Arto Lindsay steps onto the stage. In his late 40s, he still retains the gawkiness of an adolescent boy, all long arms and legs. The image of a geek is completed by large horn-rimmed glasses and a pale complexion.
But as Lindsay and his band begin to play, his eyes flutter, flirting with the audience and his mouth pulls back into a mischievous grin. His hips gently sway like a suburban white who hears Al Green for the first time.
Like the librarian that sheds her glasses and shapeless dress to reveal a sex kitten, Lindsay's music proves that a simple pop song can transform the most unlikely of characters into a true Romeo.