed on vinyl…
Party Pooper Memorial Day will be a disaster: In response to Rebecca Wakefield’s story “Anatomy of a Party” (May 9), I see disaster coming on Memorial Day weekend, a disaster in which everyone loses and no one wins. Are the Miami Beach town fathers so greedy they have to invite…
It’s a sound that’s swiftly showing up everywhere, like a suddenly trendy drink embraced by the masses as the perfect tonic for the times. A bracing mix of tough and tender, sweet but street, that somehow makes everybody feel aa-ight in these strange, uncertain post-9/11 days. Switch on the radio,…
It’s a recent Saturday night, you’re tucked behind a VIP table inside Lincoln Road’s Spin nightclub, and the hip-hop beats are thumping. Supermodel Naomi Campbell sashays over — she hasn’t seen you since her birthday party last summer in France — and snuggles in to share a glass of champagne…
“You want my prediction for Memorial Day Weekend?” asks Rudolf with a mischievous grin. The Billboardlive nightlife director pauses a beat for dramatic effect and then cracks to Kulchur: “It’s not going to be nearly as interesting as last year.” That’s certainly the message the city of Miami Beach was…
No Brahms, No Alms If you don’t play it, he won’t pay it: I don’t understand how Rebecca Wakefield could use terms such as “hodgepodge” and “misguided mishmash” in referring to WLRN-FM’s pre-1999 programming (“The Battle for Bach,” May 2). Perhaps her head was filled with some real “misguided mishmash”…
Not since Simon & Garfunkel repackaged “El Condor Pasa” with English lyrics has a Peruvian export scored as much play in el Norte as 31-year-old singer-songwriter Gian Marco. Sure Susana Baca’s treatment of Afro-Peruvian tradition makes her the darling of the world-music crowd and alt-rock act Libido has been making…
Celebrities Are Different from You and Me Yes, they can skip the velvet rope: Regarding Brett Sokol’s “Kulchur” column last week (“Oops, She Did It Again!” April 25), what’s the big deal if underage Britney Spears goes to a nightclub? As if Brett didn’t know that everywhere in the world…
Sometime past midnight a heavily tinted black Mercedes pulls up to the gate of Circle House, the posh private North Miami recording facility owned by reggae veterans Inner Circle. The driver cracks the window and extends an arm to activate the intercom, his long dreads brushing across his dark skin…
