Music To My Eyes

From the rapper dressed as Dr Doom to the comic that documented the grunge movement, DJ Alex Kennedy explores the ways in which comics and music can influence each other, and asks if the relationship could go further.
08 September 2003

It seems to me that the more comics are disseminated into our day-to-day lives (The AMERICAN SPLENDOR movie is about to hit theatres, for example), the more comics begin to reflect our world and our tastes.

It wasn't so long ago that most comics didn't draw very much at all on current trends or movements. They were isolated and segregated. But lately, things have changed significantly. Creators seem interested in putting even the smallest details onto the page, maybe in an attempt to throw their fictions into sharp relief. So it's been with real pleasure that I've noticed more and more comics referencing music. And not just pop music - a whole gamut of references, from jazz and weird electronic experimentalism to straight up punk rock and hip-hop, seem to be making their way into books from every publisher. Oddly enough it never occurred to me until recently how separated comics and music are. They can be consumed at the same time, but very rarely do they become a connected whole.

A comics page is consumed intuitively. You look at it, and can generally get the gist of it in a way not possible in prose, even illustrated prose. Things are much the same with music; you hear it and you understand what it is, regardless of whether the form it takes is to your liking. Although separated by the inherent division of visual and audio arts, they're part of a shared culture, one which gives them plenty of common ground. Like all art consumed on a mass scale, they become part of a shared experience, our popular culture. It's a sort of roundabout connection; by influencing creators on both sides the mediums can relate and even intertwine.

Sure, making a comic based on a specific song has been done, so has writing a soundtrack for a comic. But the interaction is usually more subtle. From referencing popular songs to establish setting to bands using superheroes as lyrical metaphors, the connection has been established and seems to be getting more pronounced.

In the grand scheme of things to draw influence from, comics probably rank fairly low for most musicians. But more than a few have drawn on four-colour mythology as a muse. Just look at Five For Fighting's soppy 'Superman (It's Not Easy)', a song that uses the venerable character to counterpoint the songwriter's shortcomings. Rappers, whose whole milieu has been traditionally based in metaphor, seem particularly drawn to superheroes. The Sugarhill Gang's mega-hit 'Rapper's Delight' included a verse where MC Big Bank Hank disses the Man of Steel and claims to have romanced Lois Lane. California's underground rap icon Del Tha Funkee Homosapien has dropped innumerable rhymes involving (amongst others) Kitty Pride, Spider-Man and the West Coast Avengers. And possibly most bizarre, MC MF Doom has taken the classic Dr Doom metal mask for his stage persona, complete with green hood and gauntlets.

There have been whole websites dedicated to tracking musical references like these, lists including such musical luminaries as the Kinks, Frank Zappa and Black Sabbath. And the cape-and-cowl crowd aren't the only ones to get mention. Eminent sample rockers Pop Will Eat Itself name-dropped V FOR VENDETTA in their 1989 tribute to pop culture CAN U DIG IT?, a song whose chorus loudly declared that "Alan Moore knows the score". And former members of goth rock legends Bauhaus were such fans of Los Bros Hernandez's work that they named their new band Love And Rockets.

Sure, a casual reference isn't likely to raise the profile of the comics scene in any quantifiable way. But since comics are in most cases (with a couple of notable big-franchise exceptions) fairly low profile anyway, it's generally a reference made because of some genuine appreciation for the art form or a specific creator. It's not unlike a penciller throwing a poster for his favourite band in the background of a panel, or a writer quoting lyrics to establish mood or theme (witness James O'Barr's endless Joy Division fascination in THE CROW, or Ted McKeever's use of Shriekback in METROPOL).

Since the seventies, comics have gradually become more connected with youth culture. In the past the writers were mostly older men, guessing what youngsters would be thrilled and excited by. But slowly the median age between creator and fan has become closer, and creators no longer have to guess what the kids are into - in essence, they themselves are the kids.

Indie comics were of course at the vanguard of these changes, dating all the way back to the sixties. The San Francisco comics scene made famous by the likes of Robert Crumb was almost inseparable from the city's notorious psychedelic acid rock scene. Never mind that many of the creators didn't like the music; they were just part of an overall movement, a largely youth-based one that integrated any number of diversions and pastimes into one burgeoning subculture.

The same situation has been mirrored in more recent works, like Peter Bagge's HATE. This cynical take on the Seattle "grunge" scene of the early nineties seemed fairly contemptuous of its subjects, but became one of the quintessential documents of the era. Bagge seeded his work with references to bands and fads unique to the time and place they were set in, and HATE became a symbol for the same kind of youthful pessimism he so looked down on.

These kinds of real integration are still a long way off for most mainstream comics, but more than a few auteurs have used music references to a number of different ends. Grant Morrison's THE INVISIBLES was a labyrinth of pop culture, to the point where it's almost impossible to document all the subtle and direct mentions of music and lyrics (at a glance The Kinks, The Human League and Kula Shaker all stand out). Craig Thompson's amazing new graphic novel BLANKETS uses both the lyrics and imagery of the music of his teenage years to draw a sentimental and affecting self-portrait.

Of course, no discussion of the crossover between music and comics could ever be complete without a mention of Matt Howarth's SAVAGE HENRY. Not content to merely make his character an interdimensional rock star, Howarth soon started writing his favourite bands and performers into the stories directly. Experimental music legends The Residents were mainstays in the book, accompanied by such other notables as Nash the Slash, Wire and even Hawkwind. (Interestingly, the Residents once had a release that was intended to be read as a comic and listened to as an album, the literally-titled FREAK SHOW).

One would think that with all this music being referenced up and down that the appeal of comics would naturally come across to new readers with similar tastes. A book like BLUE MONDAY (taking its name from the New Order song) seems like a shoe-in, and there are more than a few other books on the stands that trade on some kind of sub-cultural connection. Notably, the current glut of so-called "goth" comics seem the most adept at aiming themselves specifically at an audience with given tastes - in clothes, attitude and especially music. JOHNNY THE HOMICIDAL MANIAC has drawn many darkly attired figures into their local comics retailer.

The shame is that, despite any number of other books that might appeal to a given sensibility, not many ever seek anything out beyond the obvious. The problem with being drawn in by a specific title is that it won't necessarily lead to any overall appreciation for the medium. On a few different occasions I've had conversations with people that start, "I love comics!" But eventually they lead to the sad revelation that other than SANDMAN and LENORE, they just aren't interested in anything else available to them. Although a huge JOHNNY fan might look for other works by Jhonen Vasquez, he or she may never know of HOPELESS SAVAGES or Jim Mahfood's GRRL SCOUTS, both books with potentially huge audiences among music obsessed youths. Smart retailers would do well to connect these books as much as possible on the racks, with the hope of leading casual readers to the proverbial drinking hole.

After all, seeing a character wearing a T-shirt of your favourite band can be enough of a hook - just enough to pick something a little different up. But after that, it's up to the individual books to be as scintillating and fascinating as possible. Fingers crossed.

Alex Kennedy is a Halifax-based DJ.

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