Note : Phonogram : The Singles Club is released on Wednesday 10th December

Has it really been two years since David Kohl first strolled onto the page with that Superman t-shirt and shit-eating grin? A lot’s happened in that time, most notably Gillen and McKelvie ascending to become the key controllers of the X-franchise, or something. But it’s finally time for a return to the series that made their name, in the shape of Phonogram : The Singles Club.

Right from the word go, it’s a different beast. It’s in colour, for one thing, although of course seeing McKelvie’s work coloured is hardly the massive culture shock it might have been a year or so ago. The pair have sought, meanwhile, to give the reader more than a simple 22-pages-of-story format for their however-many-dollars-comics-cost-this-week, and so instead we’re treated to sixteen pages of “main” story, the obligatory few pages of text that may have very little significant purpose (especially compared to Rue Britannia’s essays) but which are still the most entertaining journalism you’ll read outside of a Charlie Brooker column, and not one but two backup strips, entirely unconnected to the main story and with rotating guest artists.

As far as the main story goes, it’s simultaneously more accessible and yet perhaps less gripping than the first issue of volume one. A relatively self-contained story on the surface, it’s less reliant on knowledge of the background and references than Rue Britannia (and while I’m sure it was perfectly possible to enjoy that series without any knowledge of Britpop, I find it hard to believe that any such reader would have got quite so immersed in it), and is a more straightforward and less allusive tale. Perhaps that’s down to the very nature of Singles Club as a series – the seven parts of the story are sliced in a way completely lateral to the usual sequential progression of narrative, and so instead what we’re getting here is chronologically the entire evening, but told from a single point of view; and I suspect that Penny’s story will be illuminated further once we’ve had a chance to see things from a different perspective. It’s an exercise in world building, rather than – for the moment at least – telling a particularly compelling story.

And indeed, it’s in the rich expansion of Phonogram’s world that this issue satisfies the most. Character and dialogue have always been Gillen’s real strength, and already he’s filling out the series with new faces to match the likes of Kohl, Kid-with-Knife, Aster and Indie Dave. The obvious standouts here are the pairing of Seth Bingo and the Silent Girl, who (one suspects, though Gillen delights in proving us wrong) will probably never actually get their own distinct portion of the tale, but instead look like serving as its Greek chorus. Bingo is a marvellous creation, entirely convinced of his own righteous brilliance, sneering at all who dare to disagree with him. He’s downright objectionable in his treatment of poor Penny – but his rant is no less brilliant (even if it’s one of those times when we must be careful not to assume that the opinion of a character reflects that of a writer) and indeed is pretty much the issue’s high point. We hate him, of course, but we thoroughly enjoy doing so.

There are intriguing foundations laid for future issues, too, and I look forward to finding out more about Laura, Penny’s cohort. Ostensibly the “cooler” of the two, there’s something instantly dislikeable about her – while Penny is undoubtedly more than a bit silly and dumb, there’s at least a sincere honesty and sweetness behind her, while Laura’s oh-so-deliberate cynicism and forced attempt to live vicariously through the Long Blondes is all too familiar and grating – but it doesn’t stop me wanting to know what her story is. With Penny, though, I have to admit to wondering precisely what the point of her story was – on the surface it seems to summarise as “dancing phonomancer gets treated like shit for reasons she can’t understand, but then dances anyway” – and whether it’ll become illuminated by future issues. Those, I suppose, are questions for the end of the series – for the moment, it’s an enjoyable if fairly lightweight vignette.

Visually, of course, it’s an absolute delight – McKelvie continues to grow and grow as a storyteller, and here his range of character expression is put to arguably its sternest test (the whole series being, essentially, people standing and sitting around talking in a club), and passes with flying colours. If I’m honest, it felt at times in volume one like he wasn’t doing quite enough to differentiate certain characters, particularly female ones – but it’s not a problem he has here. Laura practices icy detachment, Penny bursts with unconcealed glee (although the single-page transformation of expression when she’s turned down by Marc is brilliantly handled) and Seth with pure unadulterated rage, while there’s a seemingly deliberate facelessness to Marc and Lloyd. And while he may still be a touch sparing in his use of background, his level of attention to detail in capturing an authentic look and feel of trendy youngsters out clubbing is top notch. It’s a far more confident visual work than Rue Britannia, with an excellent colouring job that particularly excels when emphasising the “glow” of both the music and the magic.

Given that backup strips can often by their very nature feel like afterthoughts, meanwhile, it’s surprising that the ones here contain some of the best material in the issue as a whole. The first, “She Who Bleeds For Your Entertainment”, feels more like a continuation of the mood and theme of Rue Britannia than anything in the main story – Lauren McCubbin does an effective job of replicating the feel of McKelvie’s work on issue three while still giving a unique style to her interpretation of the Goddess. It’s less a story than it is a thematic musing, but it’s a strong one, as Gillen vents some pent-up anti-misogynist anger. The other strip, “Murder on the Dancefloor”, couldn’t be more different, and is a terrific example of Gillen’s ability to tailor his writing to a particular artist – here, the ever-excellent “gag strip” nature of Marc Ellerby’s work. It’s a simple, throwaway two-pager about Seth Bingo and the Silent Girl DJing a wedding, with a simple and clean resolution – but I defy you not to have a big grin on your face at the end. Of particular note is Ellerby’s portrayal of the Silent Girl, turning her into a Gromit-esque source of mute deadpan brilliance by virtue of a few glances, a single bit of pointing and the ever-reliable device of copy-and-pasted expressions.

While it’s ostensibly a more open and accessible issue than the first part of Rue Britannia, I do wonder if “Pull Shapes” is going to do a huge amount to immediately win over the unconverted. It’s a superbly crafted comic – not just in terms of the writing and art on the main story, but as an overall package it shows more devotion and thought than just about any other comic you’ll see – but while existing fans can see it as an engrossing expansion of a world we’re already engaged with, for the uninitiated it might feel like little more than an appetiser. To this I can only say, if past form is anything to go by : it’s going to be worth sticking with. There’s as much wit and imagination in a Gillen/McKelvie collaboration as you’ll find in present day comics, and for that alone they demand to be read. You might argue that it’s limited as a comic by only appealing to those interested in music – but come on, when did the opinion of people not interested in music matter, anyway?

Over the last few years, Jim Mahfood’s style has been constantly evolving in the direction of looser, more expressive layouts and composition in stark contrast to his earlier, comparatively tight work. This development has culminated with Mahfood’s first stand-alone comic release in some time - a 2-issue miniseries called Kick Drum Comix.

Even before you’ve opened the pages, you can tell there’s something special to the arist about this project. Mahfood has chosen to package the book in a glossy, oversized issue costing the above-average sum of $5.99. The quality of the art and printing is incredibly high, and since this is a rare full-colour release from Mahfood, it feels like extra care has been taken to ensure the book looks as good as it can.

Inside, Mahfood offers two all-new short stories. The first is an anarchic look at the life of a fictional musician called “Death of the Popmaster” which exames the events leading to his death. Reflecting the world as depicted, the art is grimy and messy, but each page, expertly coloured by Justin Stewart, looks like an amazing piece of artwork in its own right. On the down side, the lettering suffers a little under this freer style, occasionally becoming hard to read. My only criticism of the story is that it feels a little oddly bleak coming from Mahfood. Where usually, his near-dystopian depiction of America’s celebrity-soaked culture comes from a satirical perspective, this one seems to almost revel in the excessive and hollow culture depicted. It makes for some cool visuals, but uplifting it is not.

Luckily, for feel-good fans, the second story in the issue, Coltrane’s Reed, is a bit more optimistic, featuring the kind of slice-of-life Gen-Y culture Mahfood so expertly captures, as a skater evaluates his ambitions following an encounter with “Coltrane’s Reed.” For this short, the art has been substantially reined in, showcasing the more restrained, (and, to be honest, more legible) side of Mahfood’s storytelling. It doesn’t look quite as good as the last story, but what it sacrifices in visuals, it gains in storytelling making for a more satisfying read.

Kick Drum Comix isn’t quite the “return to form” I was hoping for from Mahfood, after finding his last few releases a little rushed and uneven, but it does show that Jim Mahfood, the nuanced and emotive storyteller does still exist beneath Mahfood, the poweful artist. While his changing style leaves me somewhat nostalgic for the early days of “Clerks” and “Grrl Scouts”, it’s undeniable that he’s an individual voice in comics and a supremely talented illustrator. I’m not sure how I’d feel about Kick Drum Comix if I hadn’t followed his career since virtually day one, but as long as he’s releasing work, I’ll be happy to buy it, if only to see where he takes himself next. Kick Drum Comix #2 is out next month.

Late last year I had the great pleasure of meeting Jim Mahfood when he did a signing at Forbidden Planet, London. Fantastic chap, very friendly, and genuinely grateful of the enthusiasm people had in his artwork even if we were all greasy-looking nerd types. I’ll buy anything with his name on, because he’s just that good.

Which, to be honest, makes this review a little hard to write.

The thing is, when Stupid Comics started, however many years ago, it was occasionally political, occasionally comedic, occasionally autobiographical. Mahfood played with the boundaries of what he was given. Sometimes you’d get one picture and a veritable essay’s worth of text. other times, you’d got 30 wordless thumbnails crammed onto a page. Stupid Comics was so good that even when they released a collection that was about 25% new material available nowhere else, I was willing (if not happy) to pay £10 just to get what was around one comic’s worth of new material.

Mahfood’s latest release in the Stupid Comics line is this: Stupid Comics: Phoenix Edition - 96 pages of newly-reprinted Stupid Comics taken from the local paper, based in Phoenix, Arizona, that currently housing Stupid Comics: the Phoenix New Times. I was looking forward to it.

And here’s the “but”.

Even though, as the blurb says, you don’t have to be from Phoenix to get the universal politics discussed within it… it would damn sure help. The problem, whether it’s just because that’s what Mahfood’s currently interested in, or because that’s what the publication wants, is that the book contains absolutely nothing but (usually Phoenix-based) political commentary. Strip after strip of it - and if I’m being honest, the politics and satire are often a tad shallow and usually involve two stereotypes screaming opinions at one another - it stops well short of mocking Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan, but it’s got still got some really easy shots in it. Set against the considered, deep and nuanced politics of DMZ, it verges on embarrasing. I can identify with his left-wing liberal slant, but it feels less like he’s got his own insight and more like he’s just giving the lefties what they want to read.

Mahfood’s diversity is one of his strengths - with this, I feel I’ve paid to see Mozart perform and he spent 2 hours repeatedly hitting a single note on a piano. It’s still a genius at work, but you couldn’t help be a little disappointed at the results. Admittedly, if you were reading one of these a week, they’d probably be a welcome distraction, but as a collection it’s a little wearing. There are a few times when glimpses of the Mahfood style I love come to the forefront, but they’re few and far between.

I’m almost sorry to say that I was disappointed. I won’t let it sour me to Mahfood’s talent, nor will it even make me think twice next time he’s got a comic or artbook out. I will, however, lower my expectations of what a Stupid Comics collection is going to look like, and hope that his next release is more along the lines of his fantastic 40oz Collected minicomics compilation. There’s a Mahfood book that’s genuinely worth its weight in gold.

After a third issue stuffed with exposition and plot, the pressure was on writer-artist Jamie McKelvie to satisfactorily wrap up the myriad threads in his first solo mini (though in calling it that, let us not forget Matt Wilson’s invaluable contribution of his colours.) It would’ve been a difficult task even for a more experienced writer to bring everything to a believable conclusion, so it’s pleasing to see the promise of the early issues realised as McKelvie does indeed manage to pull it off.

Since it’s a comic, you can be forgiven for expecting the last issue to contain a big fight scene - and, since it’s a comic, it dutifully does, allowing McKelvie to silence forever any critics still claiming his work lacks dynamism. When one of Morgana’s goons finds themself on the receiving end of some old-fashioned guitar-smashing action, you can really feel it. Astrid manages to prevent the fight from going too far, and dispatches the battling factions, before reconciling with Dave and returning to a normal life - more or less. She’s now got access to her Fae powers, which includes a rather trandy-looking set of magical wings.

In the opening pages, it became clear to me that I’d actually been judging Suburban Glamour on slightly incorrect terms. Rather than looking for the origins of a mystical, Buffyesque super-heroine, I should’ve seen it as the modern fairytale that, with this issue, it plainly becomes - a magical coming-of-age. In meeting her “real” family, Astrid quickly realises that the grass isn’t actually greener on the other side of the fence, and accepts her small-town lifestyle for what it is as Suburban Glamour’s promised allegory makes a full return.

Certain threads of the plot do feel a little truncated - the Fae disappear as quickly as they appeared, putting up little fight when Astrid gets angry at them, though the intention to follow up those characters in future Suburban Glamour tales is clear. Instead, Astrid’s character arc is the focus of the first mini, and the seeds of any ongoing plot-arcs are only being sown in this issue. SG #4 completes a miniseries in the best way possible - wrapping up one story while preparing for the next.

And, until the next story arrives, remember that you can amuse yourself with the Suburban Glamour Soundtrack, made up of bands mentioned in or which inspired the title. Almost entirely guaranteed to get you down with the kids. Almost.

Okay, usual disclaimer time – you know that James and I are both fans of Jamie McKelvie’s work and friendly with the man himself. But aside from getting in digs at Jeph Loeb at every available opportunity, we consider ourselves to be editorially neutral – and this works both ways. So, just as we wouldn’t hold back from giving Jamie a bad review if the book warranted it, neither should we feel like we have to stop ourselves writing about his work while it continues to be so great.

 And Suburban Glamour is, indeed, a great comic. It hasn’t clicked with everyone, and I’d put that down, at least in part, to its type of characters – much like those in Phonogram – having a quite specific appeal. But look beyond the superficial setting of “gorgeous hipster teenagers in faceless Midlands town”, and there’s a pretty universal theme on show. In fact, for all the talk comparing this series to Buffy The Vampire Slayer, you can actually look back even further to the classic childhood wish of being told that your parents aren’t your real parents, and you’re instead the heir to a fantastical world. There’s just more swearing here. And cooler clothes. And this is the point – McKelvie would be the first to admit that the fantasy elements are hardly original (he wears his influences on his sleeve, Neil Gaiman chief among them), but he’s telling them in a way that is completely here-and-now, and the sheer hipness of the whole thing is practically aspirational. Thus, while the sort of person who’d (stereotypically, at least) normally read a story about faeries probably can’t engage with the characters, the style of storytelling opens up the genre to an entirely new strata of potential readers. To batter a laboured point - consider what Scott Pilgrim does with the romance genre, and you’ll see what I mean.

If there’s been a problem with the series so far, then it’s probably the pacing. Issue three feels like a great halfway point – but less good as a penultimate chapter. I’ve had to keep reminding myself that it’s only a four-parter, as there are seemingly too many layers of mystery still to be unpicked – and, most probably, a lot of plot to get through in the final issue. At times, such as with the brilliant, Edgar Wright-ish montage from issue one, it’s been quickfire – but more often than not, the book has dealt in silent, longer and more ponderous moments; fine in and of themselves, but they don’t really seem suited to a series of this brevity.

That said, it’s one of the latter types of scene that here provides what is probably, as far as I’m concerned, the highlight of McKelvie’s artistic career so far – two panels on a page, the first a beautiful close-up of Astrid that demonstrates his Steve Dillon-esque knack for facial expressions, the second a stunning view of the landscape of… er… Lanbern… which probably took him about three weeks to draw. There’s also something which might count as the first proper “action” moment I’ve seen from him – and an entertaining use of the panels surrounding the action seeming to rattle around it in the manner of an old Incredible Hulk cover.

Suburban Glamour may not have the jaw-droppingly-unmissable nature of Phonogram, and it may feel firmly like a fledgling writer just starting to find their voice. But it’s sharp, funny – and easily the most beautiful-looking comic this side of Frank Quitely.

When McKelvie’s not getting namechecked by the Duloks and racking up endorsements from Warren Ellis, he’s still plugging away at the thing everyone’s raving about in the first place: his comics. Suburban Glamour #2 hit shelves this week, marking the half-way point of his first writer/artist turn. If you’re not up to date on the (sold out!) Issue #1, then at least read the NTS review of it here and see what you’re missing, before continuing with the following entry.

This issue resolves the previous cliffhanger with a “mystery” rescuer, though luckily it’s not strung out because there’s nothing worse than a mystery being laboured when the audience knows the answer and the characters don’t. It then follows up with the most Buffy-esque sequence to date, featuring a pre-beard Kieron Gillen guesting as a school guidance counsellor, and christ knows there are forces in the world that would want to prevent THAT from happening. The school-based material, in fact, brings to the front the kind of themes McKelvie has suggested would be present in Suburban Glamour, but were largely under the surface in the first issue - the idea of being lost for direction when you’re only getting the kind of options you’d rather turn down. All it needed was for someone to suggest Astrid considered an HND or Modern Apprenticeship.

From there’s it becomes time for a trip into Sandman territory for the remainder of the issue. Only recently I was ragging on Vertigo’s tendency to put out Sandman-lite nonsense, so I should definitely qualify this by saying that the comparisons here are fairly superficial. McKelvie has put enough of his own spin on it that it’s not just a retread. There’s always a danger in using this kind of concept that people are going to look at it and go “Gaiman did it better” and, well, of course he did, he’s Neil Gaiman. On the other hand - Gaiman never wrote anything this hip.

Anyone complaining that the first issue was too slow should be satisfied by this one, which throws some serious twists at the reader. If the first issue was all about establishing the characters, this issue is all about setting up the plot. Just when I thought I had Suburban Glamour figured out (and I consider myself a fairly jaded and sceptical audience) it turns out I didn’t guess the half of it. McKelvie has proven himself as an artist over and over, and now he’s proving he can spin a decent yarn as well. Like a proverbial Icarus, he’s flying daringly close to greats like Whedon and Gaiman, but so far the wings haven’t come off yet. Roll on Issue #3.