Barnett graces After Dark on Cedar Springs with her vocal gifts and presence on Saturday and Sunday nights. Her loyal fans are much happier for it. This powerhouse knows when to belt out a song and when to keep her voice soft and whispery. She's at her best when warbling jazzy, upbeat tunes. Somehow you can't help but feel lighter on this planet when you listen to her sing. Check out her happy, breezy version of "Pennies from Heaven" to see what we mean.

Look at the wildly diverse work versatile director Rene Moreno has helmed for local theaters recently: the romantic two-character musical The Last Five Years at Plano Rep, the raucous comedy Buford Gomez: Tales of a Rightwing Border Patrol Officer for Martice Productions in the basement of the Majestic, Michael Frayn's difficult drama Copenhagen at Theatre Three, the abstract Crave for the Festival of Independent Theaters and the warm Southern comedy The Exact Center of the Universe at Fort Worth's Circle Theatre. He also managed to fit in some acting with an intense performance in Harold Pinter's Old Times at the Bath House Cultural Center. This SMU MFA grad also directs for Milwaukee Rep, and he's worked at the Guthrie Lab in Minneapolis and the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. Actors say they trust Moreno's directing because he casts his plays wisely and doesn't mess around with a good script. Directors too often get the blame when a production is panned and don't snag much credit when it's a hit. Moreno is the secret behind much of Dallas' best theater. Up next for Moreno: Love's Fire at SMU's Margo Jones Theatre scheduled for October 23 through November 2.

We'll admit it: We wish we had that damned story, not Wick Allison's Park Cities Greensheet. So, when D ran that cover with Hicks, or a Photoshopped Tommy, flashing empty pockets, we pretended it was so much tabloid hogwash, Allison's way of proving to his moneyed pals he couldn't be bought by this town's richest fellers. Turns out that story was dead on the money, no matter how hard Hicks tries to deny it; after all, if he really wanted to stick with a winner, he would have held onto his Dallas Stars, our most recent champs in any major sporting league. Instead, he's selling off his NHL team (worth about $200 mil) and his stake in the American Airlines Center (estimated value: $400 mil). Why he's dumping the AAC is beyond us; yeah, we hate the place, but it's gotta be the rich man's ATM, unlike the Arlington-owned Ballpark, which will soon enough start to look like it smells. (Ya know, now that we think about it, that place always was a hokey hodgepodge.) Maybe Hicks just couldn't get over his man crush on Mike Modano, who's gone from underrated to overrated in three seasons' time; maybe he just likes the drive to Arlington. Or maybe he's got a thing for guys in tight pants who grab their crotches and spit. Dunno. All we know is this Texas Ex is dumping the one team he owns that's respectable in order to keep the one that's reprehensible. Does that make any damned sense, or cents, to you?

Playing a charming psychopath, a frat boy, a wild-haired anarchist or a suave sophisticate, Regan Adair, 29, manages to bring to every role he plays a relaxed authenticity that makes his performances fascinating to watch. Trained as a fashion designer, Adair turned to acting four years ago and over the past few months has popped up in productions at half a dozen area theaters. He's onstage now at Dallas Theater Center playing Rosencrantz in Hamlet, one of the few local actors director Richard Hamburger personally has recruited for a role (DTC casts mostly out of NYC). It was Adair's riveting performance in Crave at the recent Festival of Independent Theaters that caught Hamburger's (and the critics') attention. One local director describes Adair as "a character actor trapped in an ingenue body." That's a nice way of saying he's immensely talented and really cute.

Judging by how often he's cast in local productions, Bill Jenkins appears to be a director's darling. In the three leading roles he's had at three theaters here this year, he's proven versatile, likable and dependable as a performer, expertly tackling a wide range of accents and acting styles. For Addison's WaterTower Theatre, he roared as the ghost of John Barrymore in the high-spirited I Hate Hamlet. At Theatre Three (where he was voted "Patrons' Favorite") he raised the roof as an ambitious young Baptist minister in God's Man in Texas. For Theatre Britain at the Trinity River Arts Center, he oozed cockney charm as The Mysterious Mr. Love. He's also performed major comedic and dramatic roles at Kitchen Dog, Stage West, Casa Mañana and Circle Theatre. Watching Jenkins onstage is a lesson in acting technique. His diction is crisp, his physicality well-tuned. His handsome face, with its deeply dimpled smile, can shift from utterly beguiling one moment to dangerously brooding the next. There's something old-fashioned about Jenkins' approach to stage work. He doesn't just say the words and strike the poses; he inhabits the characters and disappears into the roles. When his name is in the program, you know you're in for something good. Applause, applause.

Blessed with a singing voice so powerful it shows up on Doppler radar, Denise Lee, 43, proved this year that she's also one of the area's best serious dramatic actresses. In WaterTower Theatre's production of The Old Settler, John Henry Redwood's lovely play about spinster sisters in 1940s Harlem, Lee didn't sing a note. Instead, she wore dowdy dresses and no makeup and gave a quietly moving performance highlighted by some white-hot chemistry with handsome co-star Kes Kehmnu. Lee also was a knockout in Uptown Players' musical The Last Session. Known for her showstopping way with musical comedy (she's a repeat star of WaterTower's annual Rockin' Christmas Party), Lee does her cabaret thing most Friday nights at Bill's Hideaway (4144 Buena Vista). And if there's a production of Once on This Island in the works, she's probably in the cast. "I love that show," says Lee, "but it would be nice to be called in more often for roles that aren't designated 'minority.'" Look for Lee this fall on television in the role of captured American soldier Shoshanna Johnson in the NBC teleflick Saving Jessica Lynch.

This haven of artistic talent just across the Trinity in Southern Dallas is named after the artist who we'd seen paint a mural in a Lutheran church many, many years ago. It was astounding. His wife opened a gallery in March 1997. All the pieces are eye-catching, and there's a lot to eyeball--anywhere from 30-50 artists' work is on exhibition. There are sculptures in wood and carvings and figurines. The owners host several small art shows each year and one major exhibition in the fall.

Quite a fuss was made when the Angelika Film Center & Café opened at Mockingbird Station, but here's the dirty truth: Parking is impossible, and once you actually get inside the theater (if you do; shows sell out quicker than most business majors), you're surrounded by every North Dallas soccer mom who still thinks going to see independent (or--gasp!--foreign) films is edgy. Quietly, the Magnolia was up and running a few months later, and since then, it's beaten the Angelika at its own game--finding the sweet spot between the art house and the cineplex--even if the scoreboard doesn't always reflect it. You can grab an adult beverage at Fuel (the cozy and classy bar upstairs) and a Hebrew National hot dog from the concession stand, then sit back and relax with some of the finest films coming through town. And you can do it all in an atmosphere that feels more like you're in your living room with friends instead of the odd man out at a Jewish singles function. Bonus: The Magnolia houses one of the only digital projectors in Texas.

Jaye Weiner, the mother and proprietor of this school, has recently moved into a new building to accommodate her success. She and a staff of 10 enthusiastic teachers help children ages 4 and up produce fantastic, creative objects d'art, often from recycled material. Sign up early because these classes fill up quickly.

If you said Dallas wouldn't buy it, and Randall Garrett couldn't do it, you were wrong. As Garrett opens the fourth season of Plush, even the naysayers are starting to show up at South Akard on Friday nights for the gallery's "high levels of cultural noise." Live music, eccentric paintings and sculpture, performance art and a bohemian club atmosphere enliven Plush. Exhibition opening events now attract an interesting cross section of people, and Garrett is likely to host rap poets, ballerinas or skateboard performers with live music to kick off new art shows by new artists. "I have consciously tried to create a space that puts the Modernist white-cube gallery of the 20th century in the past," Garrett says. "I want a space that is infiltrated by art that pollutes culture and is polluted back every time." Plush is all that. It's unerringly cool and as close as our generation and our city will ever get to the heyday of Andy Warhol's Factory and the insanity of Studio 54.