Sometimes when going to a show at Radio Radio I park a few blocks away just to have the opportunity to walk around Fountain Square, digging the streetscapes. Someone wrote a prose poem about veggie pizza in colored chalk on the sidewalk, there's a spraypainted stencil on the crosswalk sign. A creepy shiver makes me wish I'd worn a long sleeved shirt, but the chill I'd copped wasn't weather related. There are giant spiders crawling up the Fountain Theatre building, vast, black and hirsute---one of them is glowing a purply magenta from within. And then there were the bats, at least I think they were bats but they might have been ragged soot-covered pigeons. But there were definitely spiders, half as big as Volkswagens, and I began to quicken my pace toward the entrance to Radio Radio, arriving in time to catch the last two songs from Virgil. While Action Strasse prepared for their set, I went out to the back of the club to search for more spider giants. The smokers out back looked at me as if I were mad when I asked if they'd seen them. By that time Action Strasse were rocking. A girl dancing dementedly made sure I took a picture of the drummer. Lazarus quoted Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin as sort of epigraphs for their impressive onstage power. Russell's grip on the mic was sure in at least three roles: lead singer, rapper and stand-up comic. "Tufty, we need more monitor for the bass," he slyly requested of the club's owner and soundman. "You can keep your accent, man…but you're one of us now."