SATURDAY

At the Cock & Bull Pub, a quartet of Florida bass-masters will send the boom and buzz bone-deep with 94WHOMP! Out-of-towners Alexandre (Panama City) and Dubsonic (Ft. Myers) go head-to-head with locals Subcity and  Shock to the System, the original 941WHOMP! big daddy. If you’re old enough to legally enjoy the Cock & Bull’s famous selection of brew, then it’s free to get in. Under 21 (18+) pays a cover of $5. The whomp starts at 8 p.m.

Photo by Aperture Photography.

And guess who’s coming back to pay Sarasota a visit? DJ Sinna-G has been charming the club scene for over a decade. Before she moved out to Denver, she made our local airwaves throb with the “Friday Night House Party” show on WSLR 96.5 FM. Now she’s back for one night only at Prana Restaurant & Lounge, with support from DJs. Goran N. and Simplisstick. The $10 cover gets you one free drink, and be sure and sample some of Prana’s signature tapas! Get there after 9 p.m. with your best club duds on.

Now for the promised blues. I’ve mentioned Come Back Alice before, but this all-star band bears mentioning more than once. Has everyone figured out by now that they used to go by The Tony Tyler Band? Ladies’ night at the Five O’Clock Club ring a bell? At any rate, I never tire of seeing Come Back Alice play … each member is a consummate musician and together their knack for flair is a sight and sound to behold. Plus, they’re just super nice guys. Anyway, enough gushing: you can catch them down at Pastimes Pub this Saturday.

SUNDAY

And in case Saturday’s session with Come Back Alice didn’t give you enough of a blues fix, head back to the Cock & Bull (yes, coming full circle here) for Sarasota Blues and Brews from noon to 10 p.m. Hopefully, the musicians won’t outnumber the audience — dozens of bluesmen and soul sisters are coming together to make some noise for Bud Snyder. They’ll be giving back to the man who helped produce the Allman Brothers, Stevie Ray Vaughan and Jeff Buckley. This will be a family-friendly event with a $10 suggested donation at the door, but you’re encouraged to not let that dissuade you from coming out. Give what you’re able — that’s what a benefit is all about!

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John Lichtenstein rumbles on the bass while Zach Skylab plays the typewriter, of all things.

I have encountered these music happenings known as The End of the Dial Tone Radical Experimental Collaborative Music Band Band, founded, curated and driven by bassist John Lichtenstein, on more than one occasion. I actually stumbled upon the very first one years ago, a thrashy, oddly bluesy affair over at the former Sarasota Olive Oil Company — or maybe it was The Venue then, or Felice’s — I forget. And I’ve caught it in snatches at The Rusty Hook, where it sounded eerily synchronized and surprisingly listenable. Polished, even. But certainly not rehearsed.

As of Monday, I’d never experienced one in its entirety, though, from the first riff to the final strains of the last jam session. So I decided this time, I’d be in it to win it.

Drummer Matt Rogers.

At 9 p.m. in the upstairs lounge of The Gator Club, the TEOTDT crew had erected a veritable fortress of instruments and sound gear. I thought I could hear the floorboards groaning under all that tonnage. The 10 performers threaded their way back and forth through the profusion of stuff, loading up on drinks (which I presume are an essential ingredient to an hours-long group improvisation) and noodling away on their respective axes.

Lyndsay Charlotte, aka "Stormy Angel," tirelessly worked the mic.

Lichtenstein picked up his signature megaphone and unceremoniously kicked the gathering crowd out of the room so he could share “a moment” with his crew. The lounge reopened about 20 minutes later and the curious onlookers padded back inside to range along the walls and sink into the velvet sofas. It was remarkably quiet. Kyla Stevens stepped up to the microphone to open the ceremonies, and began to intone the lines of a Jim Morrison poem. Lichtenstein immediately picked up a low drone, while the flickering of cymbals washed over the room from the two drum kits. We drifted on a vaporous wave of sound until, with the line “Wake up!” the whole ensemble crashed into a frenzied rhythmic commotion.

The roaring from the double drums, two basses, two electric guitars, strings and keys went virtually unchecked all night, punctuated only by the four — count ‘em — four times the band blew out the power. Time ceases to exist in a sonic onslaught like that, so I am still unsure as to how long they actually carried on before instrumentalists started taking breaks. Performers became audience, and audience members slipped into the fray of performers. It was like a game of “Name That Local Band Member”: here’s Leon Kerber from Big Blu House switching out his famous Fender Rhodes keyboard for Fancy Rat member John Ewing‘s bass guitar. There goes Alex Frazzoni of (the) Umbrella Cult, handing off his sticks to Mike Murphy of whatever handful of projects he’s into these days. They all crashed, thudded, shrieked and howled with feedback until, sometime around 1 a.m., I think I heard Lichtenstein announce, “I’m content.” And with much nodding of heads, we’d finally reached the End of The Dial Tone.

Live art from TEOTDT. It totally sounded like it looks.

Someone once told me that the best part about taking psychedelic drugs is the part where you’re not on them any more. I suspect TEOTDT experiences are a lot like that. You smile a little shakily and say, “Whew, that was crazy/intense/wild/educational/fun.” I definitely lost more than a few precious stereocilia (my ears are still ringing to prove it) and I wouldn’t say the ride was always pleasant. But it’s not that often you get to see a room full of musicians, largely strangers to one another, rock out at a blistering fever pitch for hours. Now I feel I’ve officially tried it, and I refuse to knock it.

– She may be having hearing problems, but the Scenestress still wants to hear from you! Say “hi” in an email, or on Facebook, Tumblr and Twitter.

A P-Man's Classic Cycle paint job.

Heatstroke Hot Rod Hoedown … say that five times fast. Better yet, save your energy ’cause you’ll need it for all the hot food, cold drinks and especially the hard-hitting line-up of bands—including two faves of mine, The Strangeways and The Gladezmen. The time? High noon until 10 p.m. The place? P-Man’s Classic Cycle Paint in Bradenton, where you’ll be able to ogle all kinds of vintage chrome. The price? A cool $10, for all this, appearances from the Suncoast Quad Squad Roller Derby Girls and indubitably lots more tuff stuff.

If you’re reticent to leave the Sarasota city limits, then Burns Court Cinema is preparing a wonderful homecoming: Roofless Records is coming back to town for the 10th installment of Cinema Sounds, the production company’s ultra-sensory-overload of a brainchild. Sonic art meets visual art in the darkened arena of the movie hall, featuring Floridian pioneers of brash musical experimentalism such as Skunk Ape and Miami’s Slashpine. It will be loud. It will be intense. For some it will be utterly confusing; for the rest, oddly yet deeply satisfying. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. It all begins at 10 p.m., with $3 draft beers to slake your thrill-induced thirst. Entry costs $10.

SUNDAY

As if I needed any more excuses to hang out at The Blue Owl, now they’re cooking up a cozy Sunday brunch! I can’t wait to meet up with some of the sweetest kids in town to enjoy 2-4-1 mimosas, movies, board games and a little acoustic jamming. Show off your culinary mojo by bringing a dish to share, or bring a few bucks to sweeten the pot. But most importantly, bring your smiles, come ready to chillax and make some great new friends from 2 to 7 p.m.

I spotted Harvey Milk himself at the tap truck.

Saturday at the Harvey Milk Festival … where do I begin? With the stellar musical line-up? With the diversity of the never-thinning crowd? With the vibe of overwhelming positivity? With the amazing location in Five Points Park — “amazing” not only for its centrality and loveliness, but for the fact that an event like this one happened there at all?

I’ll start from the beginning. From the moment I crossed the Selby Library parking lot at 5 p.m., to my near-midnight dance moves, I was speechless with how incredible the day was going. Well, almost speechless. Every time I turned around I found a new neck to hug, and this conversation would happen again and again:

“How awesome is this?”

“So awesome. Unbelievably awesome.”

“Yeah. I mean … I literally can’t believe this is happening.”

Live music, live dancing and live art ... a fest trifecta.

We had a real, honest-to-goodness music festival going on right in the middle of downtown. Somebody pinch me. No, wait … don’t. Let me stand in a tiny sprinkle of rain filtering through the sunshine as I listen to The Sexual Side Effects‘ beautiful front-woman shred the guitar and sing in a rich, rock-and-roll tenor. Let me sit on the grass and watch young families playing with their kids and old couples relaxing on blankets. Let me luxuriate in a celebratory sense of community for an evening.

Gradually, I got over the shock of “how the heck did they pull this off?” and explored the vendors lining the streets. I sniffed goat’s milk soaps at the Simply Spoiled booth, exchanged some high-fives with WSLR radio hosts and shared a sinfully cheesy plate of noodles from the O’Macalicious truck. Meanwhile, the tunes kept cranking from the two stages, with our local groups more than holding their own with the national and international talent. As always, Elysian Sex Drive hit the power-femme funk button hard, and The Send Offs cranked out so much feel-good racket that I almost forgot it was just two guys up there.

Tierney Tough belts it.

I mentioned earlier in the day that I was excited for The Pauses, a band completely new on my radar, and they did not disappoint. To be frank, their sounds held me captive. After the first couple of songs, lead singer Tierney Tough winked down at us and asked us to name our favorite band at the festival. “Yoooou aaaaare!” a few friends and I hooted, and I really meant it. Good thing for me and others who, to quote Anthony Paull, “like their grit with a bit of gloss,” that these guys make their home base well within reach in Orlando.

By the time The Pauses finished completely rocking my world, I really could have used a bench to sit on. Yeah, I said it. But I found the cocktails to be both refreshing and fortifying, and now that the sun had set, the park glowed gorgeously under twinkling lights. My star bartender Steffan McManus had to take a break from mixology and jump onstage to thump the bass with MeteorEYES. It was good to see Shannon Fortner, the festival’s head honcho, take the much-deserved spotlight with her band. By then, the festival had been pumping for more than five hours and I still felt undeniably lucky to be there. How lucky Sarasota is to have groups of young people so passionate for a cause, that they’ll put in the ferocious amount of work to successfully throw a big, beautiful party like this.

– Check out lots more photos from HMF on the Scenestress’  Facebook page!

FRIDAY

If you have some free time on your hands in the morning, a thirst for fitness and perhaps a need for a Mother’s Day gift, don your leotard and head over to Pure Barre Sarasota for their tuck.sip.shop event. From 9:30 a.m. to 1 p.m., all are welcome to enjoy refreshments and browse the boutique, featuring some juicy lip glosses and scents from Simply Spoiled, plus Stella & Dot‘s Summer 2012 collection — corals and bangles and beads, oh my! And if you’re ready to try the pure barre method, be sure and sign up for a spot in the 10:45 a.m. class led by Sara Ferguson. No entry fee required, just a donation of brand new children’s underwear or socks (valued $10-15, please), which will go to Mothers Helping Mothers. You’ll feel the burn and the warm fuzzies all at once.

SUNDAY

Sunday’s the big day to show Mom how much you love her, even if she drives you a little crazy all year. (It’s probably a mutual feeling, y’know!) However, every time I’ve brunched at the Half Shell Oyster House it’s been impossible not to relax and enjoy my company at the table. Not to mention those $3 mimosas and Bloody Marys simply can’t be beat. For Mother’s Day, the Half Shell is doing something extra special: All moms will have a chance to enter in a drawing to donate $100 to their charity of choice! Do me a favor and put in a good word for the “Thirsty Unshod Columnists Fund,” willya?

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I love bluesman names ... that's "Manatee Mike" in the middle.

It feels good to be back, very good indeed, and last Sunday I wanted to celebrate by trying a restaurant I hadn’t ventured into before. My date and I swung into Southside Village, one of my favorite neighborhoods, and upon stepping out of the car, Ocean Blues immediately caught our eye — or should I say, our ear. The hiss and pop of a trap set wafted out to the street, along with a guitar line doing mellow loop-de-loops.

“How ’bout it?” my date asked. I was totally down. If hunger is the best seasoning, live music must be a runner-up.

Thus we discovered Ocean Blues’ Sunday night open jam. A placid-looking quintet on the small stage opened up a version of “Black Magic Woman” while we scouted for a seat in the crowded bar. All throughout the restaurant, musicians were tuning strings and oiling valves, getting warmed up for their turn on the bandstand. Just as we were about to settle on a spot in the next room, a perky hostess cleared off a table for us right in front of the stage.

Ed Kinder ditched his shoes!

I’d like to think the servers were far too busy to check on us, but after that we were ignored for the next couple of tunes. It became pretty pointless to try and hold a conversation within close range of the amps, so we flagged down an apologetic waitress and ordered up some food and drink to keep our mouths as busy as our ears and eyes. In the meantime, a changing of the guard took place onstage, and in a blink we had a whole new house band, complete with a little brass section. Only Ed Kinder, the silver-haired keyboard player, stayed put.

“Oh my god,” I heard my date exclaim as the new line-up launched into a strident rendition of “Route 66,” “that guy was my eighth-grade math teacher!”

A pair of couples instantly hit the floor, and our order hit the table soon after. I crunched my way through spicy jalapeño ravioli and sipped on a Pom-Tini — sweet, tart and frosty — and sat back to enjoy the people-watching. The crowd was a middle-aged one (by Sarasota standards), and they looked like they’d been loosening up on the $5 martinis for a good while already. A man in a straw hat (of which there were an abundance that night) adopted an intense look of pleasure as he and his dance partner cozied up to one another. Another gent in penny loafers, obviously his “dancin’ shoes,” must have swung every dame in the room around the floor at least once throughout the night.

Whole cranberries bob on the surface of the White Cosmo. Very nice to look at ... not so much to eat.

Did my date and I join them? Oh, no … we recognized we were outdone. Not even my second martini, a tart White Cosmo, lent me enough courage to try and wiggle my way in. It’s an unfortunate generational discrepancy — we kids are pretty sorry dancers compared to our elders. Even the oldest couples sweetly rocked together, cheek-to-cheek, with such tenderness that my heart melted. I felt more than happy just to watch.

The band changed up again. This time, things took a turn for the funky and the dance floor nearly filled. It was after 10 on a Sunday, and it appeared the party was only getting started. We threaded our way through the grinning crowd and out the door — a little reluctantly, on my part. But I’m glad to see that, after a little over a month of existence this jam has established itself beautifully; and whenever I feel like my weekend can’t quit just yet, it’s there for the taking.

– The Scenestress has a lot of catching up to do! Get in touch via email, or on Facebook, Tumblr and Twitter.

Little Billy sure isn't shy!

A farm is perhaps the last place you would expect to run into the Scenestress — it falls somewhere down there with mandatory community service and the African bush — but last Sunday, you’d have found me at Geraldson Community Farm tucked away in the northwest corner of Bradenton, where I sipped fresh-squeezed lemonade, worked on my freckles, cuddled baby goats and kicked off Sarasota’s Eat Local Week in style!

I happen to think the locovore movement is incredibly hip. After my first foray into eating local at Indigenous, I’ve come to crave that freshness found in food that comes from practically next door. I like my produce to have personality. It’s nice to know exactly where it comes from — to shake the hand that grew the stuff.

This was a great place to pick up chicks.

As the sun beamed down on wide-brimmed hats and sandals, I browsed the market stalls, checking out different flavors of local honey (the best and most delicious remedy for seasonal allergies) and snacking on some Bonni Bakes treats. Then I hit up the produce stand hardcore. I loaded up a bag full of organic vegetables, some of which I honestly have no idea what to do with. Mustard greens? White eggplant? I admit they’re still lurking in my crisper, waiting for the moment I get adventurous. I’m taking any and all recipe ideas so I may discover the joys of kale and kohlrabi.

The only potential damper on the afternoon hatched out of the ground right around 2:30: lovebugs — a ton of them. Thinking I’d play sweet farm-girl for a day, I’d worn a white sundress, and it so turns out lovebugs are attracted to white. They were a huge fan of the Scenestress … but trust me, the feeling was not mutual. I almost swallowed them every time I opened my mouth to talk. I’m all for eating local, but I do have to draw the line somewhere.

Kinda hard to tell whether this silkie is coming or going ...

In my attempt to lose the swarm, I followed bleating and clucking sounds over to a makeshift pen, where three adorable goats and four or five chickens came and went as they pleased. The woman obviously in charge of this little menagerie informed me the chickens that looked like they were wearing furry caps were “silkies,” the sweetest and tamest breed of chicken. “They’ll sit on your couch and watch TV with you,” she said.

“Watch your feet!” one weathered farmer advised me, and I looked down to see a trio of goslings inspecting my huaraches. The lady told me they were only three days old, and completely fine with being handled — so long as I was fine with possibly getting pooped on. I couldn’t resist that silvery-yellow fuzz and gingerly scooped up the male. I kid you not, the little guy fell asleep in my hand while I scratched his “ears” — I positively melted into a puddle of cute-overload.

Coming soon to a harvest near you!

Somehow I managed to put him down — of course, the only thing that could lure me away from a baby animal petting zoo was the promise of food. I thoroughly enjoyed the potluck feast (yes, I went back for thirds), and afterward did a couple of laps around the barn to ward off Thanksgiving syndrome. Despite the bugginess, I enjoyed a relaxing, restoring afternoon under bluest sky I’ve seen this spring, and went home with my heart as full as my belly.

THIS WEEKEND

Eat Local Week’s not over yet! Grab your ticket before Saturday’s Tide to Table Dinner on Longboat Key sells out! For $99 you get to enjoy a sumptuous five-course meal, complete with wine and beer pairings, featuring the finest, freshest seafood from local waters; the “Catch of the Day” will have come out of the ocean that morning!

SATURDAY 4.14

Now, that get-up's a winner.

Oh, Darwin’s on 4th, you simply can’t stop your awesome wagon, can you? I adore the fact that this fantastic restaurant, with its incredible ambience and built-in brewery, is now offering free live music on Saturdays. The music scene thanks you whole-heartedly for sure! Last weekend produced a fascinating blend of local folk-pop from Fancy Rat and ska from Askultura. This Saturday it’s ‘80s Night (and the feeling’s right), featuring vinyl pro duo Eric and Whitney and live covers from Kontraband. You know it ain’t ’80s Night without the proper attire—the best flashback outfits win cash prizes! 10 p.m., no cover.

Of course, every night of the weekend comes with its fair share of tough decisions. Down on Clark Road, Compound Boardshop is hosting “1 ft. @ 2 seconds – numero dos,“ an art and photography show to celebrate the Gulf Coast’s thrilling surf culture. With music, fresh margaritas, complimentary Mexican food from Mi Pueblo and suds from Mr. Beery’s, you can’t find a more tried-and-true recipe for a good night. Plus, the proceeds from all tips, donations and raffle ticket sales will all go to Mission Mexico, a children’s refuge in Chiapas. The event starts at 7 p.m. and hangs ’til ten. (Heh, get it? Yeah, okay, that was pretty bad.)

- Tell the Scenestress what’s going on in an e-mail, or on Facebook, Tumblr and Twitter.

So they throw little messages to their beloved into the abyss of the Internet. Then, they hope. And they wait. They hope and wait for that momentous e-mail: “Hey … I think I saw you, too. Wanna meet?”

Making my way into an evening of laughter, music and unrequited love stories.

I was so delighted to find — through Facebook, ironically — that a quartet of talented folks from the Asolo Repertory Theatre and the FSU/Asolo Conservatory for Actor Training were producing an intimate cabaret-style show this past Monday, entirely devoted to this quite un-intimate method of reaching out. “Missed Connections: A Craigslist Cabaret” compiled standard tunes, a little dancing and actual posts sourced from the Sarasota-Bradenton annex of Craigslist.

Oh my, you people are funny. I admire your poetics over passing in a Winn-Dixie cereal aisle or the home and garden section of a Bradenton Walmart. I never noticed before, but a disproportionate number of these encounters seem to happen in Starbucks … and now my weekly skinny vanilla latte feels like more than just an indulgence. My eyes flirt around the lobby, wondering who might be checking me out.

I also hadn’t discovered the poignant, tender and even heartbreaking side of Missed Connections. Asolo Rep company member Luke Bartholomew sat on the stage and read one missive from the head of a broken family. The apologies he couldn’t ever say out loud were deeply sobering, and I have to hand it to the cast for their choice of closing number. I’m no U2 fanatic, but I was moved. Surely the vast majority of these missed connections still haven’t found what they’re looking for.

It’s true: Unless you believe in fate, soulmates or the power of love to unite people who are “meant to be,” a Missed Connections section probably doesn’t make a lick of sense, particularly not these days when the average Facebook user doesn’t actually know one fifth of their “friends.” Maybe that’s part of Missed Connections’ appeal for me as well: the sheer chutzpah it takes to do something so hopeless, set against a humanizing backdrop of a lack of courage in the face-to-face moment.

I’ve had a couple of missed connections since coming to Sarasota, although I’ve never announced them on a Craigslist message board. Now, I wonder: What would I say, for instance, to that nice waiter at Bond with the earrings and tattoos? “Dear Unwitting Lunch Date: I love the way you always call me ‘sweetheart’ and ‘darlin’ when you check to see if I want more lemonade. Maybe you only want me to show you my tips. And I do. I give it up every time, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop. Love, Tomato and Fennel Soup.”

– Don’t worry about missing your connection with the Scenestress. Link up with her in an email, or get social on Facebook, Tumblr and Twitter.

FRIDAY

They say the full moon has a strange effect on us humans. Statistics show that more barfights and breakups happen under its glow than other nights of the month … so let’s all try and keep our cool at this weekend’s outset, why don’t we? This Friday night, not one, but two of Sarasota’s beaches will be the setting for full-moon yoga sessions. I can’t imagine a better way to wind down from my week than to lay down towel with some friends, breathe in time with the waves and stretch out some of the grind.

You may join Leslie Talley on Lido Beach at 9 p.m.; or at 8 p.m. on Siesta Key, Alicia Stevens will lead a session in the Vinyasa style, followed by a yummy potluck! So bring a dish, some drink and utensils to pass and share — no doubt you’ll have worked up an appetite! You’ll find Alicia and company at Access Point 7. Whichever yoga season you plan to attend, be sure and bring a mat and/or towel, some water and perhaps a candle to place in the sand. Such ambience! Both gatherings are free to attend, but donations toward each instructor’s time will be accepted.

SATURDAY

The hype for the Sarasota Film Festival never stops! This Saturday’s Midnight at the Nickelodeon at the Cock & Bull Pub features three of my favorite four-letter words: beer, food and free. Also my favorite five-letter word: music. All ages are welcome to come dance to the groovy tunes of local bands, including Come Back Alice – you may know ‘em as the Tony Tyler Band, who regularly rips it up around town with hours of crowd-pleasing covers, but on this show you’ll get to see the ensemble unleashed. While you’re there, be sure to pick up your tickets for the amazing films and parties that will soon be the talk of the town. This free — free – shindig starts at 8:30 p.m.

Photo by Joseph Persinger.

SUNDAY

Yet again, the Blue Owl impresses me with its tenacity, taste for good times and ability to bring national acts to Sarasota. I’ll go ahead and say that Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band is a pretty big dang deal. They’ve played such fests as Warped Tour, Austin City Limits and Bonnaroo, and have toured in Europe extensively. That ain’t bad for a a stripped-down set-up: resonator guitar, washboard and a plastic tub drum kit. Sounds to me like they must bring a lot more than just instruments to the stage. I believe it’s guaranteed to be a board-stompin’, rip-snortin’ good time. Orlando’s Lonesome City Travelers and Sarasota’s Dune Train open this graciously early show, starting at 8 p.m. $10, 21+.

– What are you up to this weekend? Tell the Scenestress in an e-mail, or on Facebook, Tumblr and Twitter.