Firstly recorded in the year 2000, the incredible futuristic era youngsters of the seventies would dream about during their childhood, this album was then reborn in 2015. In 2000, Thomas Duriez, a friend of Franck's, helped extract these songs from a digital 8 track recorder to an antique windows computer. The mastering was quite light to say the least. The recent "Golden Phoenix Studio" recording features Franck Claise on bass here and there, and possibly the sound of children screaming in the distance!

Originally, Ribcage of a Pinepapple Lambscape was a first shot at a simplified approach to folk soundscapes and compost heap automatic song writing compared to surrealistic painting. These songs are the sounds of festering cities. The first spark came from an urban wall painting. Someone had used their own shit to write the word "laid" (ugly), that could be understood as "lait" (milk). It sums up the beauty of city life where the obvious ugliness of our dwellings needs spelling out, and the acute need to suckle from the milken market industrial breasts is both depressing and exciting, depending how willing you are to accept chaos.

The house of decay has a window onto the past and present. Through the kaleidoscope a patchwork of lost feelings reappear and blend into one another for the sake of a few more nonsense rhymes. At the time of the simplistic and elaborate recordings, the black mountains of England and Wales were in quarantine. Foot and mouth hysteria, like a prolepsis, announced in cattle burning smoke signs the evening skies to come. The mounds of sheep aflame were a fine starting point to chisel back to the lands of my youth to the south of Wales.

On the banks of the River Severn, I am a crab with two black eyes. A woman singer and her two kids were washed away one night after a performance at 'the Sunrise', where '¨Midsummer Level' (my father's band) had played the same night. I now sing her songs across the waves to crowds of friends for beer. I think I hear her songs quite clearly, now the towns where I once lived have slipped away. The owls and fears she met that night are mine to sieve over the sleeping thieves those evenings when they come to snatch a light you hand out to the strangers briefly, hoping all this time goes right. Ladybird, ladybird fly away home, you children are crying and the voice on the phone says your house is on fire, but the black round your eyes is for tuneless bonfires that have no disguise. No one was hurt, but then everyone says, no babies would be born, "no life without pain".

Darren Aronovsky's "requiem for a dream" was the soundtrack to the year 2000.

FR: Album FOLK surréaliste autoproduit acoustique (l’ère urbaine revisitée sous le parfum du bétail brûlant au crépuscule).