Slow Boil Rising II

The Music of Slow Boil Rising: The Future Sound of London and Spaghetti Westerns

 

The Music of Slow Boil Rising: The Future Sound of London and Spaghetti Westerns

 

In the year 0039, the world of Slow Boil Rising is firmly planted competing worlds. This is the case both in terms of time and setting.

In terms of time, 0039 is a nightmarish future with all sorts of gadgetry that does not presently exist. On the other hand, this environment is grounded in what we have today.

We have armored vehicles, but powered by fuel cells. We have jet-engine combat aircraft, but flown entirely by computer and armed with air-to-air lasers. We also have ubiquitous unmanned drones scouring the countryside to feed targeting information back to command centers while people listen to cheesy pop music about getting high in the club. (Okay, maybe that last sentence perfectly describes 2016 too.)

In terms of setting, Slow Boil Rising winds through the Unified Society of America, which is starkly divided between the Designated Habitation Zones (DHZs) and the Uninhabited Zones. Legally, the only places in which people are allowed to live are in the Urban DHZs or designated communal farms. Tall razor-wired fences separate DHZ inhabitants from the places they are not supposed to go, and proper security clearances are needed to travel beyond the zones without an entry/exit visa. DHZ dwellers believe the fences are there to protect them from the savage “Intolerants” who live out in the countryside.

Antiseptic, totalitarian, overdeveloped, and cold are the concepts that come to mind when I write plotlines set within the DHZs.

In contrast, the Uninhabited Zones have a much more post-apocalyptic feel to them. After all, the Uninhabited Zones were officially depopulated and abandoned, returning them to a state of nature.

Here is how it went down according to First Sergeant First Class Hamilton:

… The problem of infrastructure continued to plague the Department of the Internet. This problem came to an end after the Broadband Affordability and Availability Act of zero zero thirty, affectionately known as the BAAA. Subparagraph two hundred and nineteen of the BAAA required all persons in the U.S. who lived in communities of less than two hundred thousand people to relocate to urban centers or designated U.S. farms, where they would have greater access to the services our government provides to them free of charge.

Long story short, anyone who refused to leave their home and report to a DHZ was declared to be an “Intolerant,” or an outlaw. Eventually, a rebellion developed and the countryside turned into a battlegrounds. Small towns were either abandoned to nature and overrun with feral chickens or they were destroyed by the central government through brutal bombing campaigns. As a result, the countryside feels like Mad Max meets High Plains Drifter in my mind.

It is a bit of a challenge to switch between the competing settings of urban dystopia and rural post-apocalyptica. But that is where my favorite tool comes into play: music.

I’ve said it before, and I will say it again. Music and writing are completely intertwined for me. And I’ll share a hodgepodge of tunes that help me switch from urban dystopia to post-apocalyptic countryside.

Rural Post-Apocalyptica

First off, we’ve got the tried and true Spaghetti Western music from the ‘60s and ‘70s courtesy of Italian film composers who did a marvelous job capturing the grit and feel of the Great Not East (as it is referred to by DHZ dwellers). I geek out go into more detail about my feelings for Spaghetti Westerns in an older post here.

But for juxtapositional purposes, I will share a couple of my favorite tunes. Here is “Fuga Dall'Ovest” by Bruno Nicolai, from the soundtrack to Corri Uomo, Corri (Run, Man, Run). My favorite part of this track is the changeover that happens about 90 seconds in. So stick with this one:

 

And here are “Side Saddle,” “River Bed,” and “Tumbleweed” by Piero Piccioni from the Minnesota Clay soundtrack. This soundtrack is one of the deepest Spaghetti Western soundtracks out there, and I have been known to listen to the whole thing on repeat while hammering out chapters featuring El Asno, Hackberry, Beetle Johnschild, and company.

 

Contrasting Dystopia in the Designated Habitation Zones

Hyper urban, hyper modern, crowded, and paranoid. These are the things that come to mind when it comes to what the Designated Habitation Zones feel like.

You’ve got ubiquitous surveillance, a corrupt government, and thousands of people around you, many of whom might break into a protest chant at the drop of a Department of Protests official’s hat.

The feel and vibe is remarkably different from what is going on in the Uninhabited Zones. The constant threat of death by drone or by rattlesnake is replaced by the constant threat of violating a law you never heard of and being sent off to a camp of one sort or another.

I rely on many bands to get into the headspace of the DHZs, but one that gets played in my MP3 player more often than not these days as I write volume two of Slow Boil Rising is The Future Sound of London, a British duo who have been pioneering electronic music for nearly 30 years. I first got turned on to FSOL in college, with their thumping beats paired with ambient harmonics coupled with soaring melodies. For a while, I wanted to be these guys despite not having a fraction of their musical abilities.

(Thankfully, I found writing as an outlet, which has spared the world more goofy lo-fi stuff like the Ballad of Alexander Hamilton. “Oh my God, Aaron Burr. You shot me. You shot me in the eye!”)

Have a listen to some of these tracks to hear the vibe FSOL has made famous over the years.

 

“Vertical Pig” from the Lifeforms album.  This track works for both urban and rural dystopic settings.

 

“Smoking Japanese Babe” from the ISDN album. This track captures the spirit of Danbill Sulla, staring at the bottom of a glass in a smoke-filled 0039 speakeasy.

 

 

Here are “Kai” and “Amoeba,” also from the ISDN album. These track really conveys a sense of urgency. I blast these tracks often when it is time to write action sequences.

Check out “Snakehips” from ISDN. I love that this track samples the great Isao Tomita’s album Snowflakes are dancing, which is a collection of Claude Debussy tracks on moog.

 

I’ve talked mostly about FSOL’s older songs, as they are from a time when I first got into the group. But they are still making quality music to this day, music with a killer ambient vibe. Take for example “Point Of Departure” from the Environments Five album.

 

Despite flying under many people’s radars, FSOL is one of the greatest musical groups in terms of creativity and creating cohesive albums that are melded together like a fine alloy. I look forward to blasting them as I write a chase scene in the Seattle DHZ later this week.

The Postscript for Slow Boil Rising

The following is the Postscript I've added to Slow Boil Rising today, on the seven-month anniversary of its release.

Postscript to Slow Boil Rising

 

D.T.E. Madden: 75 January 2016

I thank you for reading Slow Boil Rising. It is the culmination of about 13 years of writing, mulling over, and mulling over some more. It was 13 years in which short stories grew into long stories, which in turn grew and collided with each other to form the universe you just witnessed.

You can see passages originally outlined by lantern light in autumn woods as fish fried and whiskey warmed by the fire. You can see passages written under the influence of basic military training. You can even see the law school phase of the work that now appears largely in the appendix, as I grappled with the often absurd, pretzel-logic of the law.  

I know there is much left hanging with this story. Needless to say, I will not leave you hanging for 13 more years while I hammer out a sequel.

A sequel is indeed steadily coming together.

As I write passages featuring purple men, the origins of El Asno, the fate of Bowperson, the mania of Danbill Sulla, and a few new characters you have not met yet, engaging with you keeps me going. Your feedback keeps the writing energy flowing.

With that in mind, please connect with me via my blog on dtemadden.com, on Goodreads, on Amazon, and via the Slow Boil Rising page on Facebook.

I thank you again for joining me in the year 0039 and look forward to joining you again there soon.

D.T.E. Madden

March 15, 2016

Spy Tech in Slow Boil Rising: Shortwave Numbers Stations

I'm doing some writing of the sequel to Slow Boil Rising this evening. I'm writing a bit of a flashback/origin plot line, set about four years before the events of SBR1, back in the year 0035. 

As I write, one of the main characters is receiving coded instructions via a "Numbers Station." A numbers station being a radio station that does nothing more than broadcast a voice reading numbers in sequence. Believe it or not, it was fairly easy to find them back during the Cold War. But they still exist and a few are broadcasting as you read this.

Have you ever heard a numbers station?

I'll never forget the first time I tuned one in. It was a late October hunting trip back in 2007. I was in between law school and a real job, so I decided to go be a hermit and eat what I could shoot for a little while in the woods of Whetstone Creek Conservation Area in Callaway County, Missouri. I had not seen another human being for three days, and my only social contact had been with a pack of feral dogs who tried to steal my squirrels. 

On a very cold and windy evening, I had just finished eating some unfortunate varmints I had encountered earlier that day, and I was settling down by a hickory fire with a metal mug full of 100-proof bourbon.  (What can I say? It was cold out!)

I fiddled with my dial, and came across something that sounded very much like this recording of one of the most famous numbers stations of all time: The Lincolnshire Poacher.

My jaw dropped, and I began to worry that I had procured some poisonous whiskey. The numbers just went on and on.

When you hear the recording the of the Lincolnshire Poacher, what do you think is going on?

Within the past few years, I’ve had the better fortune of running across a numbers station while also having access to the interwebs. I Googled the frequency, and bingo! Online research shed a bit of light on the phenomenon. 

There are a decent amount of working theories on how these stations operate. What these theories have in common is the use of a shared cipher between the people doing the transmitting and the people doing the receiving. The most uncrackable of which is a "one-time pad" that is custom made for the code. Cruder versions involve translating the numbers directly into letters.

The method I am writing about in SBR2 is a combination of a numbers station and "book code." In other words, the repeating sequences of numbers are directing the listener to specific words on specific pages of a specific book  to construct a message.

Now if you want a real treat, listen to the UVB-76, otherwise known as The Buzzer.

Sweet dreams!