I went about the business of writing my column despite this egregious oversight until the chance for redemption came: No Fraud. Is back. In Sarasota. OMG! The irony is too delicious to ignore and so on Friday night I am dressed in boots and black — with a touch of hot pink — and heading to Pastimes Pub to partake in my first real punk rock show.

I’m running a little late, as usual, so I quickly give my $5 cover to Big Leon at the door and rush to get a view of the stage. Suddenly, I am fully in the pit, pushing and shoving and trying to stay vertical long enough to cross the room. It definitely gets my adrenaline going and when I find to a safe spot and stop to take in the stage I understand. Lead singer Dan Destructo grips the microphone like he’s making love to it (albeit violently) and shouts, sings and chants while the guitars and drums thrash behind him. The dudes in the pit take in the energy from the band and crash into one another with their own ebb and flow. It’s chaotic, it’s loud, it’s raw and it’s real. Photos and Interview with Dan Destructo after the jump!

The guys on the floor don’t care if their shirts gets dirty, or if they leave without a shirt for that matter. The pit has it’s own rules and rhythm, first and foremost: help your fellow mosher when he or she falls — and yes there are a few brave ladies out there; and one very brave lady on stage. No Fraud’s bass player is a pixie in a pink mini-prom dress with leopard print tights and green Keds. She downs beers like a pro and tears it up on the bass while Chococat watches from her guitar strap.

But I’m realizing you never know who is going to turn out to be a punk rocker, like the guy I definitely recognize as a server from the Ritz or Miss Carissa Warfield, a tall, pretty blond who regularly photographs high-society events for a local glossy. During a break, the band throws on some old-school hip-hop cuts and the dance floor stays poppin to jamz like “Tootsie Roll” till No Fraud returns and shuts the place down.

On Monday morning I’m lucky enough to get Mr. Destructo on the phone (thanks, Cakemangler), just back to his adopted home of San Pedro, Cal. from the weekend in SRQ. “Scott” sounds a little gravely (it’s three hours earlier in Cali), but is happy to talk with me more about No Fraud and the band’s upcoming plans.

The Scenestress: So what brought you back to Sarasota this weekend?

Dan Destructo: Initially, I was trying to just get together to write with the drummer, Walt, who still lives in Venice — I enjoy wrtiting with a human and not a drum machine. So we were trying to start demoing some new songs and then, as usual, what happens is it snowballs and starts being shows. The show we did on Saturday at the Joint Collective was like what we used to do back in the day. We wanted to play an all ages show. It was really fun.

Ss: I didn’t hear about the show at Joint until after it happened.

DD: Yea, if you advertise too much it can get out of control and then you have to start turning people away — I dont want anybody’s place to get destroyed.

Ss: What were your influences to start playing music at such a young age? (Dan was 13 when he started writing and playing with the guys that would become No Fraud.)

DD: Boredom. Utter and complete boredom with Sarasota and Venice. It’s not bad, but sometimes you feel a little limited by parents, teachers, preachers, so we started writing music….

Ss: And how does it feel to play and sing the same songs that you wrote almost 25 years ago?

DD: Sometimes it’s great because I can totally let go because it’s all super natural. It can be a little interesting because you kinda get retrospective dealing with emotions from way back then. But 99 percent of it is still dead on. When I was writing I tried to ask myself,  ’Am I gonna believe this 25 years from now?’ and just tried not to say anything out of spite, tried to make it real — no fraud. We know how to make fun of ourselves but it’s crazy because a lot of the stuff we wrote seems to have more political savvy than many politicians do now. Out of the mouths of babes….

…There was a point in time when I was a little, I don’t know if you would say, embittered, and jadded by it. There was a point in time when music played by live humans was kind of out of fashion, and that was more of a bummer than anything, emotionally. But overall, its always been fun; for sure. We never meant to be a commercial success, which was part of what caused some problems on a personal level within the band. We refused some record deals that maybe couldve helped us out, but on the other hand, maybe those bands that did take deals are worse off because they sold out. Anyway, I’m alright!

…The set we played [at Pastimes on Friday] was actually all the songs recorded off our original demo tape from ‘85. We have interest from a few different labels in re-releasing the demos and some extras and are working on new material as well…Now we can send each other songs over the internet, or do video chat. It’s different but it’s cool.

Ss: Do you have any tattoos? Your unmarked chest really stood out during the show.

DD: No, I dont have any tattoos (laughs). It’s becoming more and more part of culture, so now I stand out more. I just never thought it would add to me. Maybe it was my way of being different.

Ss: And what was with the Beanie Babies everyone was throwing during your set at Pastimes?

DD: My parents still live in Sarasota/Venice. My mom had a bunch of Beanies Babies out and was wondering what to do with them. Without asking, I just took them to throw them out at the show. It ties into the tattoo thing — just being whatever the hell you are.

Ss: I’ve discovered via Facebook that your are “in a relationship” with the lovely lady playing bass at the show, Evangeline…

I’ve known her for years, since I moved out here, and I knew she was a bass player, but when we met I wasn’t actually looking for a bass player. It blossomed from there. We needed somebody and she said “let’s try it.” Eva is the first girl ever in the band though. We try to continue break new ground.

-The Scenestress

Learn more about No Fraud at myspace.com/nofraud or become a fan on Facebook.

See more of wildlife/punk rock photographer Mark Burrow’s work at wildlifeservicesfl.com.

And become a fan of The Scenestress on Facebook and follow on Twitter. Because it’s really cool.

The Wienermobile, photo by James De Mass

Well, the Ketel was certainly flowing on Saturday, but on Sunday morning the sunshine was prying apart my curtains and telling me to get up, go out and do something on this beautiful day. Who am I to ignore that call, especially after weeks of chilly days and downright cold temps at night? I got a friend, a blanket, and some snacks at Publix and hit the bay-front park off 14th St. to bask in the sunshine for the few hours it lasted.

I wasn’t the only one enjoying the brief change in weather as evidenced via my Facebook feed: People were thrilled to get outside for the Downtown art fair both Saturday and Sunday — even the Oscar-Mayer Wienermobile was out around town; I kept seeing it pop up in photos too. We’ll see if the weather lasts but it seems as if spring is sproinging in Sarasota, and season is finally actually starting. Certainly the success of the first-of-its-kind Noise Ordinanace CD Release Party is a sign of more good things to come.

Photo of the Cock & Bull at night by Peter Acker

I sadly missed the event, where 35 local bands played all day at Cock & Bull Pub. Instead I spent the evening with family in Tampa, celebrating my lil’ bro’s 21st b-day (shout-out!). We started with dinner at the dimly-lit Malio’s Prime Steakhouse, where a number of our fellow dinners were attired in tuxes or satin and glittering jewels, claiming they were off to the Gasparilla Debutante Ball (though no record of it exists on the web — surely it can’t be real if it’s not online).

After dinner, it was time to drink — we were celebrating a 21st after all — and lil’ bro chose Peabody’s to do so, a sports-bar around the corner from USF’s campus. As the frat boys piled in I found a spot in the corner to sit back and take it all in: young men in polo shirts talking up Mom, young ladies with Coach bags talking up Dad, and everyone trying to pour as many shots as possible into lil’ bro. Good times. Dad stayed sober enough to get us back safe to SRQ, but an hour car-ride with family after a few drinks can be akin to the ninth circle of hell. Family-drinky time should carry the same rules as polite bar conversation: avoid religion, politics, and discussion of non-present significant others. Love my peoples but I was all too happy to get out of that car and back to homebase.

I didn’t get back in time to go see DJ Supreme1 at Ivory, which was probably a good thing because I hear the after hours was a late one. And, on this particular Sunday, I would rather be in the park enjoying a beautiful day than up drinking…well I’m pretty sure about that anyway.

It was one of those days that makes you remember why you love this town: Near perfect weather, beautiful sea and sky and happy people taking the dog for a walk or filling up the boat for a day on the water. Enthusiasm is returning after so much time being cold and hiding indoors, and I detect a new spirit of collaboration in the air. All week I’ve heard whisperings of a new and improved Fringe Film Fest this April as well as the first news about local art collaborative S/ART/Q’s new show in March. The organizers of the Vinyl Fest are scouting locations and talent for this year’s summer music festival and are also promising bigger and better. Do it, people. If Noise Ordinance got 35 bands — and that means god-knows how many narcissistic musicians — together for one kick-ass show just think about what else we can accomplish for Sarasota. Keep up the good work people!

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While the ‘Dash sisters headed to neighboring hotspot Coco Deville, I bopped down the street to the GQ Party at the Bud Light Hotel, where what’s usually the Doubletree Surfcomber Hotel has been taken over by the Budweiser marketing gurus and turned into a beery extravaganza, down to the monogramed towels and mints. The party was a bit of a sausage-fest, aside from the paid hostesses shakin’ it in little tiny shiny dresses. Chart-topper T-Pain arrived shortly after I did with a twelve-deep blinged-out posse, and I am sad to report that I did not recognize the singer and failed to snap a photo. I thought he always wore a big stupid top hat.

Anyway, I watched T-Pain “DJ” from the VIP lounge with retired footballer Clayton “Vince” Holmes and his big shiny diamond Super Bowl ring until I couldn’t stand the hype man cutting into the beats anymore and got the hell out of there. Check out all my photos from night one after the jump. Tonight I’m off to the ESPN party at the Fontainebleau and if last year is any indication it should be poppin.

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Regular faves like Horsefeathers’ biweekly Drag Queen Bingo never failed to entertain, with a barrage of inappropriate language alongside a healthy dose of gambling, and the other corners of Sarasota’s own little Bermuda triangle also kept me busy (including one memorable ladies’ night at the now-defunct Esca). In May I familiarized myself with all Southside Village has to offer, making some new friends and crawling into the office the next day with one helluva hangover. I also hit the beaches for margaritas at the little-known Lido Key Tiki Bar and a Sunday pool party at The Colony organized by Klauber dynasty offspring.

We were lucky to have some fabulous special events in town too, starting as always with the Sarasota Film Fest, a week of crowded rooms, Szambelan and B-list celebs. The first outing of the funkdified Vinyl Music Fest was a smash success — with packed clubs all over the city and chance encounters with superstar DJs the norm. My own star-turn came when I happened upon blond bombshell DJ Diamond in the ladies’ room and she invited me to spend the rest of the evening chillin’ with her up in VIP. Another great addition to the scene was the Ringling International Arts Festival, where I caught Mikhail Baryshnikov checking out my rack before we all filed into the theater to enjoy the offbeat cabaret performance of musical maven Meow Meow.

One thing the RIAF may have lacked was visual art, and this year I searched statewide for interesting artists. Here at home, the first ever Arts United paired live artists and live musicians downstairs at Esca, making for a thoroughly stimulating evening. I also journeyed to St. Pete more than once for the swinging shindigs at ArtPool, a gallery/boutique where owner Marina Williams incorporates fashion shows, live music and ever-rotating artworks into a party as vivid as one of Williams’ own wacky ensembles. But the mack-daddy of art events this year had to be Art Basel Miami Beach, the largest art fair in the United States, and my weekend in Miami left me wide-eyed and exhausted, certainly the marks of time well spent.

The only celebrity I spotted at Basel was my favorite Batman (Val Kilmer — try not to laugh), but Super Bowl XLIII in Tampa brought me up close and personal with Lindsay Lohan, Evander Holyfield and John Legend, among others. My top celebrity meeting of ‘09 was when the Hasidic reggae star Matisyahu played Jannus Landing in June. Matis invited me via Twitter to a sit in on a short live set at WMNF Tampa, and I was really impressed with how talented and genuine the singer was in person, taking the time to stop and chat, pose for a picture, and sign a copy of his new single for me.

I did not get to meet Britney Spears, tragically, but the pop starlet’s show in March at the St. Pete Times Forum was actually my favorite review to write, exploring the dichotomy between a real girl on stage singing and dancing, and the mythic character “Britney Spears” has morphed into. We all have our masks, though, don’t we? And speaking of masks, let’s talk about mine. In last week’s issue, I made CL contributor MC Coolidge’s “Naughty & Nice” list, earning a gold star for dishing marginally useful/entertaining information, but also a demerit for not being quite cruel enough to warrant my anonymity.

Point taken, Ms. Coolidge, and thus I offer you now, Sarasota, The Scenestress’ New Year’s resolution for 2010: to be consistently more ruthless. Over the past year I’ve learned a lot about this new job of mine, and about Sarasota as a whole. In my work I’ve always attempted to stay positive and focus on the good in this city, instead of offering the serial disparagement many critics seem to rely upon. But let’s be honest: Everybody likes a hint of snark now and then. And so while 2009 has been a lot of fun, in 2010 I promise to always bring you the story behind the story, whether it’s pretty or not. And surely, Sarasota, you won’t let me disappoint.

I thank you, dear readers, for a wonderful year, and for your continued support and devotion. I owe you the same. Cheers and Happy New Year!

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After strolling just 20 feet into the Miami Beach Convention Center, the Basel epicenter, I am dazzled by the swirl of it all. The giant white walls stamped with masses of color transport me to a strange world, one inhabited exclusively by elegant people carrying designer handbags, with the soft hum of their many different languages hanging in the air.

I begin by wandering aimlessly, gaining my bearings and trying not to stumble over pieces of avant-garde sculpture jutting into the path. The Basel big-wigs selected over 250 international galleries to participate, and major players — Deitch, Gagosian — are set up just inside the entryway. The blue-chip galleries’ artworks are not labeled with the artists’ names — I suppose because an original Koons doesn’t need a label, and if you have to ask, well then you’re not who the people at Gagosian want to talk to anyway. Among all the super-big-name artists, though, I find a few new favorites, and their work tends to be neon-colored or to make use of text. (Is it obvious I’m a writer and a child of the ’80s?) If you are so inclined, check out the strong colors and shapes of brothers Gert and Uwe Tobias and the semi-representational/semi-creepy work of Albert Oehlen.

After I pass Val Kilmer in the hallway, sporting a cowboy hat and looking much slimmer than he has of late, it’s time to GTFO and give my feet and eyeballs a rest. I head around the corner to Lincoln Road, an outdoor mall with plenty of bars where I can enjoy a beverage while watching the crowds roll by. Things you don’t see in Sarasota: good-looking same-sex couples holding hands, cops on Segways and Gucci man-bags (except when Sarasota Ballet director Iain Webb rocks one, of course). I end my Friday at the divey Club Deuce with a few PBRs while a Keith Richards look-alike sitting across from me alternately poses for photos and makes out with one of the three girls crowded around him.

Saturday is rainy and chilly, but I manage to make it over to the SCOPE Miami Art Fair in the hip Wynwood area by late afternoon. Scope is one of the top satellite shows in town and and is a bit edgier and more affordable than the main fair — if thousands of dollars for a piece still counts as affordable. I am again thrilled by lots of bright colors, like in the work of Jen Stark, Sara Carter and Shawne Major, and am also pleased by the number of female artists represented. Aside from the main rooms, SCOPE houses a special Art Asia section, with lots of shiny sculptures and meticulously arranged objets d’art as well as a separate Art Market with edgy goods for sale from mostly local artisans.

As SCOPE shuts down I dawdle down the dim streets to see more of the Wynwood district’s regular artsy inhabitants, popping into dozens of small galleries ranging from fun and funky to clean and stark. At the Fountain Art Fair, another pop-up satellite show, the work gets even wilder, predominantly centered around sex, capitalism and spray paint. One artist has built himself a fort in the midst of his booth and stands atop it in a dirty bunny suit listening to mid-’90s New York rap. The scene is super-hipstery, with fake bags of cocaine lying on the bar top and skinny boys in tight pants chatting up even skinnier girls in ugly glasses. I’m once again hitting an art-saturation point and duck into Miami mainstay The Vagabond to chill out and wild out as the night rolls on. Before I know it, the clock strikes 5, which may or may not mean I called it a night and went home. . .

My weekend in Miami has been everything I’ve hoped: art up to my eyeballs, lots of crazy characters, and a few great clubs with kick-ass music. You can count on my return to Art Basel 2010, and hopefully earlier in the week next year for the official vernissage and even more celebrity sightings.

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If I have one concept to impart in my weekly time with each of you it is this: The scale and scope of happening hotness in this town continues to impress me, and we have those of you who are getting out there and making it happen to thank for that. Last week in particular, those awesome folks were numerous and varied. Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

Monthly dance party Soap has become something of a guilty pleasure for me. Guilty because Wednesday morning at the office after a night downing PBRs and whomping it up with Skiffle & Co. is generally a particularly tough concept. On this particular Tuesday, however, due to the Thanksgiving holiday, I secured a glorious Wednesday off. “It’s party time,” my pink hoop earrings seemed to be saying, so I plugged them in and headed to the Cabana for an extra-special Soap with musical guest Gil Mantera’s Party Dream, all the way from Ohio.

I was not familiar with GMPD before the night began but I must say their show will not soon be forgotten. I arrived as I Kill Pxls was finishing up his future-crooner set and made the rounds in the familiar dark smokiness of the Cabana. Bartendress Carrie, with a flower in her hair, had a drink ready for me before I could get to the bar top, as usual, and I greeted her and BF Jake Dubber aka Shock to the System, as he rocked out with his signature lightning-bolt-arm. Local faves This Is an Adventure took the stage before the Party Dream began and cemented their standing as a crowd-worthy act once more with their live rendition of “Fantasy.”

I knew I was in for a treat when three guys in black and red Adidas tracksuits arrived and carried a total of nine beers on stage with them. I was parked directly in front of Gil himself and his black studded gloves drew attention to his finger work on the keyboard while Ultimate Donny on guitar kicked it out center-stage. The dance floor filled immediately and I worked it out with the best of them until the boys couldn’t possibly throw out another ’80s dance move and bid goodnight with a finale of their synthy hit “Elmo’s Wish.”

Being the intrepid reporter I am, I followed the band “backstage” into one of the Cabana’s actual motel rooms to ask them some stupid questions like, “If you were an animal, which would you be?” Scruffy-faced Ultimate Donny’s answer: “I wouldn’t want to be an animal. I like being who I am.” Say word. The Dream boys and I enjoyed a screwdriver before it was time to shut it down for the night and they took off in their ultimate Ford Winstar van. Although they didn’t light their junk on fire as anticipated — something to do with the band’s parents being in the crowd that night, perhaps — GMPD was a rowdy, raw, wild show, the likes of which we certainly do not see every day in Sarasota. Come back and visit, boys!

After a very hearty traditional turkey day I was almost on my feet again by Friday night and hurriedly threw on my version of dancing shoes — patent open-toed pumps, natch — to join local PR maven Gayle Williams for the opening night of the Sarasota Ballet’s performance of Giselle. I snagged possibly the last open parking spot in downtown Sarasota and rushed into the Opera House just in time to get a program and fall breathlessly into my seat as visiting maestro Emil de Cou lifted his baton.

This was my first ballet since childhood and I was truly enthralled by the beauty and grace of the dancers’ movements. I loved watching the ballerinas flit about the stage, alternately playing joyful, murderous and everything in between. The second act of Giselle was even better, as the 20 ballerinas in beautiful white dresses — representing ghostly scorned lovers — all danced in unison while the single male dancer bounded fearfully across the stage.

The festivities continued that night at Urban Reef, aka the old Esca. I suppose I had been subconsciously boycotting the new place, but E.J. Porter’s invitation to his latest event, Black on Black Friday, the follow up to his successful Ultra White Affair at G.Wiz a few months back, was more than I could resist. As I described last time, Mr. Porter and his crowd know how to throw a party. Both floors of Esca — I mean Urban Reef — were closed to the public for the event and delicious spreads of food were lying in wait as well as two-for-one drinks and a great mix of classic soul and hot new hip-hop.

I’m not sure it’s possible, but the people were even more glammed up for this party than the last, with men in stunner shades left and right and ladies showing off shoulders and stilettos despite the chilly temps. By midnight, with the club completely packed, the doors were shut for the night. The event was surely a success, including one memorable moment getting trapped on the staircase with about 20 other partygoers when the rooms were too full to let anyone up or down. And what do you think we did? Start our own hallway dance party, of course.

The dancing continued into the wee hours on Friday. On Saturday, I rested. Something about beauty sleep? Yea. Sunday morning I was happy to drag myself out of bed and down to the CL offices to chip in with a little neighborhood clean-up prior to Rosemary Rising this Thursday — “Sarasota’s hippest holiday walk” if you didn’t know. After a little honest labor it was time for The Kidney Koncert, a benefit at The Children’s Garden for local bartender and friend to all Eddie Sager’s battle with kidney cancer.

In this just-off-the-beaten-path venue, friends of Eddie gathered to enjoy live music from Nino Pinelli, Tim Salem and Passerine among others, as well as a delicious whole roasted pig and old-fashioned mac ’n’ cheese, plus all the wine and beer you could drink. The dark night, cool air and whimsical garden was the perfect backdrop to conclude my week with one last pinot grigio. It feels great to be a city with so many caring, creative and enthusiastic people in all walks of life.

Bring it, Sarasota! Whatchu got next?

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After a late Saturday night ending in an impromptu pool party at a residence on Longboat Key, the  jaunt to the Colony provided everything I needed to enjoy my Sunday. I said “hello” to the brunette bikini-clad Miss Klauber, and went straight to the grill for a burger and next the bar for a bloody. My posse and I grabbed a seat on the sand and enjoyed some serious sustenance and getting acquainted with our surroundings.

The event may have been under-attended, but the sun and sea were shining and the temperature near perfect. The beach noise of the water and the wind mostly drowned out the change-in-the-dryer-like tunes and I was happy like a clam. I did fight quite a battle with the seagulls, one particularly daring bird making off with most of a friend’s lunch, but kind grill-master Jamil was happy to replace the stolen dog.

By late afternoon a number of movers and shakers arrived to support the Colony’s golden girl including daddy Michael Klauber and local charity doyenne Graci McGillicuddy, looking bright with hot-pink flower appliqués on her jacket and jeans. Kenroy Simmons, local fitness trainer and 2009 CL Lust Lister, also grabbed a seat by the pool and noshed on some chicken wings. The gray-hairs and hot bodies gathered poolside right next to our DJ, ostensibly enjoying the thumpin’ grooves.

My overall verdict? Club Colony got me out of the house and onto the sand, which, despite the fact that I live in sunny Sarasota, I do not do as often as I would like. Bring your friends, your bathing suit and a sweater, and relax pool- or ocean-side while you spot some of Sarasota’s big fish enjoying white wine and techno music. Miss Molly tells me the Colony may host one more Sunday pool party before “winter” is upon us, but hopes to make the event a weekly activity come spring. (Stay tuned to CL for the details as they are available.) Chilling beach-side with a burger and a bloody Mary? It just makes sense.

Upon arrival a nice young man led me upstairs to the reception while sharing a little history about the building, which was actually built in 1926 and was at one time, among other things, a gentlemen’s club. A server greeted me promptly to offer a drink, after which I greeted a few other Loaf-ers and played spot-the-rival-media-groups (I tallied a few from SRQ Magazine and The Observer, with whom I very politely shook hands when introduced).

Well-dressed Manager Amanda Kastor stopped to welcome us as we enjoyed some fruit and cheese and to tell us a little more about the restuarant’s entertainment plans, including monthly theme parties as well as live pianists and full bands performing on the weekends in the courtyard and/or upstairs.

If you can, take advantage of their almost-all-day Happy Hour, which runs from 11 a.m. to 7 p.m. and picks up again from 10 p.m. to 1 a.m. (the kitchen is open late, too). With what looks to be a strong team in the front of the house, and a capable crew in the kitchen, the First Street Chop House is on its way.

Monsieur Depp is a gentleman, a scholar, and a sexy mothrf*ckr. Check out my own personal photo montage at right.