Music as magic. Specifically pop music as magic. A simple enough conceit but more often than not with simplicity, complexities are found within the lining of the bare tapestry. Kieron Gillen and artist Jamie McKelvie have woven a tale of magic set inside the burnt remains of the great empire of Brit-pop. The lead character in the story, David Kohl, calls himself a phonomancer — think John Constantine by way of Greg Dulli (former lead singer of The Afghan Wigs who can now be found fronting the sweaty soul outfit called The Twilight Singers). Kohl incants his spells through lyrics of pop songs, but so far the only real display of his powers is to talk a lass into the sack – not a horrible way to use one’s Dark Arts, but certainly not the most likeable. A Goddess takes umbrage with his egotistically misogynistic use of his Kenickie spell (basically a music critic’s breakdown of the band which leads to a lowering of the girl’s pant line) and puts a curse on him. But only after she tasks him to stop an “interference” placed on an “aspect” of hers called Britannia. I got a bit lost there too, but it seems that the Goddess might be asking Kohl to investigate the death of brit-pop itself.

Into issue 2 as Kohl lead to a former club of his past, or “church” as he calls it, by his magic-clueless friend Kid-With-Knife. Inside, the phonomancer is disgusted by the “retromancer” spinning an old ditty by K.C. and the Sunshine Band. “I’m trying to sentimentalize a cultural Chernobyl”, he says and we get our first true feeling from Kohl. Far more than any human interaction, he longs for a place that he felt comfortable in, that he felt at home. He’s spent the first two issues pointlessly posturing (to use his own words), but what he’s really doing is protecting himself. Putting up walls of judgmental intellectualism he keeps out unwanted, or unworthy, zeitgeist travelers. KWK takes Kohl to see a “ghost” of a girl not yet dead – one who slept with KWK to make Kohl jealous, even though he had a thing for her. Personal interactions are at best superficial in the Phonogram world. Only one person in the first two issues is on par with Kohl and that’s his friend Emily. Near the end of issue 2, Kohl says to Emily, “I do care, she was a friend. I just didn’t like her very much.” And that about sums up the way one feels about Kohl — he’s about a million people I know, but fuck if I can’t stand a full night with them. And there lies the problem with the book. The Superman shirt that Kohl dons to head out to Lady Fest at the beginning is part of his costume – his indie uniform. His alter-ego is this magician who seduces naïve morsels into bed with his penetrating musings, but alter to what exactly? Who is the real David Kohl? Who was he before he was “made” what he is by Britannia? To be redeemed one has to be worth redeeming and after 2 issues, I’m left caring about KWK more than Kohl if only for KWK’s unguardedness. Maybe the point isn’t to redeem Kohl – but then what is the point? Going back to the Constantine comparison for a moment, why do we care about that character? One of the more unlikable ongoing characters in comics, but there’s something that keeps an audience with him and that’s his vulnerability. Sometimes knowing how to hurt someone (aside from the physical) is just as good as knowing how to help someone and in the case of Kohl, I haven’t found either…yet. I think there is hope though. I mainly wish that Gillen had opened up his lead character within the first two issues, made him a bit more accessible like the pop music talked about in all the diatribes. The beauty of a perfect pop song is that even to the uninitiated, it can make them care for those three minutes.

I do have high hopes for the series and many of those hopes come from the excellent supplemental writings contained in the back of each issue. Gillen talks about his purpose and goals for the book in such a way that you can’t not be enthralled by what he’s trying to accomplish. “Most traditional fantasy gives you another world to run and hide from. A modern fantasy allows you to reclaim yours. Reality remixed, expanded, made precious, made you,” he says. And he’s done that with this, no doubt. He’s a skilled wordsmith and knows what he’s going for – I just want to be there emotionally instead of philosophically.

I just wanted to mention a few words on McKelvie’s art. It’s been clean, precise, and I’m not sure there’s an emotion that Jamie can’t effectively bring out from the characters. Much like Pia Guerra’s work on Y: The Last Man, McKelvie can keep dialogues moving and fill them with such nuance that you’re not just seeing snapshots, but physically and honestly moving through a conversation.

Posted under Uncategorized