Planet Earth, what a right old shithole. Hundreds of year of abuse by its inhabitants have left her an infertile husk, a rotten mother whos scarce, poisoned milk is fought over by five hundred billion pups, the last lollipop in the shop. A dire famine has swept through most of the planet like a spectre in a bedlinen shop, Ma Earth’s pestilent seas produce no fish and her carcinogenic rains slowy erode any hope of producing enough crops to feed even a pet rabbit for one week. All that’s left is a toxoid landscape of undeniable scantiness. This ain’t no Al Gore movie, mankind has actually and finally pissed it all against the wall.
This was all, of course, until the dawn of the Replicator. This remarkable contraption, created by in 2083 by George O’ Mally Jr II used complex nanotechnology to accurately duplicate molecular patterns, meaning that basically any material or object could be copied or duplicated. You don’t have to be as clever as George O’ Mally Jr II to work out that this earthshattering scientific breakthrough caused an earthsaving insufficiency breakdown, spelling the end of world famine, and making the world a better place for you and me (except that we were long dead). A huge celebration ensued….
A Century of Trees offers us bedroom pop par-excellance without resorting to yr regular standard-issue salmon coloured hynolagogicial reference points. No sir! A Century of Trees takes the major triads and autotunes that you might find in a modern pop-stack and arranges them like a psychedelic puzzle-game whose finished article is a bit like viewing Jason Derulo through the fractured vision of the 16 eyed beast. Sounding like Jimmy Edgar if he was raised by Gay Against You on a remote British island, ‘Coquettish’ strikes us down with its man-sized synth stabs in its hunt for the off-key boogie trophy that we sadly hand out so rarely. ‘Coquettish’ is taken from the ‘Glider for Jets Sakes’ album which is available for free of charge from the Century of Trees blog and from British Wildlife records, well worth checking out we thunks.
Unfortunately, the replicator was not without its problems. Whilst these machines saved our precious race from starvation by wildy upscaling what scant food could be grown on the planet, they could of course be used to duplicate, anything. All of a sudden, everyone on Earth had a vinyl copy of the new Kanye West (kept alive through a kind of forced re-incarnation program) album which was great for Kanye, but when his label, EMI3’s sales figure sdidn’t reflect this remarkable and unprecedented unit shift, they began to smell a rat.
Obviously some bright spark had managed to get their hands on a Replicator (kept by the Government under secure conditions) and was brazenly copying and distributing vinyl records to every home on earth (using O’Mally’s other invention, the Transporter). Before this, the only way you could copy and distribute music was if you owned a pressing plant and a Ford transit van, which again were very strictly controlled by the Government. There was no other way. Unluckily for Earth, EMi3 ran for world Government and got elected. The first thing they did was have all the Replicators destroyed. Job done. No more bootlegging.
Mankind starved to death within 6 months. Somewhere in the accounts department of a deserted record company, a printout lies unread next to a malnourished corpse. If the corpse was alive enough to read the memo then they would know that the poor revenues of Kayne West’s 65th album despite its epic sales were actually due to a computer dropping several noughts, and not some crazed bootlegger. Mankind may have died in vain, but at least we know 100% for sure that no-one is ripping off Duffy albums (Duffy is kept alive in 2083 in the form of a sort of animated oil painting).
The Prayer Furnace offer us supine scorchers that neatly sidestep fads at 60bpm. Slow Matter, a ponderous jam, flies a cosmic grind through a selection of scenes from degraded film stock of forgotten movies, where fuzzy monochrome arch nemesia are projected in the theatre of spectres. Here they rub their barely visible hands together with glee over half-existent fiendish plots and maniacally cackle about evil schemes that may never have happened. This ain’t no hautonogical commentatary about what it means to be alive in 2010, just quality musics for you to enjoy at a leisurely pace.
Seemingly this and other tracks are available for download from their soundcloud page linked at the start of this paragraph. And pre-empting the windy city supporters we so enjoy the presence of in the comments box, we will say merely, CHICAGO!!