The psychedelic noiseniks in Caroliner describe themselves as "industrial bluegrass," and their identity-blurring self-mythologizing garners frequent Residents comparisons. But they have a much more abrasive streak than those San Fran pranksters — banjo strums and plink-plonk mallet percussion grapple with Japanoise-style spazz and power-electronics hiss. Still, it's their sense of theatricality that precedes them: their enormous, handmade sets and costumes look like GWAR dipped in a Sid and Marty Croft acid bath. So, despite the misanthropic scrape-and-snarl, Caroliner are a great time. What else would you expect from a band that delivers LPs in pizza boxes and diaper-disposal bags?