The Knife/Planningtorock/Mt. Sims
Tomorrow, in a Year

As the Knife release an experimental, avant-garde album which takes a while to truly 'get' we here at The Milk Carton thought it was appropriate to treat the review of the same album with our own brand of avant-garde.

The disco kids all arrived at the same time in their droves, wearing their colourful neon glow clothes and making a lot of noise for such a small group. Many of them had glo-sticks which they were eager to snap and they all wore comfortable footwear as they were up for a dance. They queued in fervid excitement outside the venue and cheered when the doors opened and they were allowed into the lobby of the grand old theatre. Their clamour and noise was quashed somewhat when they were shown to their seats and handed programmes and were shushed by tuxedo clad elder gentlemen whenever they made a sound.

Diego, one of the group's leaders, leaned forward in his seat and whispered as loudly as he could to his sister Jenny who was sitting a few seats down from him.

"Psssst, Jen, what the Hell is this all about? Is this what they're calling a rave these days? I paid good money for...."

"Shhhhhhhhh," shushed somebody in front of them. Diego whipped around angrily to confront the irritating shusher but right at that moment the house lights dipped and the stage at the front of the auditorium was illuminated. The disco kids fell silent and a few of them tossed little blue and red pills into their mouths. Franklin, one of the more excitable amongst them snapped his glo-stick and whooped which only drew more shushes from the darkness ahead.

Then nothing happened except for the sound of a leaking tap forming an increasing puddle of water somewhere inside the building. Nothing continued to happen for some time and Diego could feel his blood boil. He leant forward again and whispered as loud as he could at Jenny but she was grinding her teeth and looked as though she was about to gnash the fabric of the seat in front of her and every ounce of energy she had was being channelled into not doing anything and it looked as though the strain might be killing her. Diego whispered a bit louder but she couldn't hear him, partly due to the fact that an opera singer had taken to the stage and was now warbling away in a language he couldn't understand. He looked at the programme he had been handed on the way in. It read, Tomorrow, in a Year, and suddenly he realised that they had made an enormous error.

Panicked that several of his friends were not going to be able to contain the effects of the pills for very much longer he stood up and shuffled down the row to Jenny's seat where he found his sister catatonic and red in the face.

"Jenny, Jenny, we've made an awful mistake, this is a flaming opera, not a rave. Where did you read about this?"

"The Knife, Diego, The Knife, they are dancers, they'll be dancing soon, just hold on, they'll be dancing soon, and so will we, so will we."

"Dammit Jenny, why'd you have to go and swallow all those pills straight away? You're doomed, doomed. Just try and drink lots of water, I think you're about to have a really bad trip. I think we should just leave, cut our losses and run."

"No, they'll be dancing soon, and so shall we."

Diego threw his hands in the air and returned to his seat. He waited through a variety of movements. He had seen opera on the television before, but nothing so avant-garde as this. There was very little melody and a lot of space, silence only kept at bay by noises that sounded like a mixture of wind and water scratching each other's backs. After almost an hour he became so sick of nothing really happening beyond the catatonic rocking of the disco kids who had popped their pills and peaked too early that he stood up and shouted to Jenny.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" insisted the shushers.

"Oh shush yourselves for God's sake," he shouted back at them before a drum beat, slow yet oddly tribal, interrupted him before he could start his rant and the woman who he could only presume was the star singer began to punctuate the rhythm with a staccato falsetto that made him sit down in his chair. Finally something was happening. The disco kids sensed that the rave was about to start and those of them who hadn't dropped their pills already did so, even Diego who felt an enormous sense of relief that all of the waiting was finally over. He stood up in his seat again, this time not in anger but in jubilation and he began dancing and whooping and the rest of the disco kids joined him which infuriated the oldies in front of them so much that they started to leave, shaking their heads and shooting evil stares at the youngsters who didn't care. This was their time now.

As the last tuxedo left the auditorium a regular 4/4 beat began and the disco kids were delighted that their night was finally getting started. They waved glo-sticks and danced with their arms making all manner of shapes and gestures, and they hugged each other and shouted. And then, as suddenly as the beats had started they dropped off again and the disco kids were left once again in a kind of uncertain limbo, feeling like radicals in a library. Was that it? Was it over or was this an interlude, the calm before the storm?

After fifteen minutes of waiting it was collectively agreed upon that that was indeed it and a decision was made to leave the auditorium. They stepped out into the cold, dark night in silence, many of them now coming down from their momentary high and feeling mightily depressed and cheated. They walked together, heads bowed and hands in pockets. Suddenly a group of elderly and bookish looking people dressed in tweed came around the corner. They were making a lot of noise and they stopped when they saw the dejected youngsters staring at them in surprise and bewilderment. A man in brown tweed stepped forward and asked, "We're not too late are we?"

"For what?" asked Diego.

"The Darwin exhibition piece."

Diego sighed and shook his head. "No, it's just getting going."

"Great," said the tweed and the older group pushed past the disco kids, and Diego was sure he saw a couple of them light up marijuana cigarettes. It had been a confusing night and he was looking forward to his bed.


C+