This interview was conducted prior to Lara Coppola leaving Studio A on August 22, 2006. The introduction and interview have not been changed to reflect this.

Last March, an uncollected pack of young Miamians and ball-capped students stirred into Downtown’s self-proclaimed rock discotheque, Studio A, with the self-aware curiosity present at a high school dance. To paraphrase the Wipers, “was this real?” The venue’s breezy open dance floor shimmered with dizzying spiked punch hues and large chandeliers hovered with campy regality, awaiting hipster excess.

Leading up to Studio A's unofficial opening, there was hardly any local buzz, but when you consider that the pricey venue remains without precedent on the mainland, and that the youth-culture scene is currently scattered about and unfocused, it's not so surprising. Many people in the know seemed skeptical of the venue's intent, as if it was an alien temple set on leeching off the legwork of the city's longstanding electro-rock deejay nights, Revolver and Poplife, and once competing venues like SoHo Lounge and I/O. But after several months in business and many top-tier indie acts, Studio A's future remains dubious, and even worrisome for the city's youth culture at whole. The venue's vital business ties with New York clubland elite like Georgie Seville and Robert Nowak, discussed below, mean that lots of important eyes and publications are watching and perhaps waiting to make a move. (Rumors of Miami migrations for Rotten Apple staples Twilo (true) and CBGB (thankfully false) only heighten matters.)

Such territorial nightlife pissings are not our bag. What matters in hindsight is that we caught Kemado Records’ Diamond Nights practically within walking distance of our HQ at a sweet venue parked across from stripper-haven Gold Rush. The fact that 99% of Miami and 98% of its culture journos are like, who the fuck is Diamond Nights, is just part of living here. Studio A's location in the seedy Entertainment District is, yes, ironic, because it has become a maternal, forgiving tit of sorts, what with Revolver’s bloated, jiggy corpse now parked there on Fridays after a business meeting or two at The Daily (before being sold to the Supermarket), and Lauren Reskin and Carmel Ophir’s Plastik Fantastik (now with Poplife support) positioned as Downtown Miami’s most agreeable and tasteful indie dance night. Oh look, there’s Fancy from FannyPack. Oh look, there’s TheCobraSnake snapping a makeshift (no Luke) 2LiveCrew with exclusive dibbs. The usually friendly bouncers were swatting at flashes so violently that plenty of young egos in tight jeans got their wings. Miami’s flick of the wrist---that of a younger heavily mascaraed, tangerine Miranda Priestly wannabe---is on pause.

Below is an interview with two of the venue’s primary personalities, the aforementioned Fancy and Studio A’s PR dabbler and Nancy Spungen dead ringer Lara Coppola. It was conducted poolside at The Standard, before co-founder Pedro Mena cashed out, allegedly for the wedding chapel (he was a no-show the day of this interview) and before Studio B opened in Brooklyn. And yes, this is no history of record, and no, according to Lara Coppola there is no plan at this time for a third venue.

[laughter]

Lara Coppola: Just so you know, we both suck at giving interviews.

ignore: Great. Thanks for telling me.

[laughter]

So how did the venue come together exactly? For the most part, it still seems rather vague in the press. Who involved started that first bit of correspondence between New York and Miami?

LC: Ok. Well Georgie Seville [founder of NYC’s Motherfucker party] contacted me a couple months before the club was supposed to open. Pedro Mena was already involved, and it was him and Georgie. Then I came in and then Fancy came in after that.

Fancy: I think the story is that Georgie has family down here and Pedro is sort of from here. They had hung out and just seen each other out, you know, and I think in some drunken bar talk they were like [surfer bro / guido voices] “We should throw a party down here.” “Yeah man, that’d be great.” And then the owner of The Delancey had been looking at property in the area and he, uh, Georgie had mentioned it to Robert [Nowak, owner of The Delancey] and Robert, being the guy who makes quick decisions, abruptly called Georgie and said [in foreign globe-trotter voice] “Remember when you were talking about throwing a party down in Miami, well I just bought a club so you and Pedro go do it.”

LC: And then I came in! And I built the whole thing with my own hands.

Lara, what exactly is your background in nightlife? You’re kind of the Miami connection in this, or no?

LC: Background? I’m the only kind-of local in this whole thing. I’m 305, the only one.

Fancy: County of Dade.

LC: County of what?

Fancy: County of Dade. It sounds better. Misses 305. Don’t you listen to Pitbull?

LC: Umm, no. Okay. I threw parties. I used to work at the Pawn Shop and I used to do monthlies at Revolver with my friend Sebastian who’s now at Rok Bar. We had this little production company called Sid & Nancy Events, and I also started that rock ‘n’ roll room called The Pharmacy at Back Door Bamby. I met Georgie just partying in New York. I met Pedro first and he introduced me to Georgie.

Why did you feel you wanted to stay in Miami or did you want to stay here?

LC: I kind of wanted to leave. I graduated college and I thought I was going to go to New York, but I just stayed.

Fancy: She was kind of hitting the Miami cut-off age. Nobody lives in Miami past 24. If you noticed, there’s no such thing as a 25-year-old in Miami. There’s like a 35-year-old, but for those 10 years it’s a really iffy demographic.

When this club opened, it seemed like a significant risk, because there isn’t much of a demographic beyond 25 that listens to rock like the one in New York. It’s a very young scene. Was that looked into, or was this a very spare of the moment?

LC: It wasn’t looked into at all.

Fancy:That’s how rock ‘n’ roll we are. Miami is actually a real city, it’s an international city. And there is no real live venue, which is strange. And the demographic for live music is much different from the demographic for nightlife.

LC: There’s no live music at all.

Fancy: Any city in the world has a certain amount of people who want to see live music. It’s a very musical city. They have their own Sound Machine.

So, that’s what you feel was missing from Miami: live music?

LC: Don’t you think so?

I do. I also think it’s a bit insane how Studio A suddenly appeared.

Fancy: Years and years of focus groups. There’s going to be a condo complex next door with live music. Live music condominiums.

Has Miami met the expectations of everyone involved?

Fancy: In what regard?

I guess there wasn’t any regard.

Fancy: With our expectations being zero, yes.

Another thing is that when you’re opening up a venue of this size, you need local press. You don’t have a really strong local press. What are your relations to the press here, not much?

Fancy: We’ve gotten a lot of press in New York, actually. Which is, in a lot of ways, the same thing. In the fall, the population of Miami changes. Like 60% of the people in Miami is from the North East, a huge amount of people.

Is this the New York takeover of Miami?

Fancy: This is the Miami takeover of New York. We’re sucking people away from New York. I knew nothing about Miami coming down here, and I knew maybe too much about New York. New York’s not nearly as cool as people think and Miami is a lot cooler than people think. I know everyone in Miami complains about it and they all want to go to New York. But New York in the past five years has been kinda crap, as far as culture and nightlife and even music to some extent.

LC: What? Do you not like going to Misshapes and listening to the Strokes?

Fancy: It’s much tamer than people think. There’s been a lot of legislations that have made it very difficult for New York to be cool or have a free atmosphere for fun and creativity. And Miami has that. I don’t know if they take full advantage of it.

LC: I think he may be referring to underage drinking here. And that is what is fun to Fancy.

[laughter]

Fancy: I’m talking about drunk 18-year-olds. This blows my mind every time. When I come to the club on a Thursday or Friday, I see people walk in and they walk straight to the dance floor and start dancing - like, commence dancing. That’s what they’re there for. In New York, it’s not like that at all. New York thinks it’s so cool that it’s like, “I don’t even dance. I don’t even have fun. That’s how cool I am.”

Do you dance?

LC: He’s way too cool for that.

Fancy: Nah. I’m way too drunk. But don’t you think that’s true, Lare?

LC: Sure. I dance.

But there’s still an edge to New York –that word – that doesn’t exist here. I guess it’s more fun to try than to already belong to something that’s substantial. What has been the watershed moment for Studio A, one that might define it now and in the future?

LC: This is when I start talking shit about people.

I mean, do these moments even exist for you guys?

LC: They do, there are just so many Hunter.

Fancy: When Puffy and I drove the Benz right inside the club with Lara on the hood. That was good.

LC: Topless.

Fancy: Then I fingered an 18-year-old.

LC: Let’s come back to it.

What happened with the Rub [Studio A’s first legitimate Friday party, it folded shortly after its debut]?

LC: So disappointing. It just died. Isn’t that sad that it died, isn’t it sad?

It seemed like it would work, because it had that bit of ghetto flavor that you need for a Miami party, then you have the very inclusive party atmosphere they offer. And no big electro records that are “huge in Europe”…

Fancy: It was too abstract for Miami. This is another strange thing about Miami. The Rub in New York is, like, that’s just how people deejay. This is something I learned coming down here. There’s a certain New York style. We call it “hip hop and classics,” which really simply means party stuff when you go out. That’s what every single place does. There is no dance music in New York, well there is, but nobody cares about it. Like in Miami, they have an actual word: open format. In New York, ‘80s and hip hop that’s just called deejaying. Miami sees that as two separate levels. Miami is also very segregated, people-wise and musically. There’s parties for black people, there’s parties for white people, and there’s, like, clubs for house music, everyone gets their own space and there’s really zero sharing.

Is that what Studio A is attempting to bring, is that the goal?

Fancy: We have a much more populist view of nightlife than the typical Miami club. When we brought Revolver in, it has a certain history and association with the indie crowd.

Why bring in Revolver? Isn’t it true that there were early negotiations as far as bringing it to Studio A and you guys shut them down? Besides money, what was the factor that played into finally bringing it on?

Fancy: It’s [Studio A] too big for what Revolver was at that time. There’s wasn’t a good enough scene to maintain it. At that time Revolver was at Ultra Lounge and it had 30 people. It had lost its infrastructure. The other concession for bringing Revolver on was that as a venue we wanted it to expand its scope. That’s why you hear a lot of hip hop at Revolver as well as typical Revolver-ish stuff - top 40 stuff. We’re trying to make it more New York, so that it has a more general… a more diverse audience. Downtown especially is heavily promoter driven. It’s not like having a beautiful hotel that already has 1,000 people and plenty of traffic. There’s no stuff down there. Even the most established [nightlife] places in that area are run by promoters.

Do you want to be a cultural center for Downtown?

Fancy: Beyond the stuff that pays your electric bill, and as far as culture, we do want it to be a place that stays around for a while, the place people tell you to go to that has a lot of history for live bands. It’s kind of the first of its kind.

So the venue plans on remaining rock oriented? You wouldn’t venture into any “house rock?”

LC: Hell no. We don’t want to venture into any A.) reggaeton or B.) any sort of house, but we can have Lil’ Jon and Pitbull.

What’s wrong with reggaeton? Explain why you would never have reggaeton.

LC: What do you mean? It makes me want to cry, ‘cause it’s awful and it’s a horrible depiction of our city. It sucks.

Fancy: I like it.

LC: Fancy really likes fat Goth chicks, I might add. He’s obsessed. If I was Goth and maybe 50 pounds overweight…

Fancy: You’re like one Sharpie away from being completely Goth.

LC: Don’t you think the hair gives it away. There are no Goth blondes.

[laughter]

When people walk into Studio A, what’s the look and design supposed to communicate?

LC: I want to say something really cool. You know the writing outside? The logo? That’s Pedro’s writing. We were searching for a logo two days before we opened and nothing was working. Crap logo after crap logo. That’s his handwriting.

Fancy: That’s actually like a good microcosm of how we view the place. As soon as you say…the first thing you’re going to get is a guitar shaped like an A. My biggest battle is wanting it to not resemble a theme bar. Like, a Planet Hollwood. Like, this is what rock ‘n’ roll looks like, it’s got zebra prints, like it’s a cheesy theme bar or an amusement park ride themed rock ‘n’ roll. I’ll leave out some of the examples around Miami. I’m not going to mention any murals, but I’ve seen some murals. It’s a mural of Jimi Hendrix and Mick Jagger. They make a lot more money than us, so I guess they’re alright, but I wouldn’t be able to go in there everyday…

LC: I don’t mean to talk shit, but look at Rok Bar. That’s what people think of rock ‘n’ roll in Miami.

[pause]

Back to the theme bar, is there any fear that Studio A will start to carry too much weight for Downtown? Because if so, then it becomes that sort of cliché “everything club.” There’s not much competition, so it becomes this watershed venue in Miami, especially with the addition of Revolver, it becomes a mall of sorts.

Fancy: I don’t mind that. I would like it to become what you’re saying. We’re never going to do it the wrong way. Just because…our instincts don’t go that way, we keep a watchful eye on the authenticity.

LC: Just for the fact that we have that live music aspect, it couldn’t become that. Why don’t more people start opening things? It’s because they’re scared. You don’t know how much shit the press has talked about us: every live venue in Miami has closed, et cetera. But if we don’t try, we’ll never know. But there’s also an internal war going on that you don’t know about.

Fancy: It’s a rock ‘n’ roll mafia. People are viciously territorial and proprietary about their shit in Miami. In New York, that doesn’t happen. Oh, you’re throwing a party the same night as me? Cool. I’ll stop by. If anything, I’m glad that we brought that: why are you all fucking with each other? Not that that we’ve succeeded, because Thursday and Fridays are at war. It’s wasted energy and hopefully we can lead by example.