Broward County boasts more gay bars than Palm Beach and Miami-Dade counties combined, and while most of them welcome lesbians as well as gay men, it's rare to find a place geared primarily to gals. The market is so precarious that when one lesbian bar opens, it seems another closes. That makes Kicks, which opened in 1999, a relative old-timer. It lives up to its claim, "'Sports' is our middle name," by offering four pool tables and four dart alleys. And sporting events are regularly shown on eight satellite TV screens. You'll find ladies of every stripe in the rainbow flag here, from lipstick lesbians to girl-next-door types, coexisting (or competing, as the case may be) in harmony. Men are welcome too, and more than one gay male has confessed to using Kicks as a refuge from male-oriented bars -- as a place where they can have good man-on-man conversations without the distraction of other men cruising them.

Broward County boasts more gay bars than Palm Beach and Miami-Dade counties combined, and while most of them welcome lesbians as well as gay men, it's rare to find a place geared primarily to gals. The market is so precarious that when one lesbian bar opens, it seems another closes. That makes Kicks, which opened in 1999, a relative old-timer. It lives up to its claim, "'Sports' is our middle name," by offering four pool tables and four dart alleys. And sporting events are regularly shown on eight satellite TV screens. You'll find ladies of every stripe in the rainbow flag here, from lipstick lesbians to girl-next-door types, coexisting (or competing, as the case may be) in harmony. Men are welcome too, and more than one gay male has confessed to using Kicks as a refuge from male-oriented bars -- as a place where they can have good man-on-man conversations without the distraction of other men cruising them.

Turnabout is fair play. Strip clubs for men dot the South Florida landscape like royal palms; La Bare is a gutsy attempt toward evening out that number. For those of the fairer sex who crave the sight of buff dudes in scanty duds, your day has come. Consider Israel, a 6-foot-2-inch dancer with dark hair and eyes, whose shtick involves a fur loin cloth and broad sword. Turn-ons: sunrises and champagne. Turnoffs: bad breath. (Girls: pop a minty for that confident feeling.) Groups of ten or more women on Fridays get a complimentary bottle of champagne to go with all the six-packs. Admission is just $10 if bought in advance through the club's Website.

Turnabout is fair play. Strip clubs for men dot the South Florida landscape like royal palms; La Bare is a gutsy attempt toward evening out that number. For those of the fairer sex who crave the sight of buff dudes in scanty duds, your day has come. Consider Israel, a 6-foot-2-inch dancer with dark hair and eyes, whose shtick involves a fur loin cloth and broad sword. Turn-ons: sunrises and champagne. Turnoffs: bad breath. (Girls: pop a minty for that confident feeling.) Groups of ten or more women on Fridays get a complimentary bottle of champagne to go with all the six-packs. Admission is just $10 if bought in advance through the club's Website.

The comfortable songs of Remember the Ocean soothe and calm -- and how many South Florida bands can you say that about? The ochre corridors and smooth wood floors of Ruth, the band's debut, sprawl out like a grandmother's house with a warm scent of home-cooking and a hint of 10,000 Maniacs or the Innocence Mission. Remember the Ocean has clearly come a long way. Earl Coralluzzo's jangly Rickenbacker and Kristin Larkin's full-throttle soul create an inviting coffeehouse acoustic-folk for the new century that's unlike the rest of South Florida's musical tableau. We keep returning to "Warm," with its unforgettable chorus, and the swirling "Summer," the band's de facto theme song. Ruth's nothing if not a square peg in a round hole, but we like the way it fits.

The comfortable songs of Remember the Ocean soothe and calm -- and how many South Florida bands can you say that about? The ochre corridors and smooth wood floors of Ruth, the band's debut, sprawl out like a grandmother's house with a warm scent of home-cooking and a hint of 10,000 Maniacs or the Innocence Mission. Remember the Ocean has clearly come a long way. Earl Coralluzzo's jangly Rickenbacker and Kristin Larkin's full-throttle soul create an inviting coffeehouse acoustic-folk for the new century that's unlike the rest of South Florida's musical tableau. We keep returning to "Warm," with its unforgettable chorus, and the swirling "Summer," the band's de facto theme song. Ruth's nothing if not a square peg in a round hole, but we like the way it fits.

His is not a household name -- not yet, anyway -- but James Paul Wisner's golden ears have certainly made for happy households wherever he has bestowed his magic touch. The crystalline purity of Broward's wonderful Rocking Horse Winner was buffed to a blinding perfection on the band's debut, State of Feeling Concentration, and Wisner extended that courtesy on the sophomore effort, Horizon. The inventive multi-instrumentalist, producer, and engineer (who runs Wisner Productions, his own Davie studio) also suffused Boca Raton's Dashboard Confessional with the translucent elegance that has catapulted its emo-acoustic songs onto the national charts. Stick with him, kids, and you'll go places.

His is not a household name -- not yet, anyway -- but James Paul Wisner's golden ears have certainly made for happy households wherever he has bestowed his magic touch. The crystalline purity of Broward's wonderful Rocking Horse Winner was buffed to a blinding perfection on the band's debut, State of Feeling Concentration, and Wisner extended that courtesy on the sophomore effort, Horizon. The inventive multi-instrumentalist, producer, and engineer (who runs Wisner Productions, his own Davie studio) also suffused Boca Raton's Dashboard Confessional with the translucent elegance that has catapulted its emo-acoustic songs onto the national charts. Stick with him, kids, and you'll go places.

An incredible artist literally peddles his goods in our own back yard but is woefully underappreciated. Par for the course, unfortunately, where bled-dry standards and even less-interesting mendacity can be passed off as jazz music. Recognized internationally as one of the most promising avant-jazz alchemists, Kenny Millions, a.k.a. Keshavan Maslak, is accustomed to performing highbrow gigs abroad. Here at home, however, he spends most of his time at Hollywood's Sushi Blues offering raw fish with an occasional skronk. But the wildly inventive saxophone/clarinet whiz, who has meshed brainpower with the likes of Philip Glass and John Zorn, did offer locals a look and listen this summer with a series of rare live performances on local stages beyond Sushi Blues. The light fare Millions serves with his own Sushi Blues Band is certainly better than a sea urchin surprise but no match for the out-there records he's made with his far weirder pan-Asian trio.

An incredible artist literally peddles his goods in our own back yard but is woefully underappreciated. Par for the course, unfortunately, where bled-dry standards and even less-interesting mendacity can be passed off as jazz music. Recognized internationally as one of the most promising avant-jazz alchemists, Kenny Millions, a.k.a. Keshavan Maslak, is accustomed to performing highbrow gigs abroad. Here at home, however, he spends most of his time at Hollywood's Sushi Blues offering raw fish with an occasional skronk. But the wildly inventive saxophone/clarinet whiz, who has meshed brainpower with the likes of Philip Glass and John Zorn, did offer locals a look and listen this summer with a series of rare live performances on local stages beyond Sushi Blues. The light fare Millions serves with his own Sushi Blues Band is certainly better than a sea urchin surprise but no match for the out-there records he's made with his far weirder pan-Asian trio.