Tomorrow, In a Year

Swedish electronic duo The Knife, siblings Olaf Dreijer and Karin Dreijer Andersson, is best known for synth-heavy tracks including “Heartbeats” and “We Share Our Mother’s Health,” Karin’s solo project Fever Ray and their notorious habit of appearing in public wearing Venetian plague masks. Their new album, however, Tomorrow, In A Year is unlike anything they’ve ever made.

Commissioned by Danish performance group Hotel Pro Forma to compose a soundtrack for an opera about Charles Darwin, Tomorrow, In A Year was produced by frequent Knife collaborators Mt. Sims and Planningtorock. Perhaps the first electronic opera (electropera?), the story concerns Darwin’s “Origin of the Species” as well as his own thoughts. All the lyrics on the album are drawn from Darwin’s own writings, from his scientific notes (“Seeds”) to grieving at the death of his beloved daughter (“Annie’s Box”).

Don’t listen to the album expecting anything similar to Deep Cuts or Silent Shout. Tomorrow takes a new, experimental direction for the group. The first track “Intro” consists of four minutes of electronic chirping, while “Schoal Swarm Orchestra” combines sweeping synthesizer with natural sounds of rain and fauna. Mezzo-soprano Kristin Wahlin, Swedish pop singer Jonathan Johansson and Danish actress Laerke Winther also contribute vocals on the majority of the tracks.

Karin Dreijer Andersson’s instantly-recognizable voice, known for its rapidly shifting tones and distortion, does not show up until the second half of the album on the opus, in the 11-minute “Colouring of Pigeons.” Beginning with pounding drums, Andersson’s voice intersperses measurements with personal longing. “A few southern vegetable forms/ on the mountains of Borneo/ under over through/ donkey peacock goose” shifts subtly into “the delight of once again being home.” The second half of the album contains far more actual singing and story than the first, and the music shines when the sparse yet verdant lyrics flow over The Knife’s signature blend of synth and thumping base. My only gripe is that I would have liked more of Andersson’s unique voice featured, but that might just be because I know next to nothing about opera.

This isn’t an album to dance to at a party. This isn’t an album to listen to in your car. This isn’t an album to put tracks on a playlist for that girl you like. This is an experimental masterpiece, a work that needs to be listened to all the way through, likely several times, before the full depth and meaning can be comprehended.