Funneling yourself down into the Cha Cha's basement womb during Block Party can be an exhausting feat before you even catch any music. When I finally managed to shimmy down there, I could hear Crypts, but could not see Crypts. I stood on tip-toes, craning to find any evidence that we weren't all just listening to a malfunctioning laptop. I looked around and could really only focus on a man in the crowd standing on a table, tugging at the facial hair of a mounted deer head on the wall. Eventually, a microphone stand bobbed up and down for a few seconds up front before disappearing, indicating that the nihilistic paranoid Y2K noise was indeed coming from a band. Armed with a pot brownie and the will to elbow through an I-get-it-you-started-drinking-at-noon crowd, I might have actually enjoyed freaking out in observing the Block Party scene while Crypts' soundtrack loomed in the background. But a final glance at deer man reminded me that it was still light outside and I was too sober to be watching only him.