The Joe Fox Boyd-fronted No Sheers Ted is a positively brilliant outfit that doesn't want you to know it. You see, when a true hustler puts the moves on a high-stakes poker game, he doesn't showboat in a neon gabardine zoot suit. He flies below the radar in corduroy trousers and a shirt that's never seen an iron. And when musicians like Boyd or Joe Henry or The Latin Playboys exhibit their sheer genius beneath a cloak of simplicity, my mind is blown. It doesn't happen all that often these days. (I guess I'm a bit jaded.) But it did happen Friday night at the Record Archive, as I was fortunate to display my view of sound on the Archive's gallery wall. The band - including master of the house, Dick Storms on the tin sandwich - played music that was chaotic and peaceful. It's an even blend of what you want to hear, need to hear, and never thought you'd ever hear. So there.

But unlike the No Sheers' no frills, Danny "Knuckles" Sullivan dresses - and plays - like a Batman villain. His natty threads rival his keyboard attack in sheer flamboyance and hairpin segues. I caught his set for the smart set at Pittsford restaurant Pare. Sullivan swung rapidly and maniacally from jazz to pop to epic rumblings, like Tarzan when he's late for work. It was a lively scene with anticipation and enthusiasm and expectation, and was just loud enough to play along with Sullivan as he hung 10 on the keys. I copped a squat at the bar with saxman Tommy Gravino to survey the scene. There were classic remnants floating about like an old movie: gin and tonics, singles on the make, doubles on a date, and a piano player in the corner beating on the 88s. Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, I walked into this one. Good choice.