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Disfiguring the goddess discography tpb torrent

Al-muhaddithat the women scholars in islam pdf torrent 20.08.2020

disfiguring the goddess discography tpb torrent

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After this, a pretty young woman walks up to me and says, "Are you into infantilism? I like to pretend lama little girl. No one says anything and his mother limps away. The sound guys fuck up during the set, purposefully making the sub monitors feedback searingly. At the end of the night, after we are ripped off by the falling-down-drunk promoter and further insulted by the tubercular-blood, satan-zit, dick-boil sound guys, the good son tries to fight Caralee and me over some towels that we were charged for!

Carla Bozulich cools things out. Fuck my hometown. I have defended you forever, and now everyone in New York is vindicated. You do suck. Then, we all got home safely. Lou Reed was nick-named 'fancy pants' the whole time. Caralee started a band called Les Filles with Miya Osaki. Spencer from Sunset Rubdown was on Percaset the whole trip. Owen from Casiotone For The Painfully Alone was on steroids, and beat his donkey with a belt the whole trip.

Kim V from Shearwater, like Peaches, drank bottles of straight ketchup the whole time. From Rollins, El Payaso, "The streets lie, the moon lies, my hoodie lies, this sunflower seed lies. Prinzhorn Dance School played live at the club and were so seductive with this sort of dry and empty sound. Thankfully maintained here - indeed made great on record. C'mon the 'horn, aye. Databrain: Electrofrogs JD Twitch Edit Mule Musiq from Walkabout inch sampler The snare breakdown is like machine gun fire on this Pin-Up 'minimal' track and has never failed to cause carnage on the dancefloor.

Now, 1 2 years on, Twitch makes a great edit which lets loose with those snares not once but twice! You know the debate about the album. Whatever it is, I never imagined this to be a dancefloor record but it rocks Optimo. Music is music is club music. Stud Cole: Always And Always Pacific Atlantic Tribune Bought this recently secondhand on a visit to Brooklyn without a listen or any prior knowledge of it- indeed purely because the sleeve had a note attached saying it was, "The only record in the store which all the staff agreed on being utter genius".

Undassifiable rock 'n' roll music - this song deals with heartache in such a strange and intense way. It's slow and heavy, like real heartache. Is it rockabilly, garage rock, psych, blues-rock? I dunno, maybe all of the above, but this is something unique. Marshall Jefferson from 1 - sleaze with cheese slowly undresses the dancefloor. This is Hercules and you must jack your body. The original, a pop song in loose terms or at least this lovely weird Frenchman's interpretation of one, is wonderfully catchy but melancholic.

There's a nice video by artist Camille Henrot of the original song, eaze wit leese slowl idresses the ncefloor which uses collected film footage from weddings. A truly astonishing improvised guitar solo. According to legend, George Clinton out of his mind on LSD told Eddie Hazel to play the first half of the song like his mother had just died and to play the second half as if he had found out she was alive.

May or may not be true but this dark bluesy psych-out has the true freedom of funk pouring out. The King of HonkyTonk. Taking our inspiration from the paintings of Henry Darger, the writings of Dorothy Parker and Pablo Neruda, girl groups, paperback romances, tear-jerking pop and the burning ambition to write an album full of the greatest, most thoughtful pop hits that this country has ever seen, we formed a band and the fun began.

We say: swoon. The greatest all-female Midlands teenage pop group this side of The Nightingales themselves. Not seeking out reward or success, but merely a naive expression of the ongoing trials, feelings; moments of salvation experienced by one human being.

We say: beautiful, slow motion, somnambulist music with cascades of piano and hushed vocals from Legend! And why not? It's a great album. We say: sharp, terse, aggressive female trio from the wastes of south England; one leg shaking like it's got a case of severe Sleater-Kinney jitters, the other tense and straight like it's watching a Glenn Branca no wave symphony.

Or, six legs, rather. There's tremor-tight vocal harmony, too. Math rock can be fun! It's nostalgic suburban house- party electro populated by lyrics about everyday substance abuse, dancing underthe influence, 'pro nails' "decorations on the toes" and unwanted booty calls, www. The spirit of school bus sing-a-longs, back country camping trips and first prize science fair projects. Sounds like: two dads hanging out. We say: as gorgeously plush as a just-groomed pet, as easily melodic as windchimes and as instantly sentimental as a Polaroid.

They are proud of none of their achievements to date other than their pioneering work with mutant babies. We say: every other spiky female-led new wave band on MySpace wants to sound like Siouxsie or Elastica. It's so refreshing to hear one that sounds like Toxic Shock; all brittle silences and hidden menace.

We say: grammatically- and spatially-challenged Plan B hive mind-baiting chirpy Cockney geezers with a nice line in Dolly Parton samples and Streets steals; as infuriating as pumpkins, www. I also make lefty lo-fi music, flash games, animations and do other annoying spoof websites.

We say: genius anti-designer, confrontational, post-Smiths robotic music that sails alarmingly close to the wind - and all the better for it. We say: seems likeeverytimewetalkto anyone in the States at the moment, any time there's a lull in the conversation it's filled with sudden effusive praise for this admittedly wonderful out-there-right-now outfit. Dandyish falsettos ornament delicate but equally complex song structures, and sometimes it's difficult to tel I if that sound buzzing round the bass end is genuine brass or a patchwork of backward voices.

Whatever, if you're anything like us, it'll make yr mind flutter and yr heart buzz. To Architecture They say: The music of two young suburbanites who don't leave their houses much. It's texturised machine drone that flickers between beauty and menace, as only people who run a musicians co-op called Ghosthunters Club could, perhaps, www. I'm sometimes a bit lonely. We say: uber-charming, uber-twee, uber-painful songs from Mr Undereducated himself- like an even more bereft Television Personalities for the Noughties, with some Jad Fair scary monster fixation thrown in.

Admits to a Lesbo Pig and Daniel Johnston influence, and we'd be foolish to deny it - but Winston definitely has a loneliness and humour, all his own. We say: in a world where everything is a touch derivative just 'cause creation is largely the act of cross-breeding unlikely elements and hoping for magic, band references are usually pretty approximate.

Not in this case. Half of Zeigeist's songs sound exactly like The Knife, and half exactly like Fischerspooner. It's almost unreal, how close they map the contours. Grafting a famous face to the inhuman pulse of your discomusik has long been a profitable tactic for dance acts wanting to lure in new listeners; a well-synched puppet show that has produced few classics among a panoramic host of polite two-way suck-jobs.

Thing is, the host tends to swallow the guest whole - husking them of nutrients and shitting out the remainder. The muse is locked out of the nuts and bolts of creation 'cause they don't tend to share a familiarity with the necessary technology. And this disconnection of hemispheres means the voice is treated either as another instrument the words nothing but verbalised instructions or is expected to humanise the landscape it finds itself abandoned in. So, does Mark E Smith get down with the machines so that he can be an equal partner with the studio bards?

Does he fuck. But if you think he cares about reading instructions, sticking to what he knows or leaving the complicated stuff up to experts, you're probably one of the liquidated allsorts who fell from The Fall at a seasonal cull.

MarkESmith'sjobistopush buttons, bait traps, break stuff from the inside and leave others to puzzle over his unanswerable questions. In encouraging this asp to suckle, Mouse On Mars have to be saluted for their bravery - instead of a disembodied star turn, all concerned have compromised and infected each other.

Von Sudenfed's Tromatic Reflexxions is a machine abuse dance record made by outsiders. On paper, it must be technically worse than some imagined product where specialists buzz happily away at their particular ecological tasks. In fact, it's immeasurably better.

Art demands chaos, and that's an order. Fledermaus Can't Get Enough " Really fast-made track, one vibe pumping through the song, kind of like a rave. Mark describes his way up the stairs to the studio and what happens along the way. We wanted to make a noisy dance record which would neither sound like Mouse On Mars nor The Fall but like something that should have existed a long time but simply didn't.

A classic future sound. Mark then put down his idea about the rhino, which he saw wearing a nickel necklace. We built the whole track around it later. His voice is so strong and blends perfectly with electronic sounds. His lyrics are immediate and work on many levels. He is incorruptible. He books a club to be able to play his favourite music, but when he arrives the resident DJ tells him off. There is no other way but to flood the club. Flooding is also associated with pissing into one's bed.

Mark was aware of Mouse On Mars but we are not sure how much it was a novelty thing or real listening pleasure for him. He must have been curious - otherwise he would not have come along. We live in strange and mysterious times' can also be understood as 'sounds'. Andi [Toma] and I tend to 'Mark then put down his idea about the rhino, which he saw wearing a nickel necklace' work a lot on details. We tried to avoid that for this project and keep the initial punch of the live sessions.

The intensity of trying things out for the first time is what we focused rather than working too much on the production. The basic track is a kind of acid soca track we derived from the live sessions. Andi added some guitar and Mark came up with the lyrics. Mark and Jan shout on that one. The duo sets we played in the last couple of years became increasingly harsh and noisy.

In fact, it was one of our gigs that started the collaboration. Mark and his wife Elli came to a show in London. The first Von Sudenfed session was based on such a type of set with Mark's voice as the icing on the cake. They are both in separate rooms and cannot understand each other very well. They sound a bit Fugazi, a bit power pop - but dirtier, and their craniums are showing.

One unavoidable comparison is to X-Ray Spex. Three of Mika Miko answer the phone, slumber party-style, calling to each other to pick up extensions in other rooms. They are: Kate drums Jennifer vocals, guitar , and Michelle guitar, vocals. Right now there are five ladies in the band, including Jenna and Jennifer's sister, Jessie.

Onstage they stomp around in bratty sunglasses and jogging shorts from the Eighties. They're super smart. Sometimes Jennifer sings through an old-school phone receiver. It's a secret. I tell people that's what it means and people are like, oh my god, what's wrong with these girls? It's about grabbing the world and magnifying it and handing it back to everyone like a shimmering birthday present, and saying, yourturn, please! People attheirshows bounce balloons around and take their pants off you can see it on YouTube , and get up to sing words they know by heart into the mic.

Mika Miko are bemused by the adulation. As Jennifer tells it, "You kind of know that people like your band but when you see it happening it's like where am I right now? You see that happening to other bands. It's like the twilight zone.

While I hate asking these age questions because too many band profiles use the musicians' ages as a stick to beat readers with, it seemed important here, because in the States there are so many limitations on where you can play when you're under 2 1. When they started, they were friends who hung out at The Smell in LA, an all-ages volunteer-staffed venue and gallery where they still work a few times a week.

They run sound, make food, book shows, whatever. But on tour, all-ages venues aren't always easy to come by. Mika Miko have been kicked out of 21 and counting. They've played towns that smell like cow manure where locals ask if they're "that chick band". They've braved slimy lakes and been kept awake by horny cicadas. But to hear them tell it, it's all great fun. Surely something pisses them off?

I ask about the LA scene - all of the glossy style magazine stories seem to be about bands like The Like, whose parents are record execs or stupidly over-connected. A band like Mika Miko- who have exponentially more talent, better songs, and have worked their asses off for years - only get a fraction of the mainstream attention.

Anyway, they're unfazed. As Kate explains, "That's not our world, we have our kind of people. And it's cool that bands like that are trying to do something instead of being like, oh, I have my Beemer. And why can't hard work and passion sit next to geeky silliness and jokes about butt fucking? To Mika Miko, there are no contradictions. Bounce le Gros was, like, two years, psycho! I think it's perfect.

Monthly night Bounce le Gros has bounced its last. Montreal's loss is the rest of the world's gain, however, as the night's founder, Ghislain Poirier, will be touring the globe with a live drummer. The album due in autumn on Ninja Tune promises "ragga, soca, dubstep, hip hop and really fucked-up bongo f lava to af rikaans rap: kicking k's first foray into af rican hip hop x plastaz Tanzania's preeminent crew incorporate traditional Maasai chants, unexpected rhythms courtesy of dancehall and Bollywood, helping create the popular Bongo Flava genre in the process.

Vids take in traditional village life and a dormant volcano -which erupted again the day after the band's Faza Nelly was killed in I'm trying to be dancefloor and intelligent at the same time, so it has to be catchy and it has to have depth to it.

Following collabos with Acton's True Tiger, an album is expected Summer And when you're in a minority, you have to open your eyes to what's coming from outside. When Dizzee Rascal released his first album, it was in Quebec maybe two months before anywhere else in North America.

From his perspective, it's location more than language that shapes your syllables: "People who rap in French in Quebec imitate what's going on in America. But if they rap in French in France, it's really social, and political. They're more involved with the language on another level, like literature. In English, at the moment it seems to be more about the bling- bling, party thing, and that's fine, but if you heard English hip hop from Africa, the lyrics will be really social.

The people who rap over there have a role in society. They speak for the people who don't have a voice, and they try to educate people. Like how early hip hop was in the United States. Fohey s. Ja rrwin hsiries! High above the New Forest where wild horses roam, illuminating the narrow roads of the Sussex Downs where fungi grow in tree crevices, hidden in storm clouds looming over London. Red, shadowy, slightly opaque. Fingers blur. Pots rattle in a deserted house boat.

In the distance, clown music. If you were to ask me to describe a recording studio I cherished, I'd say Liam Watson's Toerag - I've never been there, but it's situated in an alley between two semi-detached houses in the dingy suburb of Homerton, London E5, with checker floors and wonderful old analogue mixing boards like George Martin used in the mid-Sixties.

Miss Holly Golightly. Forgive me while I swoon. Her name, her music, her whole persona is associated with a certain exquisite Fifties-style fashion and rock'n'roll; sharpness, style. Her music is a drawl of simple eloquence, a sugar-sharp dispatch from past times where a song was a song, and a melody a melody, and all that mattered was honing the sound so you could communicate both with elan.

I can't think of anyone so able to define her own sound this side of Kim Deal, although I'm not convinced it's entirely deliberate on Holly's part. She is, as Jack White once put it, herself - and there is rarely a higher compliment. She follows her own path. She'll tear tiny cracks in your heart, if that's what you want.

This is the raging moon: the moon underneath which to rage. There is only you and the moon and the stars. How can you not feel your heart cracking? People confuse lo-fi with amateur. And that's not Toerag at all. Nobody could be more obsessed than Liam. Everything that Liam has is the best it could possibly be for its time, even if it's not in pristine condition. That's not slapdash, that's a life's work.

I don't know what lo-fi means. It sounds like something that someone didn't put a lot of thought into. You probably know a lot more about it than me. I was once told she's friendly, but guarded. She seems flat-out friendly to me. It seems like we've known each other years, even though we've never met before. So it gave up the ghost and that was really lo-fi because two of the channels were fucked on it. I've got this new one that's probably a couple of years older, but I have no idea how it works and I've been practising for my tour with my buddy's backing track tape playing in the speaker behind me.

It's funny because people thought that I'd gone out. Probably the nearest thing that I'm an expert in is breeding horses. That's my creative outlet. It also put paid to her dancing; Northern Soul mostly. Turning out well-behaved, mannered animals makes me proud of myself. And that is the irony of it.

I don't really know how anything works. I know how to work it for my purposes, but everything I have is capable of so much more. I've got a new laptop and I know that it can probably fly me to the moon but it's all I can do to pick up my email. It doesn't interest me. I mean, yes, she's named after Audrey Hepburn's elegantly doomed debutante from Breakfast At Tiffany's, and yes, she once fronted Thee Headcoatees, three brazen cigarette-smoking females from the early Nineties who inspired a generation of lady garage bands, especially in Japan.

They were actually even better than their brother band Thee Headcoats, for whom they initially formed just to add whoops and sighs in the background. A girl group, but man they were tough - they had a real ragged glamour. Everyone was in awe of them. They were the kind of girls you thought you could befriends with, butyou might not wanna According to her website, she's released 14 solo albums since turning solo in 1 - and God knows how many singles.

They vary in style,f rom 1 's playful, nicotine-stained Good Things to the bluesy Serial Girlfriend 1 to 's more poppy God Don't Like It with its stand-out, harmonica-led garage duet 'Feel Something'. All are deceptively simple.

One album might be slightly more redolent of early Rolling Stones; another might have the odd burst of Hammond organ; another might have a killer of a single hidden among the superb craftwork. My favourite, 's Truly She Is None Other is composed of 1 3 fully rounded, dryly emotional songs, with a low-end production like Ringo given full rein on the early Beatles recordings; sparkling and slightly scuffed-up.

On the back the pair are walking through a monochrome broad country lane, slightly apart, cold: she, dressed up in some form of country girl plus-fours, he with a smudge of a tie, shoulder-length hair. The music inside is all salutatory duets and warning shots fired across the brow of Americana: the odd clatter of a piano, a mewling of pedal steel, stately and sparse.

It's like the direction you wanted The White Stripes to take after hearing Jack's ballad with Holly from Elephant, but knew they never would, too restricted by expectation. Nick Cave could relate tosomeofthesongtitles: him, and Tim Hardin; him and Skeeter Davis; her and that whole generation who grew up thinking 'Hurt' was a Johnny Cash original. Refined, like Johnny's old sparring partner June Carter, or Nancy Sinatra when she was still keeping company with that salacious old soul Lee Hazelwood.

You're extremely productive as a recording artist, aren't you? I always have done. My parents are Londoners, but I grew up with my grandparents and we lived first in Wales, then moved to the wilds of East Sussex, and there's not much to do of an evening. If your nearest neighbours live three miles away, you're not gonna be hangin' out with your buddies. As soon as I got a regular tape recorder, I was taping John Peel, mucking around with my guitar. I'm an only child and I come the middle of fuckin' nowhere, so it came out of boredom really.

Being prolific is something I do to fill the time when I'm not doing anything else. I can't really relax. I'm not very good at sitting on my arse watching rubbish telly. Although that's exactly what I should do some of the time. It's a case of not knowing any better. I'm quite narrow in my view of music anyway. They do all sound different to each other, though.

Sometimes I'll have an idea and I'll say I wantthe whole album to sound like this, but I very rarely record a whole album at once, I've only done that once, which was a couple of years ago. But that's not how it really works for me cos that's two weeks off work. And when I say two weeks, most people would still be tuning their guitars after two weeks. But I don't know what I would do if you had six months.

You know; 'My boyfriend's run away'. And, er, 'Oh, he's come back again '! I don't sing about cars or submarines. I sing about what I know. It's very simplistic. There are only a few directions for my songs to go in. I like a very traditional formula, I like a verse and I like chorus.

I write with backing tracks and whatever goes on top of that comes afterwards. I'm always singing in my head when I'm riding. When I was doing endurance riding you have to keep up a steady pace for 25 miles a day, and that's a lot of miles to get through.

It's no different to when they used to have to move cattle across the plains; they made up songs. It was something to do. It's bass-heavy, energetic, herky- jerky and distorted. Some jokers have named this stuff 'blog house', for its prevalence on MP3 blogs; but essentially it's dance music with a rock aesthetic, and subtlety isn't its strongest asset.

It attracts a crowd of drunk indie kids who dress in neons and pogo all overthe dancef loor. A few minutes of this stuff can sound very fun indeed, but an entire set is enough to make you want to slice your ears off. In some ways, French duo Justice could be said to have fathered this movement. Their productions have a rawness and immediacy that make them sound they're geared towards rock kids.

They remixed wimpy indie band Simian, resulting in an enormous crossover hit. Go Buggies. I was listening to things like Sly And the Family Stone, which has a rough production, and I was never thinking, 'Eh, this production is kind of rough, I don't like it'. Because of the distortion and iconography [like the inch's cross-laden, Metallica-pastiche sleeve], people were thinking, 'This is really rock'n'roll'. But we made it like a funky track. Their louche Gallic-hipster look -T-shirts, leather jackets, scruffy hair- does not suggest two withdrawn, geeky guys who are obsessed with late Seventies pop and disco.

There's a perception on this side of the Channel that Justice form part of some hard-living, super-cool Frenchy clique who hang out and party hard every night in joints like Le Paris Paris with Sofia Coppola types and boys with ethnic scarves and gross fringes. But the reality is much tamer. It's more chilling, and watching DVDs How much more like a rock gig can you get?

But Justice say they never intended to be perceived in this way. We wanted it to be like a modern Chic- disco with pop and techno mixed. We are really rooted in production, and we don't have any knowledge of sound engineering. I do rememberthat before eair "because they were a bit likeus,twonerdy fixes guys doing everything themselves.

We were owd. Inspired by these pop luminaries, the pair's ie first project was for a compilation of pretend ke Eurovision Song Contest entries. Their entry didn't win, but igs," still made such a splash that it went on to e be released no fewerthan three times-finally we achieving enormous success last year under kind the new title 'We Are Your Friends', on, The snowballing attention their records d were attracting meant that Justice were invited to DJ around the world, and their dynamic sets became a new string to their bow.

Instead, we have a bunch of hyper-energetic disco tracks packed with funk, melody and joie de vivre. It's music that keeps moving, changing, bouncing. There are echoes of The Buggies' naive electronics in there, too, chirpy little blips and blops, as in the fantastic 'Let There Be Light', a huge squelchy techno-pop classic with wondrous nerd-pop squiggles. There's an awesome two-part epic called 'Phantom' that sounds like body-popping music for rainbow-coloured robots; 'New Jack' is a lithe funk monster; and 'One Minute To Midnight' is like music for a Seventies horror film about computers that attempt to control the world.

In short, there is a lot more to this music than you might expect. But the track Justice are most proud of is the new single, the catchy 'D. With a normal track, we know how it will sound after one hour of working on it, but with this one, for six months, we just didn't know.

So many times, we were like, 'OK, we're gonna abort this song because it takes so long to make it'. I know that because kids are singing it, it could be taken as a joke or whatever, but this is really a first-degree love declaration and a support action to him, to say, 'Eh, we love you. You look weird, but we like you! It's like, when you are coming out of jail and you release an album, you have a good chance to make a big buzz, and I think he's in this situation now-and he still sings amazingly, even on the last album, even though the tracks were really bad, he still has the magical voice.

But I don't know if he'd be up for working with new producers, because I don't think he wants to take risks at the moment. If we did our thing with a big artist, we would get more into producing an extreme thing than if we were working with a new band, when I think we would go more into a pop thing, because you don't have the same job.

With a big artist, you can take advantage of their fame to do some more weird things, and introduce stuff people are not used to listening to. Like, all the remixes we did, they were always too fast or slow to be played by DJs, they have no intro, and this is a weird type of music. But it's just because when I was a kid and I was buying singles, I never paid attention to remixes, so I think they're not important.

Sometimes we are lucky that people are playing it and dancing to it, but most of the time it's more for people listening at home. It would be so fake. It's funny because we've talked to some bands who are really good producers, and they were saying, 'We make songs and then put them on a karaoke tape to make them sound like you'. And I was like, 'What's the point?

If you are lucky enough to produce good things, why do you want to break that? Now he's back with a cocky new album, ready to talk about Dizzee fatherhood, and mentoring grime's new generation of DIY talent T. A spring day in East London, We're in transit. In the back seat, Riko Dan - Roll Deep's warrior MC, he of the ruff neck Yardie flow and chest-beating war bars - glugs cola and loudly relives every jab and uppercut of last night's boxing, Joe Calzaghe's merciless demolition of Jeff Lacy.

I'm here to make a short radio package on Rinse FM, the unlicensed London pirate which has acted as Ground Zero for grime since its birth in the early years of the decade. If the station's taken on a certain mythology in the minds of its audience - a global conglomerate of London street kids, day-glo new rave hipsters and the grime-loving corners of the international blogosphere- the truth is somewhat more mundane. Once through the padlocked metal doors, Rinse's layout- a tiny studio the size of a walk-in wardrobe, and a larger antechamber that, with its peeling carpets and fruit machine, looks more like a Sixtth Form common room than a incubator for some of the most innovative UK music of the last decade.

Roll Deep's Sunday afternoon residency is one of the station's most popular shows, and members of Roll Deep, Slew Dem, and Ruff Sqwad mill around chatting and skinning up. I ask Target if Wiley's coming down, but Target just offers a shrug. So when Wiley bounds in, out of breath, everyone pays attention. He's friendly, but steals off at the first sight of my minidisc recorder.

Instead, I chat to members of Slew Dem, and to Riko, who talks about the importance of the London pirates, beacons for kids excluded from the system. As the hours slip by, though, there's no pinning Wiley down. Afternoon turns to evening and eventually I squeeze into Rinse's darkened studio and watch Wiley spit, cap pulled down, microphone inches from his lips. Lines flow, repeat and mutate, bars stack on top of bars.

Forty-five minutes later, I shuffle out of the booth and head for the bus rank, and he's still going, in a trance, barely reaching for breath. If I'm at a rave, I'm thinking about the reloads. When I'm writing a lyric, I could be thinking about anything. Say we've just been to McDonalds, someone's jumped out their car and tried to jack us, we've had to jump out and fight them.

We've come back and I'm thinking, we've just been in a fight, I could have got stabbed. Sometimes, however angry you are, you could just slide off on a happy vibe. I mightjust write about how I was with my girl out in Paris, and we was looking at each other across the table. You get locked in the thing. Sometimes I've listened back to tapes of two-hour shows I've done, and I just think, my brain!

All those things it contains, all those things it stores. I don't know how it's all in there. You just kind of have to send for it. Wiley - a little broader, fuller in the face than the lean, hungry iceman of 's Treddin On Thin Ice - revolves slowly in his swivel chair. Last week's interview was cancelled when he decided he was due for a quick visit to New York. Today, to the visible relief of Jamie and James of Big Dada, the UK hip hop imprint who are putting out Playtime Is Over - he's relaxed, lucid, and somewhat contrite about his reputation for f lightiness.

But sometimes I just do what I wanna do. I go to the Lebanese on Edgware Road and eat, go chill out with the girl. But interviews, it's not a hard thing -it's a minor, really. It's here that Wiley created his new album. Playtime is Wiley's most consistent album to date: 1 6 tracks of cocksure, undiluted grime, but with a new, evolved scope. But 'Baby Girl' is a real surprise - a track about Wiley's new baby daughter that's bright enough to avoid gooey sentimentality.

And where there's money to be made, grime is interested. Ice Kid's 1 6. Chipmunk's 1 6. Little D's 1 8, and Maverick's 1 8. Finding them, it's just like the times I found Dizzee, or Trim - that feeling of oh my God, him. They're tomorrow's world, they'll be running this thing when I'm off on a yacht in Australia somewhere. His early solo productions, a procession of cold-themed Eski tracks with names like 'Eskimo', 'Ice Rink' and 'Blizzard', set the grime template - chill concoctions of acid blips and cartoonish motion that sounded like alien ringtones, the ideal musical bedrock for a new generation of young MCs.

Wiley, though, was a producer with the charisma to match his studio skills. On the mic, Wiley is bipolar: one minute the top man, top dog, invincible E3 kid carrying the scene on his back; the next, cold man with a cold heart, haunted by self-doubt - a typhoon of emotions that, if lesser MCs felt, they chose to hide under an airbrush job of screwface aggression. She turned one and it's registering. And then another one on the way!

But now I've got two humans to look after and you know they're in the world, you can feel them wherever you are. Earlier this year, Wiley spoke out in the pages of RWD magazine to announce his 'retirement'. Some took Wiley's announcement with a pinch of salt, and to some extent they were right. Rather, Wiley sees Playtime as his grime swansong, acknowledging that the gladiatorial hack'n'slash of the London pirates is no place for a year old father of two.

It's time to leave the scene to the younger generation. The kids who are sprouting are the kids with a work ethic, doing videos on Channel U, mix CDs, not waiting for no one to help them. For a bunch of young London kids whose only knowledge of the record industry was through the eyes of US entrepreneur-rappers, it's hardly surprising that at first, grime's Holy Grail was a major label record contract.

Experience, however, has bred pragmatism. That Wiley has grown into a role as the father of grime is no accident. Far from that grime stereotype, the damaged street kid from a broken home, Wiley was born into a large family in London's East End. He was surrounded by music.

I didn't always do music, for a bit 1 1 tried to play football. But it was in me. I held a mic in my hand very young. I was singing ragga, on the way down that road. But later I was like fuck it, just MC how you speak to people. That's the clearest way they'll understand you. Whereas UK hip hop, for all its parochial arrogance, is still primarily inspired by Stateside sounds, grime is uniquely British, melting pot of influences, both cultural and technologic: a conflation of the music of second and third generation African and Jamaican immigrants; the clandestine pirate poise of jungle; the tempos, vocals and infrastructure of UK Garage; and the cheap availability of basic sequencers and personal computers.

Wiley started young, ahead of the curve. It was one of the first sequencers. Then you had Atari ST and Amiga, and it went from there. The group's breakout Top 20 hit, 's 'Champagne Dance' is sinister and slippery, a writhing cockroach in your Moet, out of kilter with two-step's soulful consensus.

Pay As U Go eventually collapsed under the force of its warring personalities, so Wiley formed a new crew of younger, upcoming recruits: Roll Deep. Tracks like Oxide And Neutrino's 'Rap Dis'and More Fire Crew's 'Oil' seemed to be pointing towards something primitive and raw and vicious, and when that something appeared, it appeared like a firecracker through the letterbox. It made Dizzee a star, but while it put Roll Deep on the map, Dizzee was reluctant to rep for the crew in the mainstream and jerked free, turning his back on grime and heading off on his own path.

But as Roll Deep gained in potency, Wiley faded into the background he didn't even turn up to their Top Of The Pops performance of 'Heartbreak Avenue', claiming he "didn't like the song". Still, it's a symbol of Wiley's importance to the scene that he's remained a lightning rod for any young grime pup hoping to make his name.

If you don't do nothing, no one cares about you. When I was little I saw a film with swords and shields in it. You know? Man stole away his princess, and they got drunk on wine. But what happened to grime's mainstream push? As Melissa Bradshaw writes elsewhere, in attempting to break overground, grime artists have tended to water down the genre in favour of a 'multipack' approach - here's the jungle track, here's the salsa track - which might work as a stand alone single, but neglects altogether the pulse-quickening power of a grime set on the pirates.

Kano's album struggled to a moderate crossover success, and Wiley's one album for the label that made Dizzee, XL, stiffed badly - partly thanks to Wiley's lackadaisical approach to promotion, but mostly because fair chunks of it weren't very good. If grime's media profile seemed to be losing steam, it would be derailed altogether in November by the conviction of Carl Dobson, aka Crazy Titch.

A Stratford-born MC best known for his hit 'I Can See You', Titch was jailed for life for his role in the murder of 21 -year-old Richard Holmes -a premeditated killing apparently provoked by a lyrical clash. The case dovetailed directly into media panic about stabbings centred around mostly black districts of East and South London. How does Wiley feel about the accusation that grime glorifies gun and knife culture? Wiley looks genuinely pained.

Kids, if you're in a situation when you ain't really got no one, try to live a good life," he shrugs. But you know what it is, I've been on both ends and next week I could be dragged back into something. If someone came in here now and kicked off the door, my temperament would belike, 'Wan, what you doing? The kids out there, you need to look at each other and think, 'Do I really wanna kill him?

I don't really want to kill him'. All 'cos of some stupidness. It's a feeling, but you have to try to let go of it. All these deaths, I don't like it, it hurts me, bruv. My kids, I want them to end up on some different programme. I think he's going to try to appeal. I don't really know too much about the evidence, I don't know too much about it.

But look how easy stuff could happen. But he's going through that, bruv. I can feel what he's going through because any day you can go through these situations and end up being killed, or killing someone.

On 'Letter To Dizzee', all twinkling chimes and robot handclaps, he recalls raves and radio they've done together and calls out to Dizzee to "pick up the phone and ring me". I don't mean Joss Stone or Lemar, I mean actual urban acts. They can sell shit to indie kids all day long, but they don't know how to sell to street kids. They have had it easy for so long with licensed pre-packaged American acts, they don't know how to develop a British artist.

It's laziness. What does that show? To them, grime is old hat. Because labels aren't investing in grime, you won't see any pieces on grime in those publications. You wouldn't be asking me about grime if Wiley wasn't dropping on an 'The kids who are sprouting are the kids with a work ethic, doing videos on Channel U, mix CDs, not waiting for no one to help them' 'Pussy'ole', that was leaked on the internet months before the record's release.

On 'Pussy'ole', Dizzee tells the story of his pirate radio days, when he used to be friends with an older MC, "kinda like a little brother", before discovering that he was a coward, the titular pussy 'ole. Dizzee is playing vague, but it's transparently about Wiley, fallout from a beef between the pair that dates to a holiday in Ayia Napa several summers back.

The story's incomplete, but Wiley's since told it on the mic, and it goes something like this. So Solid decide this means war, so Wiley, playing the peacemaker, arranges a meeting with So Solid's leader, Megaman, so Dizzee can apologise.

Instead, Dizzee punches Megaman in the face, and in the ensuing melee, Dizzee and Wiley escape. Wiley tries to arrange for the pair to leave the island, but Dizzee decides to go out drinking in a Napa bar, where he is stabbed multiple times. A track on Showtime, 'Hype Ting', lashed out at Wiley for deserting him on Napa, but 'Pussy'ole' is something else - nasty, vitriolic. I wonder how Wiley will feel about 'Pussy'ole'.

It must be embarrassing to extend an olive branch, and to receive such a slap to the face in return. Why did you write 'Letter To Dizzee'? But then I hear he's got a track directed back at me on a war situation. Surely there are some things, like working with experienced producers and business people, that the kind of DIY culture you've been arguing for is gonna miss out on? Get a good lawyer, get a good engineer and a good manager, and you will be doing all those things.

At the moment I just license and release singles on 1 2-inch. I would like to expand into putting together some wider projects and turn it into a viable label in its own right. It could be a Tommy Boy oraDef Jam for grime. How's it doing this year? There's been no violent incidents for the police to pretend we are all thugs and mindless idiots, so that spoils them being able to hold us down.

There are a lot of people out there who love this music and just want to go out and hear it, and those people are coming to the events and behaving and enjoying themselves. It's exciting, energetic music, and a lot of people are frightened by young black men getting excited and energetic. They don't mind white kids with stupid emo haircuts and skinny emo jeans getting energetic. But then I suppose no one is afraid of a grown man with a Flock Of Seagulls comb-overwearing his little sister's jeans, so that's understandable.

A desire to represent itself, whatever itself may be. Last year's trickle of self-released product has switched up to a relentless torrent through the opening half of , and inevitably the quality varies. Soulfood, his debut, hits with the same unapologetic lyrical roar Boy In Da Corner did four whole years back, his heroically laconic delivery screaming assurance without ever raising the volume above horizontal. ForTrim grime ain't negotiable, it's what he is, or as he puts it on the rudimentary descending stabs of 'Wot.

Part 1 ', "I ain 't washed up, I'm what's up, I'm what's fucked. I'm what's marga and dark skinned, I'm what's from the market. I'm what doesn 't get played on Ras Kwame. It's hard to dissent from the defensive blast of scene manifesto 'Grime Music' where he cuts the crap and asks the question surely on every grime artist: mind right now, "Why won 't the media give grime music a chance, And stop trying to fight it, When you know your kids them like it? Kano never was comfortable with the grime tag back when it was fashionable, canny enough to see past the empty promises to the steely cage.

It's a testament to his class that the voice still sounds suave even angered up and sarcastic on 'IsThis Grimey Enough? First we get the title, Mogadoned multitrack-style 'I can feel what Crazy Titch is going through because any day you can go through these situations and end up being killed, or killing someone' I'm too grimey". Controversially half of those directions point across the Atlantic, from the gloriously bombastic soul of 'Understand' through a joyous straight jacking of 'One Nation Under A Groove' on 'Fun' and the epic muted poodle rock guitars of 'Stay Down The Road'.

Still, despite the influences they're indubitably grime. Not just cos they work with Target,DVA, Wiley, not just cos occasionally tempos and tempers get raised or shots are fired, but because grime is them, the streets they represent and wherever they want to take it. This is just the beginning. It doesn't mention you by name. So I've done two back at him. One's called 'I'm Not A Pussy'.

And the other's to analyse that 'Pussy'ole' tune. I always chat back. I didn't pinch her bum. I'm too nice. All the stuff and all the reasons why, yeah, you can say them 'til the cows come home. They do not amount to the sort of energy I put into people. It's not about money. You can't stop me living my life 'cos you're upset.

Why are you even upset? You had beef, and I was with you. I hope that when he's 28 he'll understand. He's fire. I don't know what fire he's holding onto, bruv, but I'm a big man. He knows in his heart I will never run from him, I will never hide. I'm a big boy, mate. He brightens. So I can get fit again and start slapping some of these dudes about again.

Life changes. I've got to set up my life so I've got a future for my children. When you've got kids, you don't want them to go through nothing. By the time they're 1 6, they'll go through things, but by that time their mind is set, sensible. With the gift I'll give 'em, music, they'll be sensible.

Wiley laughs. Everyone's at different stages, but some kids are clever straight away. I like setting them up, I get a buzz off it. The lesson? Grime artists need to stop waiting for the magical record company handout and get grafting. If the sound's going to prosper, it needs a label that operates like Trojan did in the Seventies; an independently helmed imprint in touch with the street, but with the muscle to take the music beyond.

Boy Better Know, or Eskibeat, could grow to be that label. Whatever, you feel certain that Wiley will be involved. As his uniformed satire squad regroup to tour Europe for the first time in 1 5 years, founder member Gerald Casale talks art porn politics - and how de-evolution shows no signs of slowing down Words: Joseph Stannard Illustration: Ben Newman The Devolutionary Oath 1. Be like your ancestors or be different. It doesn 't matter. Lay a million eggs or give birth to one.

Wear gaudy colors or avoid display. It's all the same. The fittest shall survive yet the unfit may live. We must repeat. Devo started a joke which started the whole world crying. OK, that isn't actually the case. What really happened was, Devo started a joke that eventually came true, a joke which reflected the outwardly vacant smile and repressed urges of the culture that produced them. Nowadays LCD Soundsystem's James Murphy may warble about 'North American Scum' to the delight of ironists everywhere, but he's merely producing a comfortably numbed variant- minus the true horror- of the original manifesto developed by Ohio students Gerald Casale and Bob Lewis as far back as the late Sixties.

Inspired partly by pseudo-scientific objections to Darwinism and, one suspects, partly by their own status in hometown Akron as sexually invisible egghead geeks, the manifesto of De-evolution is an ever- shifting collection of ideas, a satirical prism vital to the dissemination of Casale and Lewis' cynical world view.

Jungian psychology, Reichian Orgone theory, Crumb-esque sexual dementia, Church Of The SubGenius pranksterism all filter through, unified by the central idea that the human race has ceased to develop and is now sliding back towards its primitive origins. It isn't a world gone mad. It's a world gone stupid. Devo started a joke which became serious at the precise moment Casale witnessed the murder of some of his fellow students by National Guardsmen at Kent State University on 4 May, 1 , during a protest against the invasion of Cambodia launched by President Nixon on 25 April.

Four students were killed, nine were injured. That was the defining trauma. When you see people shot, when one bullet goes through a 1 9-year-old that you know, the hole, the exit wound that it leaves, all the screaming, the crying, the slow-motion like in Raging Bull. Within hours the university was closed. There were bands of deputised locals roving around in cars with shotguns.

And the evening paper put out a false headline, 'Students have shot guardsmen'. So people were looking to kill students. The Kent State massacre would seem to have been Casale's own frozen moment. You watched the hatred. It was basically like a civil war. You've got to remember the people that shot the kids were the same age as the kids, they were national guardsmen, they were 1 9. And it was at the height of the protests over the Vietnam war, and the illegal extension of that war into Cambodia, without an act of congress, back when people were informed about their government and the constitution and they cared.

Essentially an extended music video for two songs, 'Secret Agent Man' and 'Jocko Homo', the film introduced characters that embodied the concept of De- Evolution. Played by Mothersbaugh's father Robert, General Boy symbolised Fifties-style paternal authority while his son Booji Boy, played by Mothersbaugh Jr in a plastic child mask, represented the tendency towards poop-playing regression Devo had observed in Western culture. An unmasked Mark in lab coat delivers a lecture to an audience of Jocko Homo 'ape-men' who later riot and stab Booji Boy to death.

In The Beginning. Killer whales share the role as villains with humans. Abe Kobo. The Ark Sakura. Originally Hakobune no Sakura. Tokyo: Shinchosa, Juliet Winters Carpenter. New York: Knopf, An oddly-assorted group of people seeking shelter from the threat of nuclear war in a huge underground complex talk and quarrel about their situation and the invaders penetrating their stronghold.

Their leader gets his foot stuck in a giant toilet, which seems to symbolize death. A huge dynamite explosion fools most of the people into believing a nuclear war has occurred, and they set about the grim business of surviving underground; but the fellow whose idea the ark was in the first place struggles out to the surface to find the city around him oddly transparent. It is not clear what this means, but perhaps a nuclear war really has happened.

There is a mention of EMP knocking out computers. By the author of Woman of the Dunes and other well-known fiction. Abernathy, Robert. In Anthony Boucher, ed. Garden City, N. New York: Ace, Also in T. Dikty, ed. New York: Fell, Also in Martin H. Greenberg and Joseph D. Olander, eds. New York: Avon, Also in Walter M. Miller, Jr. Greenberg, eds. Beyond Armageddon: Twenty-one Sermons to the Dead.

New York: Donald I. Fine, When a dogmatic Communist Russian army colonel shows up, he asks the American what sort of infiltration he has been conducting. Smith argues for the wisdom of the U. The wily villagers smuggle the weapons into their homes and are prepared for the next attack. The colonel is killed, and the robbers—believing that towns attract atomic bombs and that safety lies in perpetual nomadism—force the villagers to leave. Atomic bombs are being used by the Earth army against Martian villages.

One soldier is a particularly enthusiastic combatant. The last group of men on Earth who were selected and bred to fight was the flying aristocracy of the airplane age, and most of that strain was wiped out when the atomic blast was invented, because the fightless people—the soft people, if you like—could still hate and press buttons.

Rather remarkable as a pre-Hiroshima story. Ackerman, Forrest J. In K[endell] F[oster] Crossen, ed. Adventures in Tomorrow. New York: Greenberg, New York: Belmont, London: Bodley Head, Also in Charles Nuetzel, ed. If This Goes On. Beverly Hills, Calif. Also in Robert Silverberg, ed. Mutants: Eleven Stories of Science Fiction. Nashville: Nelson, Adams, Ian. The Trudeau Papers. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, A crazed Russian starts a nuclear exchange with the U.

The U. Adams, John. When the Gods Came. London: John Spencer, New York: Arcadia House, Mutants and humans battle savagely on an Earth largely destroyed forty years earlier in a short atomic holocaust. Despite antiscientific bias on the part of the public, a remnant of the government has kept research going and is preparing a devastating nuclear attack on the last stronghold of the enemy.

The hero, a telepathic astronomer, is suspected of being a mutant, but he proves to be a descendant of an alien race which landed on Earth five thousand years earlier. Under duress, he helps the government destroy the enemy, then flees Earth with others of his kind in a rocket fortuitously uncovered by the explosion of an enemy atomic bomb. Adams, Robert. The Coming of the Horseclans, Horseclans 1. Los Angeles: Pinnacle, New York: Signet, It is A.

Most of southern California was tumbled into the Pacific, and various geologic upheavals have occurred since. Mutant telepaths who can communicate with jaguars and horses roam the plains and do battle with each other. There are lots of battle scenes, torture, and rape especially rape of children.

The mutant leader, Milo, aided by his wife the short but sexy and mighty-in-battle Mara , takes the long view of rebuilding civilization: a few more centuries of barbaric combat will be necessary, enough to fill several books, at least. Other volumes in the series continue relentlessly portraying slaughter, torture, rape, incest, cannibalism, bestiality, necrophilia, etc. Adams emphasizes viciousness and obscenity to an extreme degree, only seldom touching on the theme of nuclear war.

In volume 8 Adams kills off his favorite hero, but lets him linger on his deathbed reminiscing about past battles for four more volumes. Most of the sequels require no separate: treatment. In this volume it is denied that the various mutations present in the Horseclans world were caused by radiation, except, perhaps, for telepathy p. In chapters 9 and 10 Milo explores an ancient fallout shelter. This volume is unusual in being much less combat-oriented than the others.

Horseclans Horses of the North. Contains more about the nuclear war background of the Horseclans world than previous volumes, as the immortal mutant Milo Morai tells his quarreling comrades of how he founded the clans in a lengthy flashback. The nuclear holocaust was followed by massive plagues which killed even more people, and by numerous smaller military conflicts. An immortal Nazi doctor who views the war sees it as a purifying fire, exterminating the unfit. It is revealed that Hitler was a mutant.

The big cats which play such an important role in the series come from a game park. Contains nothing relating to nuclear war. Dedicated in part to Bernard Goetz, who shot two black teenagers on a New York subway.

Friends of the Horseclans II. Adler, Allen A. Mach 1: A Story of Planet Ionus. New York: Farrar, Straus Cudahy, As Terror on Planet Ionus. New York: Paperback Library, Battle against an interstellar monster named Karkong which feeds on nuclear power plants.

Although a macho admiral is frustrated in his desire to A-bomb the invader, the Russians do so, giving it vastly increased power. Finally Karkong is destroyed by penetrating its electric barrier with an advanced vehicle, allowing the Grid ship to strike it with lightning bolts. Agawa Hiroyuki. John M. Tokyo: Hokuseido Press, Seven years after the war the protagonist is compiling a report on the casualties of the bombing of Hiroshima.

A bitter, ironic attack on the American role in dropping the bomb and their later treatment of the Japanese. Some of those he interviews attack the Atomic Bomb Casualty Commission for its failure to treat the injuries it studies and for what is seen as the callous and racist attitudes of some of its staff.

The bombing of Nagasaki is criticized as unnecessary; ABCC findings that mutation rates were not above normal are questioned. Some members of the Willow Society, however, argue that the Japanese themselves were partially responsible for the catastrophe that ended the war, and that they probably would have used the bomb themselves had they had it.

According to one story, there was a rumor circulating in the hospitals that the Japanese did in fact have the bomb, had previously refrained from using it out of humanitarian considerations, but after the bombing of Hiroshima, had used it to destroy San Francisco and Los Angeles.

Even deathly ill patients cheered at this news. The Japanese are not depicted as saintly victims: some of them cheated to get extra rations and insurance payments they were not owed, some stole watches and gold teeth from the dead. Ahern, Jerry. The Survivalist, 1, Total War. New York: Zebra, Former medical student, ex-CIA agent, soldier of fortune, and survivalist John Thomas Rourke battles his way through war-wasted America.

Russell Sting IA boot knife. Interwoven with tales of love between individuals of the East and West, a confrontation over the Pakistan invasion builds toward war. The Russians destroy a U. Meanwhile Sarah and the kids, having survived the initial attack, flee their house where leaking gas threatens an explosion, take up residence in the barn, and are promptly attacked by a band of would-be rapist-looters. On the national scene, things are not going so well. The president, faced with incoming missiles, feels he has no choice but to order an attack.

He then recites the Twenty-third Psalm and shoots himself to prevent the Russians from using him during the coming invasion. With four-fifths of the U. France is relatively intact for some reason; perhaps Ahern wished to avoid the tedium of repeating its experience of the first two world wars.

Most spectacularly of all, the bombs on the West Coast have caused half of California to fall into the ocean, just like those hippies used to say it would. The midsection of the country will be an uninhabitable radioactive wasteland for a century or more, and the Earth may have been tilted off its axis, but only slightly.

Meanwhile, Rourke treats as many of the wounded plane passengers as he can, and goes for help in a nearby city with four other men, three of whom desert. The exception is a young fellow named Rubenstein who will shed his citified naivete and learn to enjoy slaughtering his fellow citizens like his mentor. Rourke and Rubenstein find a Geiger counter, strip off their radioactive clothes, and Rourke shoots a pack of attacking dogs. You would have made one hell of a great cowboy in the old west, John Rourke.

Nine parts killer and one part lover, our hero unselfishly labors over the wounded in a makeshift hospital, returning to the plane to find the other passengers slaughtered by a gang of bikers. He kills all twelve of them, including a woman. Ahern likes to include a token woman in his vicious gangs. Rourke and Rubenstein recite the Twenty-third Psalm, torch the bodies, and slaughter forty more bikers from another gang. The Survivalist, 2, The Nightmare Begins.

The two encounter a group of teenagers, all dying of radiation disease, who are bent on defending the town until their parents return. Naturally she falls for Rourke, and when they are captured, helps them escape with the new president. Ahern practices nondiscrimination: his villains are frequently black, female, or very young.

She buries the victim, then falls ill from drinking contaminated water. Finally arriving back home, Rourke finds her message tacked to the barn door telling him she has left with another family, kills four marauding youths, and takes off. The Survivalist, 3, The Quest. Rourke gives Rubenstein a tour of his Retreat, an impregnable fortress hidden in a mountain cave, with special emphasis on weapons enumerated by make and books unnamed. His shelter contains the stocks of food, clothing, and tools one would expect; it also includes a machine shop, a distillery for making alcohol fuel for his vehicles, and an artificially lit greenhouse.

Rourke, having promised Natalia that he would spare Karamatzov, strikes a compromise by gunning the Russian down in a Western-style duel. Meanwhile Sarah and the kids have made it to safety. Rourke and Sarah glimpse each other in the distance, but fail to connect. For no apparent reason, she decides she needs to move on looking for him just hours before he succeeds in tracing her to her retreat. Poor at getting together, the couple excels at faithfulness: both resist adulterous overtures.

The Survivalist, 4, The Doomsayer. Relations between Russians and Cubans are strained; but a greater danger threatens Florida than armed combat. A beautiful young seismologist Rourke rescues from a gang of Brigands tells him that a new geological fault formed during the war threatens to dump the entire state into the sea in the near future.

Sarah has proven herself a true survivor by knifing a Russian soldier to death and hijacking the boat he has been guarding. Meanwhile, Rubenstein, off to St. Petersburg to visit his parents, discovers and breaks into one of the concentration camps set up by the vicious Cubans to whom Florida has been ceded. At the last moment before Florida collapses, he finds his parents. Much activity by the hapless resistance occurs in this novel. Rourke briefly joins the official army, though bitterly critical of the government officials who caused the war.

The Survivalist, 5, The Web. Rourke and his wife blast their way through the landscape, continually missing each other, although everyone else keeps stumbling into acquaintances in the most unlikely fashion. Florida is evacuated. Natalia turns renegade, and gives Rubenstein photographs of the captured plans of the Eden Project.

Meanwhile Sarah exchanges favors with a Russian officer. It is clearer as these books go on that the professionals on both sides have far more respect for each other than for their less disciplined comrades. In a plot reminiscent of Jonestown, these folks give their kids one last whale of a Fourth of July and blow themselves up. An attractive librarian with spiderlike propensities keeps Rourke tied up and drugged in her basement so they can die together. Through a combination of martial arts and vitamin B-complex shots, Rourke escapes.

The Survivalist, 6, The Savage Horde. A reunited team of Natalia, Rubenstein, and Rourke is coerced into helping a fanatical military leader battle fanatical Wildmen in order to secure atomic missiles to be used against Russian headquarters in Chicago. Meanwhile Sarah continues to fight Brigands with the aid of her eight-year-old son, who is developing into quite a promising killer.

The Survivalist, 7, The Prophet. Rourke defeats the Wildmen with Sidewinder missiles fired from an experimental fighter and thwarts the schemes of the renegade sub commander who compares himself to the hero of On the Beach to bomb Chicago. Rourke is reunited with his family and learns new respect for Sarah as she and their son join in a shootout with some Brigands. The family that slays together, stays together. Meanwhile, the Russians have discovered the secret of the mysterious Eden Project.

The aftermath of the war is about to annihilate all life on Earth save that protected by a special serum and frozen for five hundred years. The Survivalist, 9, Earth Fire. Rourke and his companions foil the Russian plot to destroy the Eden Project by wrecking their particle beam weapons and plundering their secret base. They take enough supplies to preserve themselves in the Retreat for five hundred years, unfortunately leaving behind with the evil KGB commander one vial of serum.

The commander is apparently killed in a final assault on the Retreat, just as the sky catches fire and exterminates all animal life on Earth. The Survivalist, 10, The Awakening. Exactly years later, Rourke awakes, trains his kids for five years in the art of killing, then puts himself back in suspended animation for sixteen years so that he, they, his wife, Natalia, and Rubenstein will all be of roughly the same age.

Just before the others are due to awaken, son Michael goes exploring, discovers cannibals and a group of vicious survivors from a huge supershelter it features a nine-hole golf course! He rescues a young woman with whom he plans to mate, but is captured. They are rescued by Rourke, Natalia, and Rubenstein in a bloody battle.

At the end of the novel the Eden Project is sighted returning, and we learn that the KGB commander has survived after all and is still seeking vengeance on Rourke. The Survivalist 13, Pursuit. Rourke finds his daughter safe in a utopian colony in Iceland.

The rest of his family is seized as hostages by the Russians, but he frees them, although his arch-nemesis Karamatzov escapes once more. The Survivalist 15, Overlord. Rourke and Natalia struggle with the Russians for possession of a cache of unused nuclear weapons hidden in Chinese underground cities. The Survivalist The Struggle. London: New English Library, The Survivalist: Mid-Wake. This volume is unnumbered, but was published between numbers 15 and The Russians and Americans turnout each to have built undersea domed retreats in which they have survived for centuries, arming with nuclear weapons against each other.

Natalia and Rourke are captured by the Russians, but Rourke escapes and rescues her, only to be shot and apparently killed just after she has decapitated her evil husband, Karamatzov. The Survivalist: The Legend. This volume is unnumbered but was published after no. Aldiss, Brian W. In Airs of Earth. London: Faber, London: Faber, omitted from the edition.

Also in John Carnell, ed. Lambda I and Other Stories. New York: Berkley, The Chinese claim they have hit Hong Kong with a nuclear bomb by accident. Satellite warfare rages. The American president calls upon the Russians to give in, noting that peace is possible only because the British have remained neutral.

Most of the story is a preachy critique of the disarmament movement, and the ending portrays a prime minister determined to cling to power. However, the ironic outcome of the story considerably obscures its point. Aldiss San Bernardino, Calif. London: Four Square, London: Cape, London: Pan, In this wild fantasy, the lavish use of nuclear weapons has caused distortions in the space-time continuum which bounce the characters from era to era.

The Danube, blocked by a bomb, creates a European inland sea. The subtitle is a pun referring both to the nature of the plot and to the fact that the characters burst into song at intervals. London: HarperCollins, , pp. In this dreamlike fantasy of disintegrating reality, it is mentioned in passing that nuclear weapons have been used in the Crimea.

Frankenstein Unbound. London: Granada, New York: Random House, Greenwich, Conn. In Seasons in Flight. After a war between the Warsaw Pact and NATO blankets the Northern Hemisphere in radioactive dust clouds, high-ranking military officials flee and crash-land on the Pacific island of Sipora where they are greeted by a wrathful god, which is perhaps a volcanic eruption. London: Jonathan Cape, Retitled An Island Called Moreau.

New York: Timescape, During a nuclear war between the United States and China on one side, and the USSR on the other, an undersecretary of state crash-lands in a space shuttle near a South Pacific island where a thalidomide victim named Dart continues the experiments of H. Moreau in the creation of half-human monsters. After various adventures and a frolic with supersensual Japanese seal-people, the undersecretary discovers that the island is a secret project of his own department intended to design a radiation-resistant race of humanoids for life after nuclear war.

Moreau , the beasts revolt, and their creator is killed. Alexander, David. Phoenix 1: Dark Messiah. New York: Leisure, London: Star, Beginning of another postholocaust adventure series. Alter, Robert Edmond. Path to Savagery. He joins an isolated settlement in an abandoned department store and duels with its ruler for possession of his woman.

His ideal proves illusory, however, and he plunges back into the wilderness with an earthier female companion, seeking the fabled northern settlement of peace and progress called Genesis. For some reason, the nuclear bombs have prevented any rain from falling for years, but at the end of the novel hope is signaled by the onset of a shower. Basically a simple action yarn with very stereotyped manipulative, predatory women although you can buy any of them for a piece of a tube of lipstick.

The hero, however, is considerably more thoughtful and complex than the average pulp hero. Alvarez, John. See under del Rey, Lester. Amen, Carol. Anthony Messenger, September, Also in Ms. This story, in the form of a journal, describes the suffering and death of a suburban family when the world is destroyed by nuclear war.

At first people try to deny that the ill effects they experience are caused by fallout, even when babies begin to die. There is hoarding, but no rioting, looting, or rape. Source of the script for the film Testament. Amis, Martin. British edition? New York: Harmony, New York: Vintage, The story begins deceptively as a sentimental tale of a frolicsome puppy befriending a young girl; but it soon becomes apparent that humans fear and distrust dogs since a nuclear war has made the dogs human-eaters and rendered the humans defenseless.

Mu tated humans are in fact ceremonially fed to a dog-beast. Women are now stronger than men. Time is a debilitating disease which haunts a crowded and polluted world where the sky is discolored by the aftermath of limited nuclear wars. Sex is rare because of fear of disease and widespread depression.

People live vicariously through television actors who write their own lines. Amrine, Michael. Cambridge, Mass. A middle-aged scientist becomes involved in the Manhattan Project and works at Oak Ridge, witnesses the Trinity test, and investigates the after-effects of radiation in Hiroshima this phase of his career is skipped over quickly. Little detail is provided about the bomb; the novel is mainly concerned with the security problems of its protagonist, which mirror those of Robert Oppenheimer.

Deeply troubled by the moral implications of his involvement with the project, the scientist becomes active in advocating international control of atomic energy along the lines proposed by the Baruch Plan. Finally cleared by an investigation, he is asked to join a research project, headed by an ex-Nazi, to build a new radiation superweapon.

He is ambivalent, but about to begin work, when the novel ends. Anderson, Andy. See under Anderson, William C. Anderson, Poul. New York: Ballantine: London: Gollancz, London: Panther, Three hundred men aboard an interstellar ship return to Earth to find it has been destroyed by an unknown enemy and that they themselves are under attack from a barrage of nuclear missiles.

They go in search of the culprits and of a European ship crewed by women. The men rage, the women take tranquillizers to combat hysteria; the men fight, the women engage in trade. Meanwhile, men and women are reunited, but since there are more women than men, they will practice polyandry, except for the leaders, who prefer monogamy. The garage owner who had originally thought of the idea of praying for such a miracle cannot think of any appropriate response to its occurrence; disillusioned mobs destroy his property and kill him.

There is only muted hope for something better to emerge out of what seems to be the collapse of civilization. New York: Macmillan, Also in Cold Victory. New York: Tor, Also in Reginald Bretnor, ed. Future at War, Vol. The foreword to Cold Victory establishes that the entire series has as its background a nuclear holocaust which destroyed civilization. In Strangers from Earth. Interstellar adventure with terrestrial nuclear war in the distant background. Loosely linked to the Maurai stories.

In a revolt against a post-World War III dictatorship, which uses a small atomic bomb against the rebels, the rebel leader is no better than the tyrant he overthrows. An interstellar war story containing an incidental mention of radioactivity associated with the firing of spaceship guns. Also in Conflict. Also in Judith Merril, ed. New York: Dell, London: Mayflower, Also in Frederik Pohl, ed.

New York: Random, In The Horn of Time. Also in The Psychotechnic League. New York: Pinnacle, The Future at War, Vol. Also in J. Pournelle and John F. Carr, eds. There Will Be War. Maurai and Kith. Also in The Best of Poul Anderson. New York: Pocket Books, Also in Robert R Mills, ed. A Decade of Fantasy and Science Fiction. With a near- monopoly on technology, they ceaselessly strive to enforce an ecologically sound way of life, banning the use of nonrenewable resources and nuclear technology.

In this story they use flame-throwers to battle pirates flying in blimps, asserting their control over international trade. As is true of many of these stories, the superiority of high technology over traditional Maurai culture is argued. Also in The Horn of Time. Two hundred years later, a Maurai spy mission to India uncovers the secret construction of a fusion reactor and tries to destroy it. The story argues for cultural pluralism and against the uniformity produced by twentieth-century-style industrialism.

Also in Roger Elwood and Virginia Kidd, eds. Saving Worlds. Also published as The Wounded Planet. New York: Bantam, In Time and Stars. New York: McFadden-Bartell, Also in Winners. Also in Isaac Asimov, ed. The Hugo Winners, Vol. In a post-atomic war age, feudal wars rage across a fragmented America. Orion Shall Rise. A superior political thriller with some fairly good characterization and at least one strong female character, although most of the women function primarily as lovers.

Various groups struggle for control of a force-field shield developed with the aid of the Martians by a bright young man especially chosen and fostered to be of service from among the survivors of the second thermonuclear war. Also in Alden H. Norton, ed. Award Science Fiction Reader. New York: Award Books, Also in Kurt Singer, ed. Tales of Terror. London: W. Allen, Also in Donald L. Lawler, ed. Approaches to Science Fiction. New York: Houghton Mifflin, Warlike colonists return to Earth and conquer it using atomic weapons.

The hero defeats them by using a matter converter to create a critical mass of plutonium. In The Long Night. Also in Brian Aldiss, ed. Galactic Empires. New York: St. The leader of a successful rebellion against barbaric alien rulers plans to establish a new human empire with himself as dictator.

Both sides use nuclear weapons. There Will Be Time. Bound with The Dancer from Atlantis. A time-traveling mutant works to prevent the nuclear war he knows is pending. This is a loosely connected member of that series. The mutant comes in conflict with a ruthless group of time travelers bent on battling the Maurai, and he defeats them.

The novel ends with the victors planning flight to the stars. The early pages of the novel contain a good deal of satirical commentary on the radical movements of the sixties. Thermonuclear Warfare. Derby, Conn. This popular non-fictional account of the subject based largely on Kahn and Kissinger is neither extremely pessimistic nor overly sanguine. Boston: Gregg, Bound with The Winter of the World. Also in Robert P. Mills, ed. Pournelle, ed. Ruthless invaders from a decadent overpopulated world assault a peaceful pastoral planet using nuclear missiles and atomic artillery.

Taking advantage of the long periods of time required for the invaders to transport successive expeditions, the victims rapidly develop a high technology and defeat their enemies with superweapons. Twilight World. New York: Torquil, Europe has been devastated, but parts of the Soviet Union now dissolved into smaller states and the United States are slowly recovering. A census is to be conducted to find out how many people have survived. Meanwhile it is becoming apparent that radioactive fallout has created a far greater number of mutations than might have been expected.

There they encounter and battle their Siberian i. The Siberians are defeated. As in his other works, Anderson relies on high technology to solve problems. These stories fit in with the general theme of sympathy with homo superior. Vault of the Ages. Philadelphia: Winston, Two boys use technology from a time vault to defeat invaders and cause the lifting of the taboo on the old knowledge. Philosophical wisdom also stored in the vault will prevent its misuse this time. Also in Robert Silverberg, Martin H.

Greenberg, and Charles G. Waugh, eds. The Science Fictional Dinosaur. Anderson, Poul and F. In Roger Elwood, ed. The Many Worlds of Poul Anderson. Radnor, Pa. Also in Poul Anderson. The Book of Poul Anderson. New York: DAW, Also in Groff Conklin, ed.

A Treasury of Science Fiction. New York: Crown, omitted from the Berkley paperback edition. Also in Isaac Asimov and Martin H. Caught in the Organ Draft. New York: Fawcett, Also in Damon Knight, Martin H. First Voyages. The Great Science Fiction Stories: 9 After a two-year war involving atomic and bacteriological weapons, few people survive, and the majority of births are abnormal.

Dust, colloidal dust of the bombs, suspended in the atmosphere and cutting down the solar constant by a deadly percent or two. The story implicitly criticizes simplistic stories of survival, but is not entirely pessimistic. We should never have created science. It brought the twilight of the race. The race brought its own destruction, through misuse of science. Our culture was scientific anyway, in all except its psychological basis. If we do, the race may yet survive. Anderson, William C[Charles].

Pandemonium on the Potomac. New York: Crown, In this comic novel, a man with strange powers and his beautiful daughter, claiming to be sent from Venus, force the world into disarming. The Russians cheat and secrete four H-bombs in American cities, blowing one up as a demonstration and threatening to explode the others unless the United States withdraws all its conventional forces from around the world.

The Valley of the Gods. Baraboo, Wis. Unavailable for review. See Tuck. Angell, Roger. Boston: Little, Brown, Freeport, N. A colonel callously talks about the inadequacy of Hiroshima and Nagasaki as tests of nuclear bomb effects, and explains how pigs will be dressed in protective clothing for the upcoming Bikini tests. Angus, Douglas. In John Bell and Lesley Choyce, eds. In the ruins of abandoned New York City, two men struggle with the problem of how to extract an aching tooth.

The only clue that the destruction was caused by atomic bombing is the fact that all windows have been blown out. Anthony, Piers. Battle Circle. Originally published as three separate volumes: Sos the Rope. New York: Pyramid, London: Corgi, Var the Stick. London: Transworld, Neq the Sword. Heavy emphasis on combat, sex.

According to Michael R. Anvil, Christopher. In John Campbell, ed. Prologue to Analog. Also in Stanley Schmidt, ed. New York: Davis, Appel, Allen. Till the End of Time. New York: Doubleday, A history professor travels back in time and strives to prevent the nuclear bomb from being dropped on Japan, but what he experiences in World War II teaches him instead the necessity of the atomic destruction of Hiroshima.

The Japanese, it seems, besides carrying out inhuman experiments on captive subjects and developing a jet engine with the help of Amelia Earhart were developing the atomic bomb themselves. Modern Japanese are also depicted as corrupt and malevolent. A powerful anti-Japanese tirade presented as an adventure story.

Ariss, Bruce. Full Circle. New York: Avalon, Even the larger mammals are extinct. The Indians have banned all explosive weapons and the use of their simpler ones against each other, outlawed technology of all sorts, and alcohol. Atomic research is particularly taboo. Yet these are no simple primitives: their rejection of earlier technology comes from a sophisticated understanding of history. When they emerge, all of them die of poison ivy except for the young man and his sister.

He insists on following his orders to explore the world for surviving enemies in order to exterminate them with stored nuclear weapons, but finally learns there is no one left to fight. Then he plays a tape which reveals that the holocaust was mistakenly set off by the misinterpretation of a gigantic meteor impact. The two whites marry Indians and adopt their ways. Although some technology may be reintroduced into their culture, precautions will be taken to prevent a recurrence of the ancient tragedy.

Armbruster, Frank E. June Armstrong, Michael. After the Zap. New York: Popular Library, A bizarre adventure story inspired by the common antiwar argument that if the button to launch a nuclear attack were implanted in the heart of a human being, a leader would be deterred from doing so. Although the bombs turn out to be fakes, the point of the exercise remains unclear.

The Zap was a violent burst of EMP which scrambled the brains of the surviving people in various weird ways, including loss of memory. In the end, the protagonist realizes that he was the creator of the Zap Bomb whose effects he detests so much. New York: Popular Libary, Expanded from Going After Arviq. In Janet Morris, ed. New York: Baen, A female anthropology graduate student strives to teach Eskimos their own traditional ways so that they can survive during the nuclear winter.

Much of the latter part of the book is devoted to details of whaling. It is revealed that the U. Aronstein, Robert. Untitled sketch in Earl W. Foell and Richard A. Nenneman, eds. How Peace Came to the World. A brief account of an East-West conflict leading to disarmament. A truce and peace treaty ensue in a shocked world, and growth toward world unity spreads. Unusual in that it is told from the point of view of a Russian.

Asghar, Khalida. In Indian Literature Nov. New York: HarperCollins, , pp. A haunting surrealistic sketch in which the narrator can see refugees and the pollution from a seeming nuclear war involving a nearby city creeping horrifyingly into an Indian village. Since no one but the narrator is willing to acknowledge the ominous changes taking place, the story can be read as an allegory of our willful blindness to the danger of nuclear war.

A very rare example of a nuclear war story by a third-world woman author from Pakistan. Ashworth, Malcolm. A young boy in a primitive tribe has a vision in which he seems his world as it might have been: a hell of nuclear war and its aftermath. Asimov, Isaac. The nuclear death of Earth dealt with in Pebble in the Sky is briefly alluded to in this novel.

In Nine Tomorrows. Also in Noel Keyes. Earthmen and Strangers. New York: Meredith, Aliens keep watch over Earth from the back side of the Moon, waiting for a nuclear holocaust to erupt as it has on many other planets. Then they can conquer this world as they have others in the wake of similar conflicts. Pebble in the Sky. Also in Triangle. Garden City: New York, Doubleday, In a afterword, Asimov acknowledged that he no longer believed humans could survive on a radioactive Earth such as that depicted in this novel.

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