The Dresden Dolls played the Orpheum here last Friday, accompanied by the guerilla performance-art troupe --- mimes, living statues, tableaux, and in this case an improvised photo booth --- which follows them around from city to city. Outside the theater, a silver-painted lady in Victorian summer dress was standing next to a sad-looking broken robot bedecked with paint-splattered circuit boards, as various angels and demons cavorted across the alleyway playing hopscotch; if you stood still for a minute, a mid-20th century cigarette girl would hand pictures of the band.

In the middle of all this stood a guy in sandwichboard signs proclaiming that there was no salvation but in Jesus, and that everyone there must repent or be damned. You see this guy outside of a lot of Boston concerts, and sometimes in Harvard Square on weekends. He generally looks out of place, an oddity, a lone kook. But in this scene, for once, he fit right in.