Now that most of the FU records are safely catalogued (Just Glass Boys to go) I'll be adding a few vinyl compilations and solo projects etc...

Fucked Up + Photocopied

Finally, got hold of a photocopied No Pasaran (above right). These are hand-made pocket sleeves, photocopied, folded, pasted and assembled, probably with loving care, before the proper sleeves arrived. They were given away or sold at early shows, so it's the first available verision of the first 7" and worth a few punk points, even though it looks a bit shonky. This one was given to a member of the Satanic Surfers at a show in Toronto, linking it to the 05/27/02 date below.

More Shouty Shit

"Voce Rubata" (translation: "Stolen Voice") featuring members of the Canadian Opera Company, inspired by "the misleading illusions of liberty and the voice."

Epics in Baiting

Will & Fred

The last man is a term used  Friedrich Nietzsche in Thus Spoke Zarathustra to describe the antithesis of the imagined superior being, the √úbermensch, whose imminent appearance is heralded by Zarathustra. The last man is tired of life, takes no risks, and seeks only comfort and security.

The last men claim to have discovered happiness, but ''BLINK'' every time they say so.
(That's from Wikipedia, so it's definitely true)

'What is love? What is creation? What is longing? What is a star?' thus asks the last man, and blinks. 
The earth has become small, and on it hops the last man, who makes everything small. His race is as ineradicable as the flea; the last man lives longest. 'We have invented happiness,'say the last men, and they blink. They have left the regions where it was hard to live, for one needs warmth. One still loves one's neighbor and rubs against him, for one needs warmth...
One still works, for work is a form of entertainment. But one is careful lest the entertainment be too harrowing. One no longer becomes poor or rich: both require too much exertion. Who still wants to rule? Who obey? Both require too much exertion.
No shepherd and one herd! Everybody wants the same, everybody is the same: whoever feels different goes voluntarily into a madhouse.
'Formerly, all the world was mad,' say the most refined, and they blink...
One has one's little pleasure for the day and one's little pleasure for the night: but one has a regard for health.
'We have invented happiness,' say the last men, and they blink."