The idea is one that almost everyone can relate to. There's something about music. That song that you listen to over and over and over, absorbing every word, every beat. Going to the concert, the rhythm of the music, the cheering of the crowd... there's an energy there. A power. Music is magic. That's the essential premise of Phonogram, a comic baptized in the blood of indy music scenes past.

We begin simply with David Kohl. David is a Phonomancer; a wizard who derives his power from music. In this cosmology, genres are something like gods. Clubs are holy temples, lyrics are like spells, and listening to your favorite song is a sacred ritual. The metaphor goes on and on, but you get the picture. David is an acolyte of Britannia, the personification of 90s britpop. He is every 'holier than thou' indy scenester ever, except his encyclopedic knowledge of obscure bands is also a superpower.

So David is kind of a doochebag, but that's okay because as with most protagonists that start out as dooshebags, he's going to have a chance to redeem himself. As the comic opens we learn a bit about David, the nature of Phonomancy, and his personal school of phonomancy: 90's Britpop. As it turns out, Britpop is about 10 years dead. Not the genre (well, not just the genre), but the Avatar of Britpop, a girl named Britannia. Unfortunately somebody is trying to dig up her bones, and this is apparently a bad thing. Messing with cosmic forces bad. David is given the job of finding out who and why, and putting a stop to it. A task that is going to involve digging into his own past, and confronting things he'd rather leave buried.

At the core metaphor, the concept of Phonomancy works, and it works well. Gillen is obviously no stranger to either occultism or indy music, as the comic is dripping with both. As someone who might have once heard an Oasis song many years ago, and from a great distance, 99% of the music references went over my head. Nevertheless, the story was still understandable and enjoyable. Although I may not have appreciated it as deeply as some, I found the story compelling. I imagine getting the references only enhances the effect. For those of you who, like me, don't know the Buzzcocks from Dr. Octagon, there is thankfully a very helpful glossary in the back which references most of the bands, lyrics, and other cultural artifacts referenced.



Writer Kieron Gillien has been around for a while, mostly doing video game journalism. He describes Phonogram as "[his] first real comic", and it shows. There are plenty of places where things could have been tightened up around the edges, but as a work it is solid. The plot moves well, the dialog works, and the story is internally consistent. One could level a complaint about the elitist nature of the story, as David is essentially trying to maintain his memory of Britpop as the objectively correct one. A very scenester move, but one that is forgivable in the context of the Phonomancy metaphor.

Artist Jamie McKelvie is likewise fairly new to the world of comics. Rendered in grey-scale inks, McKelvie's art employs a very smooth, refined style that reflects the indy stylings of the story. It works very well for the realistic, down-to-earth portions of the story. For the magic bits, a bit less so. Events which are meant to come off as fantastic feel just a bit too ordinary. Ultimately it's not a question of skill so much as subject; Jamie is definitely an artist to keep an eye out for.



First released in 2007, the 6 issues of Phonogram are available from Image Comics as a single trade paper back for $15, and a second series is planned to be released in the indeterminate future.

As a side note, I want to see the comic counterpoint to phonomancy: athletimancy. I mean, who hasn't met that guy who spends every night at a sports bar in St. Louis, and knows the final score of every Super-bowl, World Series, and Stanley Cup. He too must be a mighty wizard, right? Right.

Questions? Hate-filled Diatribes? Suggestions for Future Reviews? Send them all to tpanshin@nerdlives.com, or post to the Nerdlives forums.

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Tobiah Panshin was born in the backwoods of Pennsylvania, taught all he knows by the animal companions that raised him. As many fine naturalists will however note, Badgers and Woodchucks are notoriously bad at algebra. His math and science skills doomed from an early age, young Tobiah followed the only path available to him: the Humanities. Today, Liberal Arts degree in hand, he pursues with the dogged determination of a short-tailed shrew the pathetic, poverty bestrewn life of a writer. Armed with the strongest weapons he possesses--the umlaut, the gerund phrase, and the mighty schwa--he battles the English Language in a never-ending struggle for domination.