Pre-War Glamour Meets Post-War Gumption

The Atomic Sisters didn’t just survive the collapse—they survived it with their victory rolls intact. Raised on old Hollywood films and mama’s motto of “utilize what you have and look good while doing it,” these gals never saw a contradiction between elbow grease and eyebrow pencil.

Before the bombs, they hoarded Bakelite bracelets and Betty Grable films. After? They learned to fix generators in evening gowns and harvest fungus wine in kitten heels. Because if you’re going to rebuild civilization, you might as well do it with style.

The Family Business

The Sisters come from good bunker stock—practical people who know the value of a well-timed joke and a well-stocked pantry. Their brother, Everett Sloane, runs his own operation (you’ll hear more about him on his frequency), but family dinners still happen when the radiation count allows.

Vivian – The eldest and the anchor. She’s got kids to raise and a broadcast schedule to keep, but her lipstick is always perfect and her aim is always true. Practical, protective, and prone to delivering life advice in between song sets.

Rosemary – The middle sister and the harmonizer in more ways than one. She’s the peacekeeper, the one who smooths over Frankie’s latest scheme and reminds Viv to take a breath. Mother to a brood of her own, she somehow manages to keep everyone fed, the equipment running, and the three-part harmonies tight.

Frankie – The youngest and the wildcard. No kids, all mischief, and the one most likely to dare you to do something you’ll regret. She’s got the biggest voice, the boldest ideas, and absolutely zero patience for defeatist talk. If there’s a risky broadcast or a cheeky lyric that pushes boundaries, Frankie’s behind it.

The Sister Dynamic

They harmonize like angels but argue like dock workers. One minute they’re crooning a pre-war standard in perfect three-part harmony, the next they’re debating whose turn it is to clean the fungus wine vats. They finish each other’s sentences, steal each other’s lipstick, and would go radioactive for each other without hesitation.

Viv keeps them grounded. Rosie keeps them together. Frankie keeps them honest.

They remember the old world—the one with department stores and drive-in movies and ice cream that didn’t glow. But they’re building something new, something that honors where they came from while embracing where they’re going.

Behind the Microphone

When they’re not wrangling kids or maintaining the broadcast equipment, the Atomic Sisters are cooking up new material. Their sound is pure 1940s swing filtered through wasteland static—torch songs about lost civilization, jump numbers about bunker living, and the occasional cheeky number that makes the old-timers blush.

They broadcast because someone has to keep spirits up. Because music matters, even when—especially when—the world’s gone to hell. Because if they can make you tap your foot while dodging radiation, they’ve done their job.

“We’re not just surviving, sweethearts—we’re thriving. With lipstick.” – Frankie

“And sensible shoes.” – Viv

“Speak for yourself.” – Frankie

“Girls, we’re on air…” – Rosie

Tune in to hear the Atomic Sisters’ complete catalog in Vinyl Vault.*