From the Vaults | Phonogram: Rue Britannia

Imagine, if you will, the London of an alternate world. A world very similar to our own, but for a secret underworld of mystical avatars and magical practitioners, all powered through embracing the nature of music. This is the world of the Phonomancer, where music is magic, where a song can save a life or end it. This is the world of Phonogram. Created in 2006 by writer Kieron Gillen and artist Jamie McKelvie, Phonogram was an six-issue indie title, published through Image Comics, that grew to become a critically-acclaimed and Eagle-nominated mini-series. The following year, Image collected the issues into the trade paperback titled Phonogram: Rue Britannia.

This volume is the tale of Phonomancer David Kohl’s search for his mod-goddess patron, Britannia. This protagonist fair reeks of John Constantine, had Constantine owned the Championship Vinyl record store in High Fidelity. This means that Kohl has the quirky sense of humour and outrageous arrogance of his Hellblazer cousin, but he also has an intense music snobbery. This makes Kohl quite relatable and believable as a character; it’s easy to imagine him as one of the punters sitting in the corner at a gig in a bar, or as “that guy” in your circle of friends.

Kohl’s power is rooted in Britpop music, defined in the book’s fantastic little glossary as the “mid-nineties manufactured guitar pop movement based around [the] explicit rejection of [the] U.S. grunge movement in favour of homegrown influences.” This genre grew out of the British indie scene in the early ’90s and its undeniably working-class music captivated the U.K. charts until its decline later that decade. Like its grunge rival, Britpop still has stalwart fans today, and Kohl is representative of those remaining few. Refusing to reinvent himself, partly due to the fear of possibly losing his identity, Kohl is the final true Britpop Phonomancer. Regularly misusing his gifts to get laid, he angers the mysterious Goddess, who incarnates and curses him with an ironic case of PMS. She tasks him with finding Britannia; one of Her aspects, his maker, and the patron avatar of the Britpop movement. Britannia is being interfered with in some way and this could change the phonomantic world of Britpop, and those who believe in it.

Before writing Phonogram, Gillen was a pop-media journalist and his love of music shines forth in the story. What he has created here is a metaphoric look at the intense fandom of a genre, the philosophies of the Britpop movement itself, and how music affects people. His writing is witty yet profound, and is incredibly intelligent. Gillen easily demonstrates he has a clear insight into people’s enjoyment of music and understands the concepts behind the referenced genre. Every one of his characters is so well written that it’s difficult not to relate to them, even the cameos from the likes of Damon Albarn. They are also so believable, they could walk off the page into real life and fit right into the world.

Right from the get-go, I was taken by McKelvie’s distinctive art. With heavy graphic designer chic mixed with a smear of pop art, the monochrome imagery is clean and exquisite to look at. He steers away from using detail for detail’s sake, rather keeping to a minimalist, sometimes stark, depiction. Using the high-contrast of black and white with some grayscale shading doesn’t leave much room for error, but the clean lines and careful uses of black and gray shading works well for full effect. This style of illustration fits like a glove with the content of the story; I’m not convinced that more “traditional” illustration would have worked as well in its place. McKelvie’s one hell of an artist, even being referred to by Warren Ellis as “one of the major new talents of the decade”.

There is only one real point in which Phonogram may not succeed too well. The creators based the story on a musical movement that is solely British, from a certain period of time. Unless the reader is familiar with the artists and music referenced within, they may struggle to relate to the story. Britpop was one of the genres I listened to heavily at that time, and I had trouble recognising some of the references. The creators have tried to counter this by adding an excellent glossary at the back that does clarify most of the key pop-culture references in a witty fashion. Also, Gillen has handled the story in a way that readers can overlay their own genre fascination, and relate to the content that way.

Phonogram: Rue Britannia is a phenomenally good book from Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie, and I will certainly be looking for the follow-up book (Phonogram: The Singles Club). This was Gillen’s debut long-form book and McKelvie’s second, and although it was a long, intense mission that strained them to their limits, it was very well-received by critics. Sadly though, the sales figures weren’t as high as hoped, and it looks likely the overly narrow margins will prohibit the creators from creating a third volume. This is a title that doesn’t deserve to fade away as it is definitely a must-read; I recommend you give it a try. As Warren Ellis said of it, “Read this or lose.”

Read the full first issue online for free at Image Comics: Phonogram #1

(This review was written with Kenickie and Sleeper as my soundtrack, but definitely not Kula Shaker.)