The Miami Diaries

FRIDAY Metro Area headlined the Diesel-U Music gig at the Sagamore Hotel. The boys have developed quite a following: Not only did the dance-music cognoscenti turn out to see them, including Lady Miss Kier, but the local musicians took home the Best New Artist trophy from the DanceStar Awards.

Peaches arrived wearing a horrifically fantastic gold-lamé outfit she found at a Miami shop and reported that a hotel guest, upon spotting the raunchy singer entering the posh premises, said, "Oh look, they hired a hooker." She was interviewed poolside by a topless woman from "I poured vodka on her tits," Peaches told me later. "She loved it." The night before she had stunned the staid crowd at the WMC's annual awards show by singing her foul-mouthed tunes and then taking a dive into the pool—wearing an evening gown. Several attendees thanked her for livening things up.

Sun sessions: Nikki beach bums
photo: Carla Spartos
Sun sessions: Nikki beach bums

Miami Boyfriend was there to check out Metro Area, too. He gamely offered his Miami Girlfriends a ride in his SUV limo to the Spin/Vice/Flyer/Tribeca Grand Revolver party later that night. Being sluts for debauchery and excess, we readily accepted, and insisted that champagne be bought. While we made a pit stop somewhere on Washington Avenue, Peaches entertained unsuspecting onlookers by taunting them through the roof. When we finally arrived bubblied up at the SoHo Lounge, the driver gamely pumped the hip-hop triply loud for full obnoxious effect. James Murphy slunk low in his seat from embarrassment, and I said, "Your indie cred's just been shot to hell."

Inside, a blond-haired, tanned, and glasses-less Richie Hawtin danced incognito to 2manydjs' rousing set. DJ Hell said he kept telling Hawtin, "Who are you? I don't know who you are!" Hell confirmed that he has been trying to connect with DFA for his nearly completed album, but "they are too busy with their own stuff. Maybe a remix." And he said his longtime feud with Larry Tee is over and that he might even play Luxx to signify that things are all good. As the evening wore down, things got messier. Miami Boyfriend made me do double shots of Cuervo; later, he made all those taking the limo back home go skinny dipping with him in the ocean.

I smartly departed at 5 a.m. but then, not so smartly, went to an after-party at a certain magazine publisher's rooftop penthouse where Mike Skinner, a/k/a the Streets, and Dominique of Plant took part in unmentionable party activities. Dominique was off his head in a particularly bad way, having fallen into the pool with all his clothes and records. When we arrived he was limping around wearing nothing but a towel. I stumbled down Collins Avenue at 8:30 a.m. like a little girl lost, or a homeless person.

SATURDAY Slept. And slept. And slept some more. Roused myself for the Wall of Sound's 10th anniversary jam at the Sagamore Hotel penthouse, where 2manydjs were once again ripping it up. Wall of Sound owner Mark Jones bobbed among the crowd—which also included members of the Crystal Method and Röyksopp, the latter having played the day before at Astralwerk's annual Nikki Beach party.

At midnight, the debate was "Should we go to bed or should we go to B.E.D.?"—where Richie Hawtin was hosting his super-exclusive invite-only party. We opted for the latter, but by that point, I had to prop myself up against a wall, as Hawtin—who was in techno warrior mode—pounded out a blistering set. As we exited the venue at 4:30 a.m., a friend summed up the evening—and the conference: "That was intense."

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