A cursory glance at or a quick listen to A New Found Glory won't likely make you expect overnight success or imminent world domination. But that's because you're not 16 years old. If you were you'd probably know that the Coral Springs band is currently being courted by representatives from a couple major record labels; that their concerts regularly become crowded, sweaty spectacles; and that their new album, Nothing Gold Can Stay, was last year's best-selling locally produced CD. The band's aggressively melodic pop-punk anthems have proved darn near irresistible: A recent standing-room-only affair at Fort Lauderdale's FU*BAR found the band's adoring, earnest fans, the majority of whom hail from local high schools, braving the stifling heat to sing along, hanging on each and every word to each and every song. Clearly something big is at work here. If you're lucky, you're not too old to discover what it is.

A cursory glance at or a quick listen to A New Found Glory won't likely make you expect overnight success or imminent world domination. But that's because you're not 16 years old. If you were you'd probably know that the Coral Springs band is currently being courted by representatives from a couple major record labels; that their concerts regularly become crowded, sweaty spectacles; and that their new album, Nothing Gold Can Stay, was last year's best-selling locally produced CD. The band's aggressively melodic pop-punk anthems have proved darn near irresistible: A recent standing-room-only affair at Fort Lauderdale's FU*BAR found the band's adoring, earnest fans, the majority of whom hail from local high schools, braving the stifling heat to sing along, hanging on each and every word to each and every song. Clearly something big is at work here. If you're lucky, you're not too old to discover what it is.

The mellowed-out Texans who make up the American Analog Set made one of their album titles come alive at this West Palm Beach gig. From Our Living Room to Yours summed up the intimacy of the low-key performance, with the band's rich, orange-red blend of warm organ and electric piano, soft-spoken vocals, tender strumming, and wispy bass lines entrancing the small but attentive crowd. The group's minimalism came through in extremely simple arrangements and lushly quiet melodies that evoked a variety of moods, from haunted to joyous to meditative. Touring behind the then-new release The Golden Band, American Analog Set certainly didn't rock in a conventional sense -- instead, the comfortable warmth of their homemade songs was soothing and satisfying. High points included the beautifully textured "The Wait," which glowed like a fireplace, the ambient-folk epic "New Drifters," and the heady, psychedelic drone of "Don't Wake Me." Anyone with low expectations for this lovely low-impact, low-fi quintet came away with a new respect for simplicity, felicity, and taste. Knowing that magical concerts like this don't come around often, Respectable Street added the phrase, "West Palm Beach Gets Show It Doesn't Deserve," to promotional posters for the event.

The mellowed-out Texans who make up the American Analog Set made one of their album titles come alive at this West Palm Beach gig. From Our Living Room to Yours summed up the intimacy of the low-key performance, with the band's rich, orange-red blend of warm organ and electric piano, soft-spoken vocals, tender strumming, and wispy bass lines entrancing the small but attentive crowd. The group's minimalism came through in extremely simple arrangements and lushly quiet melodies that evoked a variety of moods, from haunted to joyous to meditative. Touring behind the then-new release The Golden Band, American Analog Set certainly didn't rock in a conventional sense -- instead, the comfortable warmth of their homemade songs was soothing and satisfying. High points included the beautifully textured "The Wait," which glowed like a fireplace, the ambient-folk epic "New Drifters," and the heady, psychedelic drone of "Don't Wake Me." Anyone with low expectations for this lovely low-impact, low-fi quintet came away with a new respect for simplicity, felicity, and taste. Knowing that magical concerts like this don't come around often, Respectable Street added the phrase, "West Palm Beach Gets Show It Doesn't Deserve," to promotional posters for the event.

Some folks label the music of Miami's Ed Matus' Struggle "emo," which is ostensibly a shortened "emotional." But since emotional music, to us, encompasses everything from Edith Piaf to Henry Rollins, can we finally shelve the meaningless term? Ed Matus' Struggle just makes good music, no matter what it's called. Since it refrains from capitulating to trendy electronic-dance fashion statements, the group is often lost against the busy Miami soundscape. You have to sit down and listen to the group's jazz-tinged originals to get a sense of how adventurous this band really is -- Ed Matus' Struggle is a lot closer to the late-'90s art-rock of the Sea and Cake or Creeper Lagoon than the radio-friendly schlock of Third Eye Blind. For the last five years, the band has been playing infrequent live dates and quietly laboring on singles like "Entomological Discoveries With Sound and Vibration" and "Planes That Cast a Gloom." (The titles alone indicate a desire to distance themselves from the pack.) So far, out-of-towners have been quicker to recognize Ed Matus' Struggle than have local crowds: Green Day, Mike Watt, Unwound, Jimmy Eat World, and Trans Am have all called on the group as an opening act, and their material has been included on various national compilations. Maybe Ed Matus' Struggle's undeserved obscurity has finally run its course.

Some folks label the music of Miami's Ed Matus' Struggle "emo," which is ostensibly a shortened "emotional." But since emotional music, to us, encompasses everything from Edith Piaf to Henry Rollins, can we finally shelve the meaningless term? Ed Matus' Struggle just makes good music, no matter what it's called. Since it refrains from capitulating to trendy electronic-dance fashion statements, the group is often lost against the busy Miami soundscape. You have to sit down and listen to the group's jazz-tinged originals to get a sense of how adventurous this band really is -- Ed Matus' Struggle is a lot closer to the late-'90s art-rock of the Sea and Cake or Creeper Lagoon than the radio-friendly schlock of Third Eye Blind. For the last five years, the band has been playing infrequent live dates and quietly laboring on singles like "Entomological Discoveries With Sound and Vibration" and "Planes That Cast a Gloom." (The titles alone indicate a desire to distance themselves from the pack.) So far, out-of-towners have been quicker to recognize Ed Matus' Struggle than have local crowds: Green Day, Mike Watt, Unwound, Jimmy Eat World, and Trans Am have all called on the group as an opening act, and their material has been included on various national compilations. Maybe Ed Matus' Struggle's undeserved obscurity has finally run its course.

Drive-ins are a dead breed, and that's a real shame. There's nothing more American than sitting in your gas guzzler, quaffing a beverage, smoking 'em if you've got 'em, and watching a slightly out-of-focus movie through your windshield. Try doing those things at a mall multiplex. The Swap Shop isn't quite like the drive-ins of old. First off, there are 13 screens, each fronted by a little patch of pavement that doubles as a parking lot during the day. The expanse of asphalt doesn't exactly bring back memories -- as we recall, drive-ins were huge, unpaved affairs with one really big screen. No matter. The feeling is still there at the Swap Shop. And the asphalt stays warm at night, so if you spread your blanket, you can soak up some radiant heat should you catch a chill during what passes for winter around here. Load up the kids (if they're under 11 years old, they get in free); stuff the cooler full of Bud (it's allowed); bring some lawn chairs, blankets, and pillows; and have yourself a nostalgic little Saturday night. It'll set you back only $3.50 per adult ticket.

Drive-ins are a dead breed, and that's a real shame. There's nothing more American than sitting in your gas guzzler, quaffing a beverage, smoking 'em if you've got 'em, and watching a slightly out-of-focus movie through your windshield. Try doing those things at a mall multiplex. The Swap Shop isn't quite like the drive-ins of old. First off, there are 13 screens, each fronted by a little patch of pavement that doubles as a parking lot during the day. The expanse of asphalt doesn't exactly bring back memories -- as we recall, drive-ins were huge, unpaved affairs with one really big screen. No matter. The feeling is still there at the Swap Shop. And the asphalt stays warm at night, so if you spread your blanket, you can soak up some radiant heat should you catch a chill during what passes for winter around here. Load up the kids (if they're under 11 years old, they get in free); stuff the cooler full of Bud (it's allowed); bring some lawn chairs, blankets, and pillows; and have yourself a nostalgic little Saturday night. It'll set you back only $3.50 per adult ticket.

Last fall, the average playgoer had to wonder, Did we really need a revival of Finian's Rainbow? Despite a glut of Broadway revivals in New York, the Coconut Grove Playhouse certainly made a good case for the 1947 Fred Saidy-E.Y. Harburg classic, the familiar songs of which -- "How Are Things in Glocca Morra" and "Old Devil Moon" -- are just two good reasons to revisit this story of a man, a woman, a leprechaun, and a battle against racism. Starring Austin Pendleton, the great Brian Murray, and a ferociously talented chorus and featuring a book updated by Peter Stone, the Grove's Rainbow rose over one of the most exquisite examples of stage design you'd ever want to see. (Kudos to Loren Sherman's rainbow of pastel bed sheets, Phil Monat's effervescent lighting, and Marguerite Derricks' choreography.) It also served to remind us that there's always a place for an old-fashioned musical with a great score and a timeless antibigotry statement. Things are great in Glocca Morra, indeed.

Last fall, the average playgoer had to wonder, Did we really need a revival of Finian's Rainbow? Despite a glut of Broadway revivals in New York, the Coconut Grove Playhouse certainly made a good case for the 1947 Fred Saidy-E.Y. Harburg classic, the familiar songs of which -- "How Are Things in Glocca Morra" and "Old Devil Moon" -- are just two good reasons to revisit this story of a man, a woman, a leprechaun, and a battle against racism. Starring Austin Pendleton, the great Brian Murray, and a ferociously talented chorus and featuring a book updated by Peter Stone, the Grove's Rainbow rose over one of the most exquisite examples of stage design you'd ever want to see. (Kudos to Loren Sherman's rainbow of pastel bed sheets, Phil Monat's effervescent lighting, and Marguerite Derricks' choreography.) It also served to remind us that there's always a place for an old-fashioned musical with a great score and a timeless antibigotry statement. Things are great in Glocca Morra, indeed.