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Do you view the core values of Caroliner as having remained constant throughout its existence?
Allogro Stickatto:
Speaking of values with such a crowd of imbeciles and ne'er-do-wells is like churning butter. We each own about the value of a foot of plank, or a nail or two. One of us is constantly smoking a pipe of thoughtful or simple design, sometimes without the bother of the smoke. Once you carve something down to the core, it's not worth anything anymore. We throw those things away. Whenever we finish doing something, we do it again and call it something different.
The Buttonup Skeleton:
None of us can answer this question because none of us has any idea whether we have a value or any place to put it. You are assuming that I have a hollow core in which to store things over time as well as the frivolity and wherewithal to register their supposed changes. Every one of us keeps the gaze focused soundly and seriously on the periphery. We are too soundly focused on the unravelling of this twenty plus a dozen year beast to keep an eye on any core values, which are something for the bank or a calculator. I personally am more of an under-the-mattress type and a bad book-keeper. You fill up your core with values and you won't have any room to see out of.
Cottypeariley:
You must know, as a well read journalist, which is how you are presenting yourself, that Caroliner set out to preserve Caroliner the Singing Bull of the 1800s lyrics with music. Nothing has changed in the last 27+ years.
How important is location to Caroliner? Is the Bay Area crucial to the creation of your music?
The Buttonup Skeleton:
Certainly location is important in our music. I can think at least of a half dozen of songs we have that feature locations. If you focus on a song like "Gut" or "Outhouse of the Pryeeeeeee." There is a song about the mental confusion of a location. A man starts to get confused in the winter and is overwhelmed by the architecture. It is a common scenario. You end up with some pain like in the songs mentioned or the legs nailed to furniture to try to make friends with them. The inside home is the worst location I know and every one I know is the same: a claim of ownership on your guts and a confusion with the house-skin-stomach successive ordering. I have myself attempted to reorder myself as skin-house-stomach and house-stomach-skin on separate occasions. Stick with the tried and true is all I have to report back.
Thalamusk:
As wonderful as the living situation isn't here, in this, an expensive part of the world, there are many a fine folk who stab at buckets made from wired glass and poketops. They often support us with equipment and food for our live fire brigade of 1800s ear passalong commemorative live shows n' such. These dear little sound mites of minor, yet commentable, stature often are rewarded with a half handed kindness by letting them cavort for the first few minutes before the curtain goes up for the Caroliner show. Some are really interesting, playing and utilizing the passaround or the applause for percussion. Names are hither and yon, so maybe come to a show and see what we have associated with!
Those with more availability walk about the cities with signage displaying our show days and locations, earning a great spot in the world before our actual stage diety veteran service to the Earth begins with a selected awed audience of several dozen divided in twain. It's a swell way of saying "hello friend" without having to talk to the work.
Allogro Stickatto:
The influence of climate on our metabolism, its retardation, its acceleration, goes so far that a mistaken choice of place and climate can not only estrange a man from his task but can actually keep it from him. Everything is somewhere, and we're always in the same room when we get together. If we're not, than that's the end of that. The people here are robust of body, with strong and passionate hearts and great virtues. The land itself is one of the wildest in the world. The usual disorder connected with the administration is everywhere in evidence, draft beasts are lacking, human labor is scarce, energy and enterprise are a crying need. There are a couple things I've been trying to locate for a while, and how like all creation they smell!
Caroliner is frequently associated with a particular era, the 1800s. Is there an extent to which you view the group and its music as existing outside of time? If not, how would you define Caroliner's relationship to time and history?
The Buttonup Skeleton:
You have to appreciate that in our role perched within the hollow eye of historical neutrality and accuracy we might fairly well exit history as you say. I'm not sure that this one is not just a repeat of your hollow core question. You or your readers may already be familiar with the fact that for some time we have recorded our music occasionally onto wire. Any kind of recording of sound is a historical record. You may just be sitting there in the bathroom playing with your passement; but with a recorder there in the room with you it attains historical significance. With this wire method, we, uh, there are more scratches in the recording medium... You try playing back from a wire spool and you will find your own recording or history of your memory parallel with a history made in scratches of the long horror that never happened. There is a terrible history looking back at you of the birds of prey and the worms that fought against them. Put me there, is what I say. Let me into the dirt history and I'll look from there into this one and see how much better I like both of them.
Cottypeariley:
Being unrelated to time competitions that every godson's brothers pet rooster and its eggs have wander wobbled up onto a stage with the maximum of embarrasment-moderne in mind, we prefer the category of Historical on our own Time.
You could take a ball of yarn and start at the point where Caroliner causes one educated guess to become an educated answer, and then roll it a little further still. Right across the mountain of newer, newest (or now) into the lap of present day, one would drop it straight into the floor, then under the floorboard into the deep myriad tunneled gravestone of history then you would be close to ...you guessed it...the Caroliner answer.
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