It was two weeks after the party in Bart's basement, and Joe was standing next to a young man in a kippah in Toronto's Bovine Sex Club, listening to Kraftpark, a Kraftwerk cover band.
"This piece is by The Organization. It doesn't have lyrics, so we gave it some, because it's no fun just being a cover band all the time. Can we hear it for creativity?"
The crowd roared.
"All right. Bear with us, this song doesn't have much room for lyrics, so it might sound pretty strange. But it sounds pretty strange anyway. All you big fans, you know what we're talking about! Get ready for Milk Rock!"
Into various points in the melodious cacophony that ensued they moaned and shouted:
Fantastisch,
Elektrische,
Melancholisch,
Irrsinnig,
Romantisch,
Statistische,
Poetisch,
weiß, schmelzende Musik...
Everyone around roared approval except the guy in the kippah, who shouted "Learn German, already!" and a Japanese man next to him who shouted nothing, but frowned, only to smile when the lead singer stepped forward and started chanting a capella "Boku wa ongak' ka, Dentaku katate ni..."
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