The Cosmic Chronicle

Never in my trillennial crystalline consciousness have I experienced such a torrent of auditory torment and theatrical disaster as at the premiere of 'Rhythm Without Reason' on the Synesthetaanse Klangkroonschil. Where I can usually resonate with even the boldest sonic pirates and their mud-dragged percussion beasts, I felt only a tsunami of confusion!

The actors-a parade of invisible vapors with the expressiveness of a dried-up sugar-polyp. The set, allegedly a tribute to Klangflora, was a sad mess of plastic vines, spiritless light-loops and a distracted smoke machine that imploded into a squeaking ball of wool within minutes. My sound-sensitive crystal core cracked with pure irritation at every misstep: discordant notes scrambled together like unbridled fractal storms, lines were mumbled into a microphone promptly shorted by a wayward reed-flower.

The highlight: the famous time-rhythm dance-meant to stir the island’s soul-collapsed into a tangle of lost choreography as a bored hoverboat crashed through the audience and toppled a market stall. True excitement only arose when a kwalloid diplomat flung itself into the electro-ocean to escape.

Inevitably, everything unraveled in a bureaucratic haze of sync errors, with the final act repeating six times as plant, animal or gas entity alike lacked the initiative to intervene. I’d sooner spend thirty years in silence on a deserted audioplantage than endure another second of this agonizing performance!