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Nought but a junkyard orchestra to begin with. Nobody ever knew, how could they forget?
But forget they did.
If the Black Carrot Secret Orchestra had a skill between them it was that
of being forgotten, yet the ghosts of their music continue to surface. Etched
wax-cylinder-like into the surface of that most singular of root vegetables,
the Black Carrot.
Since the turn of the last century they have appeared in unexpected places
to unexpected persons, though a thick fog rests upon the history of this singularly
unspectacular phenomenon. Sundry details do actually exist but are simply too dreary
to recount here.
At an unspecified date somewhere around 1988 it fell upon the hapless heart
and ears of the author, Mr J. E. Stewart, then but a slender child, to receive
numerous dubious and monotonously uncalled-for Orchestral donations. He has
been receiving them ever since, yet has only recently given in entirely. He
now curates the Black Carrot Secret Orchestra's catalogue and can be found supping
at twilight, most days of the year, on a very dour and dusky stew. He has even
been known to appear as a vocalist in their recent offerings, though he claims
that he can only have contributed in his sleep.
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