Pump Up The Volume from p7 spray paint, they ended up tagging inside the school. Everyone blamed it on me, but I don’t mind. I ended up at South Miami Senior High, and some of Miami’s best DJs went to South Miami.” Between their banter, rumination on the past, and hits from a shared dab pen, Kristaly and Cano prove themselves to be quintessen- tial Miamians, growing up in the very subur- ban area where the Boombox is located. (At the partners’ request, New Times is not dis- closing the Boombox’s exact location.) “I remember my friends and I used to skip school all the time and go over to this little warehouse park to smoke weed, do graffiti — all our little activities,” Kristaly says. “I think it’s funny that we’re throwing these huge par- ties there now, making a name for ourselves. It all came full circle.” “People still do graffiti there,” Cano adds. “Our spot has gotten hit a couple of times. It’s cool to see there are still kids on a mission.” Back in 2019, the guys were putting on a series of events under the name Rewind. They staged their first show at Roots Miami Kava Bar & Eatery in Little Haiti, with local acts on the bill alongside indie-rock outfit Mustard Service, which Cano had seen on- stage at his high school. “Mustard Service performed at the Doral Academy before their first album dropped,” he recounts. “I was finally hearing local mu- sic. I saw Mustard Service as a big deal, even then. It was motivational to know that not only were these people from my city, but they weren’t much older than me and they were doing what I wanted to do.” Early on in their careers as event promot- ers, Kristaly, Cano, and Cala were met with ob- stacles every time they wanted to put on an event. One of their earliest shows almost got canceled owing to logistical hurdles after a friend offered a warehouse space for the night. “He had a warehouse somewhere in Doral that he was going to let us use for a show,” Cano says. “It belonged to his uncle, but when the uncle realized we were throwing a party, he started worrying about the cops and said we couldn’t use the space. It was the day of the show.” Frantic calls to local venues led the partners to Up 2 Some- thing Studios in Wynwood. Though the show was a success, they felt it was time they found a space to call their own. Kristaly’s father had already planted the idea of a venue years before, when he noticed his son was so into music. “My dad has been super-help- ful in guiding us,” Kristaly elabo- rates. “A long time ago, he mentioned how it would be sick to have a place called the Boombox and to make it, like, a square space with really big speakers and shit.” In October 2019, Kristaly, Cano, and Cala secured a space not far from the Boombox’s current location. “Where we’re at now is actually our sec- ond location. For a couple of months, we were using this small warehouse that my friend’s band kept as a rehearsal space.” Cano ex- plains. “The band broke up, and we sort of subleased the place without telling the land- lord. Eventually, we met him, and it was cool. That place was for real a box, like a straight- up cube. The walls were all black and the name just fit. We kind of ran with that, sketched out a logo, and started throwing bigger parties.” Then came the pandemic. The friends had to postpone an event, Operating System 1.0, for which Australian DJ/producer Jensen Inter- ceptor had been tapped as the night’s headliner. (The show eventually took place nearly two years later, on February 25 of this year.) The fi- nal show at the Boombox’s original warehouse was staged on March 14, 2020, and featured South Florida rapper Aster the Gemini. With 2020 in disarray, the up-and-coming impresarios focused on renting and renovat- ing a bigger space. They spent the year holed up, crafting the Boombox. The new space’s first show was held on New Year’s Day in 2021. It was a scaled-back affair, a party posted about only to their “close friends” list on Instagram. It featured Cano himself, along with local DJs Low Earth Orbit and Flipper. “Our current landlord’s father bought this big plot of land in the ‘70s with the in- tention of putting up warehouses and rent- ing them out to carpinteros, jardineros, and mechanics. Most of the tenants around us are just that,” Kristaly says. In the 2000s, long before Wynwood be- came the city’s de facto arts district, the area was known as the Bird Road Arts District, home to a handful of galleries and artists. “This warehouse park was a much more prolific arts district, but then it died,” Kristaly notes. The venue’s location not only speaks to the partners’ roots, but it provides a space to an of- ten-ignored swath of the county. The free and abundant parking surrounding the Boombox is a welcome change of pace, as is the ability to exit and re-enter at will and the orange jugs Lauren Morrell (@laurenmorrell) filled with drinking water for patrons. The venue is also 18-and-over, a stark contrast to Mi- ami’s mainly 21-and-over nightlife scene. These might seem like minor details, but for those who know how difficult and expensive it is to orchestrate a night out in Miami, they add up. “We have a younger crowd, but we like that because we weren’t even 21 when we started,” Kristaly says. “I’m in this because I like it, not because I’m trying to make a bunch of money. We’re not the most professional place, but we’re more professional than your average DIY venue. Like a lot of the people who perform at the Boombox, we’re learning as we go.” The Boombox is far from the first DIY warehouse event space in Miami. Places like this have been popping up and getting shut down for years. In March, cops raided a punk show at the Hotbox, the warehouse across the street from the Corner in downtown Mi- ami. Before that, there was Drip Gallery in Al- lapattah, and before that, Space Mountain at the edge of Liberty City. The Boombox is often compared to Warehouse 229, an event space in Little Haiti that held raves until its closure in 2019. “I want people coming in questioning whether the place is legal or not,” Kristaly says. “What’s cool is that we are actu- ally just as legal as Space or ATV.” Indeed, entering the Boombox feels like stumbling onto an event that doesn’t seem entirely legit. Until recently, the venue had been operating under a special event permit that had to be issued for each show — thus the Boombox’s infrequent scheduling of events. “The reason why a lot of DIY The Boombox's rules are posted for patrons. 88 places that are reminiscent of the Boombox get shut down is that they aren’t doing things le- gally,” Cano notes. “We don’t High-caliber DJs like Danny Daze perform often at the Boombox. want that to happen to us.” Despite operating legally, the Boombox doesn’t give out its location unless you buy a ticket — though it’s not that hard to find. Back in March, around 3 a.m., police cars appeared outside the Boombox, lights flash- ing. A few minutes after speaking with secu- rity outside the venue, the officers returned to their vehicles and drove away. “Yeah, the cops know what’s up,” Kristaly says. “They know there isn’t anything too crazy going on here. They just like to poke around sometimes.” A March 19 blowout served as the last show at the Boombox until its return later this year. During the downtime, Kristaly and Cano are working to fully legitimize the venue in the eyes of the law, allowing it to op- erate with more regularity. “In the next few months, we’re going to le- galize the spot completely,” Kristaly explains. “We’re going to have a nightclub license, and we’re going to be open on a much more regu- lar basis.” While some may bemoan the venue’s growth into a legitimate endeavor, its out-of- the-way locale pretty much guarantees the spot will continue to be a locals-only venue and alternative to a night out in the urban core. “The Boombox was born out of frustration for how things are in Miami nightlife. If you think about the origins of discotheques, they were created by gangsters to wash their money [and] sell more product,” Kristaly says. “The expensive drinks, flashy clothes — they have a history rooted in crime and money. But we’re trying to separate ourselves from that.” “On paper, we may be a nightclub, but we don’t want to act like one,” he adds. “We want it to feel more like a rave. A place where stars are born.” [email protected] MONTH XX–MONTH XX, 2008 MAY 19-25, 2022 NEW TIMES | MUSIC | CAFE | CULTURE | NIGHT+DAY | NEWS | LETTERS | CONTENTS | miaminewtimes.com | browardpalmbeach.com MIAMI NEW TIMES | MUSIC | CAFE | FILM | ART | STAGE | NIGHT+DAY | METRO | RIPTIDE | LETTERS | CONTENTS | miaminewtimes.com Photo by Laszlo Kristaly “ The Boombox frustration are was in born for out Miami how nightlife.” things of BARELY LEGAL PRESS FAST-FORWARD
