Pre-Basel Weekend

A correction first: thanks Lolo for giving us the heads up that the Art Loves Music show will actually be Gang Gang Dance, and not Yelle. 

Other things going on include the talented and lovely Nektar de Stagni's season opening. Visit her store and buy something. 

I would suggest taking it easy this weekend, since Basel's so intensely exhausting. Don't forget to go to Churchill's on Saturday either! 

Here are more flyers. 

Tonight there's the ever affordable Fridays at Vagabond, free entry before 11, $1 Stellas and PBRs before midnight, and always a live performance! 

There's also this new night:

More music, for real, bro.

I forgot to post the exciting news that Quintron and Miss Pussycat are playing at Churchill's this Saturday. Gotta check it out. Afterward, you can shake that Miami ass at the Poplife party at White Room with Spank Rock. Dino is playing a new night tonight, Mausoleum. 

Below my life truism are the flyers with more info. Get out there and do something, since I'm too lazy to move from my couch. 

This is appropriate, no?

Basel Music, bro

I missed the recent Broken Social Scene concert up in Pompano, but that's ok, I have no money and Art Basel is next week. 

I wanted to write about two shows coming up. I don't know how anyone got this info before I did, considering I've been stalking and scheming to find out who this year's Art Loves Music artist is, but they did, and it's Yelle. I assume it's because they have pull and stuff, and I just obsessively check websites. Yelle is fine and good, but I am just imagining a sea of sandy kafiahs. For the past few years though, I've been sneaking into the Deitch Projects private concert event which takes place at the same time as this show, and usually features someone I whose album I actually own. I'm not saying more, because I don't need any competition at the door. 

The other exciting news I've known about for a bit, but which I didn't write on because I am unsure of the cost. Casiotone for the Painfully Alone will be performing at NADA's opening night, next Tuesday. Last year it was Deerhoof, and it cost like $15 to see the band, with free drinks, and it wasn't packed. I'm hoping this year will be the same, though I've read it's $50. I think the show starts at 8. 

There's also Of Montreal and the Firey Furnaces in Broward at Revolution on Dec. 6. The show is kind of early, so I think you might have to trade Wynwood for the next county up. 

An after Basel delight involves me watching David Byrne at the Fillmore, Dec. 13. I can't wait! I'm going to be the other person in the room with gigantic shoulder pads.  

Mad about Maddow and stealing her stories too, bro

One of these many magazines that my mom subscribes to, and which she forces upon me, listed Rachel Maddow as their "girl crush." If you don't know, Rachel has her own show on MSNBC, is openly gay, and bears a striking resemblance to my very handsome, gay, male friend. She is dry and intelligent and very likable; a good "girl crush" if you're into hot, manly ladies. The reason I bring her up was because I wanted to bite two stories off of her that were highlighted on her show today. 

1. This super nice, farmer couple opened up their farm to fellow Coloradans to take, for free, the leftovers from their harvest. 40,000 people showed up. Amazing, no? Read about it here. 

2. A football player from Florida State University, Myron Rolle, was awarded the Rhodes scholarship. Go 'Noles! For real, dawg.

Thanks Rach. You made me feel better about scrounging for food, and about having received a degree from the same school as a football playing, genius overachiever! And that's for making the news more enjoyable for people with very short attention spans, like myself. 

Guest Blogger: From Miami to London, Crystal.

I've asked my best friend and "UK Correspondent" to write about his recent jaunt at a London hotspot: Crystal. The reason we agreed this would work is because we have a club Crystal, right here, in Miami. I heard about his crazy evening overseas, and I thought, we need people in Miami to know that there is a very different club by the same name on the other side of the pond. Here it goes. 

Before I begin, I should give you a little background about myself.  

Londonbro and Miamibro go way back. How back? Back to the middle-school days of bagged lunches and sitting in a small enclosed concrete patio, not fitting in. Some years later, Miamibro and Londonbro scammed and plotted to get into some of the best clubs on South Beach (when South Beach was still cool and you had more of a chance of running into Madonna than some chicks from Atlanta). Nineteen, pretending to be 21, jumping a red rope when no one noticed, jumping in with a big group of well-connected people so that you blended in as one of their large crowd. 

So now, we're mostly grown up and the only thing that's changed is that we don't live in the same city, but the love for a good time and nightlife still remains. Also, Londonbro is gay. Gay nightlife in my new home of London is accepting, vast, and diverse, which is very unlike my former home of NYC. In NYC, it's geeky boys to the right, muscle boys to the left, posh boys this way, trendsters that way. Although I prefer gay clubs, as someone who puts bread on the table through a job in finance, I have no shame partying with my straight, fellow bankers. 

Typically in a suit straight from the office, going out has a simple formula: get as many women as possible to hang with you, overpay for a table in the main room, and then, you're in! Once you get a table, order a magnum bottle of champagne, have the sparklers and fireworks that come with getting it so that all eyes focus on your table, and then laugh and drink it up! 

Sometimes it's hard to take something seriously when you have a past association. In this case, it's Crystal. Crystal, you may say, that's that club on 5th street where my old co-worker from Richmond Heights loved going to! And in turn, I would say – not Crystal in Miami, but Crystal in London! Now, I don't know about you, but I love when life plays a little joke. It's as if all of my life I've been running and building up only to come back to the places where I started. I may have been partying at Crystal in London, but you see, this Crystal had no one of African descent, it only had Russians. You see, over-the-top nightlife in London is dominated by what I never knew growing up in Miami. Namely, millions of super rich kids from places like Moscow, Mumbai (or is it Bombay) and Abu Dhabi, partying the night away. Most of the partying takes place in London because it's annoying to go ALL the way across the Atlantic when you can one-up each other right close to home. 

London Crystal has some of the best lighting I've seen – tastefully changing soft hues, shining through what seems like a curtain of semi-cut champagne flutes, hanging from the ceiling. The sexier women are all in skinny jeans, tight cotton underwear-like tank tops (it's almost winter here), and stilettos. So I danced the night away to redone gay 90's classics ("You've Got to Show Me Love" - another one of life's little jokes) and even showed the little Russian girls some Miami ghetto moves for their amusement. All while having an out-of-body that somehow this place should have more ghetto music, elbow throwing, and leaning back - more Miami.

All in all, I recommend both places. Crystal London is fantastic, but in order to truly enjoy all of it, you have to first visit Crystal Miami.

I Love You, Fox's: Ode to a Favorite Place.

My memories of nights and days spent at Fox's are plentiful, blurry, happy, sometimes dramatic, always loving. I fell in love again with this dark, homey place last night, and I feel something like excitement in the prospect of returning, a feeling that had waned over the last year. 

One reason I became bitter toward my favorite bar was because of these new Tuesday night parties where they play club music and rope off the outside for about 300 children under the age of 24 to come out and loiter. I applaud, the manager, Matt's entrepreneurial ways, however, I love the Fox's of Patsy Cline singing softly from the juke box, when the inside is more filled with laughing people than the outside with awkward stances, and what I miss the most are the old guys who made Fox's unique and gave it stories from many generations. 

One older guy I chatted with quite often was a pilot, and lived with his mother. One cool night, he gave a friend and I a good rundown of his perspective of country music. Fox's is the best place to go in Miami on a cool night. This is a fact, don't know why, it just is. This same guy once made me cry during an intense conversation about family not long after my grandmother passed away. I haven't seen him there in a long time, I think the young people must have asked him to leave. Something about this is tragic, because what made Fox's fabulous was that you could have old Miami dudes chilling with 25 year old girls, and not in a pervy way.  

I remember Alison, with her long, auburn hair, walking by with a red purse and me being drunk as shit, saying, "hey, I have that same purse!" Of course it was mine... left in the john. Years later she would tell the story to other people. And they would laugh. That's family.

My brother, and I spent one hurricane hanging out there, as it was close to home, and cabin fever gets to us quickly. We often go there on Christmas Eve. That's the kind of bar Fox's is, the place you go to wait for a Victorian type of Santa with a drink in your hand. It was there and on that day when we got a call that our then 13 year old dog had gotten lost, and we spent the next 20 hours straight looking for her. We found her, thankfully. 

I have been going to Fox's for drinking purposes for almost 10 years, and I think of all the friends I've drank with there, and it makes me happy. Last night I ran into my friend Henry R. at one of the rounded booths, and I told him that when I think of great times, I think of he and I smoking a cig, chatting out on that low brick wall outside. I think of long conversations of varying intensity and importance all had around those walls. I think that it is the people and the place (and the Patsy) that make Fox's the most important bar that I may ever have in my life. 

There were mad books, bro.

I know I have been slack lately, but I have a few things to write about today. On Sunday, I went to the Miami Book Fair to try and bargain last minute deals with the vendors. If you wait till the end of the final day, usually they'll just give the books away, since they don't want to trek all the way home with boxes of them. I have to say, most of the booths were books in Spanish, so my interest was limited. However a few cool things happened. I'll start from the end. My roommate brought me to the Antiquarian Annex, where one was able to purchase beautiful, well, old, used books. These ones up at the top cost a grand each! No lie. It was really great in there though, they had old postcards, many local historical books, and even a Little Black Sambo, stuff, we can be proud of as a community. 

Before this, though, I met the Grahams at the Books and Books tent. First I was just going to get Sen. Bob Graham to sign a book for my parents, but I ended up becoming bffs with Adele Graham! First off, her name's Adele, and my middle name is Adele. This thrilled us both. She pointed out every other Adele in their very female heavy family picture (there were like 7 of them). I told her that all my cousins' middle names are Adele too. Then I asked if she's of

French ancestry, since my great-grandmother, Adele was French Canadian, and she 

was like, catch this... no, I'm Lebanese! So of course, we talked for another 5 minutes about the fact that we're both Lebos. The best part was that I ran into my friend Sharif who is pictured below in his Everyone Loves a Lebanese shirt, and I told her about it. She turned to Sen. Graham and was like, listen to this... so I told Bob that he needs to get one of those shirts, since he loves a Lebanese lady. I think Sharif (like a good Arab), is going to make some of these shirts to sell at the Our Lady of Lebanon annual church festival (mmmm... good food). Anyway, the 

Grahams rule, and when someone asked Adele how much a book cost, she was like totally unflustered and not snobby about it. The person who asked, once they realized her identity, was all, "uh, excuse, uh, me. I'm sorry." And she was like, "I'll tell you, just let me find my glasses." 

I changed my mind about Bobby Flay.

I used to think that Bobby Flay was an incredible prick, but today, I changed my mind. 

I am obsessed with DIY shows, travel shows, and my longest running and greatest passion is watching other people cook. When I was in elementary, middle, and then high school, the highlight of my week was waking at 11-ish on Saturday, making myself some tea with milk, eating some anginetti cookies and watching cooking shows and then, of course, Eastenders. This might lead you to believe that I was a pathetic, homely sort of gal, and I was, I didn't date till I was like 17 (18), so thanks for reminding me. 

I didn't think much about good old Bobby until a few years back when I was living in New York and my friend Lorraine was crashing with me for a few weeks. We watched a lot of TV, because that's pretty much all there is to do in Harlem after dark, well, that and smoking crack. Anyway, we were watching Iron Chef, and it became clear that Bobby never loses. And on top of that, he can't cook anything but southwestern cuisine. I mean, they give him bok choy and he makes it with salsa. We seethed with Flay hatred, unsuccessfully willing him to lose. 

Since then, the show Throwdown with Bobby Flay was created where the Food Network lies to some restaurant owner, taunting them with the prospect of hosting their very own show. Then Bobby shows up and is like, "psych, you fucking chump!" and then proceeds to embarrass them nationally in a cook-off. I hate when he wins. I HATE it. I just want to jump into the television and beat his cocky, ruddy, face in, and yell, "your accent sucks, cocksucker." Just because, why not?

I spent a few hours today, still drunk from last night, watching the Food Network, and feeling quite pleased. On the last 2 shows, Bobby lost miserably. I liked that. Then also, he has these two white ladies as his staff, and they yell at him like he's a peon, piece of shit, nobody. The thing is that he handled the abuse and shame well, and now I don't hate his guts so much. Iron Chef is on now, and Bobby's about to make squash with a tomatillo mole. I think he's going to lose again, and I'll just like him more and more, and maybe at some point, I might actually root for him to win. Though I doubt it. 

I stole that image from this blog. 

Lincoln, bro. Tonight.

Art Center South Florida, tonight, 6:30-10:00. Check out what's going down on Lincoln Road. 

Last Night - Jacuzzi Boys, Cheap Time

As I get older, I seem to be surprised by how many gender-questionables there are out there. I have always been the sort to obsess about whether I'm looking at a boy or a girl. I mean, if I see someone whose face gives away no gender, has a chest with slight protrusions, and is wearing clothing that can go either way, I am entranced. Maybe it's because I grew up on Saturday Night Live's Pat, and Pat's partner Chris. They were fabulously confusing. 

At one time or another, I have been mistaken for a boy. To be honest, it's happened more than once. A memorable moment was when I was referred to as, "sir." I had short hair and was wearing my General Cinemas uniform, weighing in at 105 lbs and in high school. I bring this up, because last night there was a small bouquet of little ones donning make-up, chin stubble, and maybe-chests.

Last night I went to see the in-store performances at Sweat, which was a worthy reason to leave the lush comfort, though increasingly dysfunctional environment, of my couch. I missed the Electric Bunnies, but I caught the Jacuzzi Boys. They played a notable performance. Everyone has something to say about every local band in Miami and almost all of it is bad. I have similar musical tastes to the JBs, and I enjoy their music. I'm saying I like them and I like seeing and hearing them perform. At the end of the month they're going on tour with King Khan again, and I think that offers them some level of success in my mind. Diego even put on a Michael Jordan jersey after the performance, and everyone likes Jordan. I even wanted Air Jordan pumps in elementary school. Point is, they have style, both in clothes and music.  

Anyway. The band Cheap Time was here from Nashville, and they were good, however, I couldn't get over two things. 1. One of the singers resembled Christian Bale in Velvet Goldmine and 2. they looked like perfectly handsome, clean cut dudes on their album cover, but very dissimilar in real life, the drummer was even a different person. I don't say the Bale comment as a something bad. I was chatting with two very pretty ladies after the show, and Christian Bale got in on the conversations, obviously an opportunist, I respect that, and he was really nice. Also, Bale's hot, so, no insult there. Also, I thought the lipstick he was wearing really flattered his complexion.

Coming up - from Sweat Records

This Thursday at Sweat Records there'll be in-store performances that will end by midnight by CHEAP TIME (Nashville), JACUZZI BOYS and ELECTRIC BUNNIES. Then head over to The Vagabond for JOSE EL REY's birthday party. 

Friday at The Vagabond: RAFTER (San Diego) and CARS CAN BE BLUE (Athens, Georgia).

Another in-store at Sweat, starting at 9 pm, MOD L'ONE, DINO FELIPE and RIMSKY.

Notes from an Unemployed Couch Resident

I have been relatively not busy lately. It's fascinating how you can do so little, rarely leave your couch, for instance, and yet life finds a way of frustrating you endlessly. I spent yet another day loitering on the Web and yet I was met with more and more stress.  

Here's a taste of some of my stressors. I had to go get some pills at the pharmacy. I knew there might be a problem, because, well, there always is. I paid for COBRA this month, to continue my medical coverage. It cost $350, so, you'd think it would cover some of my medical expenses. My pill pack costs about $5 with insurance, and $60 without. You would think maybe after I paid $350 to save me $55, in this instance, that I would be covered. Turns out that COBRA takes a month to kick in, so in fact, even though I'm only covered through Nov. 30, my insurance doesn't kick in until about, hmmm... Nov. 30. The COBRA lady on the phone was very nice, of course, and I get reimbursed for whatever medical care I get this month, but let's take something into consideration. My income is $1,100, and if I want to go see my gyno or something, it will cost me upwards of $300, right? But I have to take from my pathetic income to pay that upfront, only to be reimbursed later. How long that reimbursement will take to come back into my hands, I have no clue.

Stressful instance two. When I was in Berlin two months back, my glasses snapped in half when I put them on after a shower. This was really shitty for so many reasons, 1. I am blind without them, 2. I was in a country where there are few unique, US conveniences like "one-hour" anything, and 3. I don't speak or read German. Duct tape only lasts a few hours, so after weeping, I taped up and went out for a drink. By the morning Eddie, my travel companion, had found the ONE one-hour glasses place in all of Berlin. The dude there was fabulous, but all the glasses cost large sums, I got an average priced pair, and with my expensive lenses, they cost ... 590 EUROS. Yes, Anyway. Two nights back, I awoke to a large scratch on my right lens. I guess the gato either bit or scratched them when I was asleep. Just one more expensive drag on my ass. These were two minor annoyances. These are the expensive ones. There are more, but I'll spare you. I guess it's true that no matter how you try to avoid, it'll catch up with you anyway.