Between 1950 and 1964, as a result of slight federal policy shifts, Cold War civil defence went from a pro-urban policy dedicated to the preservation of communities to an anti-urban policy focused on social control in the wake of an attack. Civil defence volunteers in Baltimore along with some of the city's civil defence paid staff, who had bought the federal message that they could protect themselves and their communities for nuclear war, allied with anti-nuclear activists against an increasingly militarized programme – one that by 1961 prioritized post-attack policing and de-emphasized the imperative to preserve urban neighbourhoods.

The present bibliography is a continuation of and a complement to those published in the Urban History Yearbook 1974–91 and Urban History from 1992. The arrangement and format closely follows that of previous years. The list of abbreviations identifies only those periodicals from which articles cited this year have been taken, though many other journals are also checked.

The Dyos Prize has been awarded annually since 1992 for the best article submitted to the Urban History Journal in each calendar year. The articles are judged by the journal editors and two independent adjudicators. The prize is named after H.J. Dyos (1921–1978) to commemorate his innovative contribution to the development of the field of urban history. To reflect the catholicity and interdisciplinarity which Dyos encouraged, no temporal, geographical or thematic restrictions exist, except that the paper must make a significant contribution to the study of urban history. The prize consists of a cash sum and the publication of the paper in Urban History.

Time is without doubt a very relative concept. As we all know, sometimes it moves quickly, sometimes it moves slowly and sometimes it seems to be at a standstill, although this cannot be said about the waning Finnish summer. At least it should be waning, but it seems as if it is gathering way at the moment. But irrespective of what time feels like for us individually, and irrespective of this strange 2015 Finnish summer, one thing is certain: time moves inexorably. And with moving time come changes, probably the mere definition of time anyway. Either way, Polar Record is subject to time as well and in order to keep up with time, one needs to adapt.

If as a performer and Brahms’s close collaborator Joachim promoted the music of Bach, Beethoven and Brahms, a process relatively unsympathetic to programme music of the Neudeutsche Schule, as a composer Joachim’s works do not display such an aesthetic stance. His own music, which he dubbed ‘psychological’, was intended to ‘detect and save’, that is faithfully to perceive and record his emotions. As part of this process, Joachim’s Abendglocken, the second of the Drei Stücke, Op. 5, for violin and piano (1853), betrays a striking use of ciphers, taking Robert Schumann’s musical word games to a heightened level and using notational signs such as double bars as framing devices that suggest an intriguing link to the daguerreotypes of early photography.

‘Psychological music’ describes a compositional approach Joachim pursued in the 1850s, when positivism began clashing with the existing idealist philosophy, as demonstrated in the emergence of empirical psychology from philosophy and metaphysics. Enrolled in philosophy at Göttingen University in 1853, Joachim would have encountered psychology from a pre-empirical, phenomenological perspective, which may have initiated his ‘psychological music’. The dedicatee of Abendglocken and the constant subject of his thoughts – and arguably of his music – was Gisela von Arnim (1827–1889), daughter of Bettina von Arnim, with whom he was romantically involved and whose encrypted name – G♯–E–A – provides a valuable key to understanding Abendglocken in particular, and Joachim’s psychological music in general. This article considers the autobiographical, philosophical and cultural influences on Joachim to interpret ‘psychological music’ as it played out in Abendglocken.

Fromental Halévy’s five-act grand opera La Reine de Chypre premiered in Paris in 1841. Many critics viewed the work as a great success and seen as a true rival to La Juive (1835). Wagner, who was in Paris at the time, even went so far as to claim the composition ‘a new step forward’ in the world of opera, evidenced in the many review articles and publications he wrote about the work. This article attempts to uncover what Wagner admired about Halévy’s composition, especially within the context of the German composer’s ‘artistic exile’ in France (1839–1842) and the completion of a new dramatic conception of German romantic opera in Der Fliegende Holländer (1843). The connections between the two works are explored, revealing an affinity for the exile and the desire for redemption.

Cette étude se propose dans un premier temps de faire un tour d'horizon de la question du statut indécis de la tournure finale négative pour (ne) pas que et de celle relative à sa motivation. Chemin faisant, seront exposés des observables qui montreront à quel point cette tournure est productive. Dans un deuxième temps, on évaluera les avantages de la motivation du déplacement du (des) marqueur(s) de négation (ne + pas ou pas tout seul) à l'extérieur du complexe verbal à la lumière du principe de l'iconicité, piste qui reste moins exploitée dans le traitement de pour (ne) pas que.