KEEP THAT SMILE ON YOUR PRETTY FACE

So, then. Just what is a Golden Age, anyway?

Ninth Art got a fair amount of stick for the last Triple A article, in which we found it difficult to agree that we are, as Neil Gaiman would have had us believe at this year's Eisner Awards, on the cusp of a new "Golden Age" of comics.

The objections seemed mostly to follow the non-reasoning that if you express even the slightest disappointment with the state of the medium, you shouldn't be allowed to comment on it. But perhaps people were just confusing the terms "available" and "currently being produced". After all, if the former were the only criteria for a Golden Age, we've been living in movie heaven for the last fifty years or more. Never mind that the majority of current movie output is asinine, lowest-common-denominator fodder.

Anyway. Triple A is an edited version of the transcript to each discussion (partly for space, partly for coherence, and partly so that Andrew can give himself all the best one-liners). And while the onus is on each of us to make our points as succinctly as possible, sometimes the best way of illustrating your point doesn't come to mind until after the tape machine's been switched off. So I thought I'd take the opportunity to elaborate on a few of my remarks, if only to assuage the disparaging comments from Confused of Tunbridge Wells...

First, when I said there weren't enough people reading the more diverse output of today's medium, I'm not just talking about pure sales numbers. No, of course sales numbers alone don't mean anything with regard to a Golden Age. But the problem with these sales numbers is that they indicate a lack of availability, and that's where I start getting depressed.

'I think widespread innovation is unlikely to be initiated by large publishers.' A few years ago, it was commonly touted that 90% of comic sales by the non-Big Four publshers were made through just 10% of the stores in the US. I'm absolutely positive that number's changed for the better since then, but not on a scale that would rock the earth; I'd say it's now more like 80/20. Which is a great improvement, but it still means around 80% of the (American) comics audience isn't even exposed to more than a handful of non-mainstream books.

It's a bit of a Catch-22 situation, this one, and always has been. Until lots of people are seen to be reading a title, retailers (who, remember, order on non-returnable terms) are naturally more hesitant to order the book than they are when it comes to that month's copies of BATMAN or X-MEN. For many extant retailers, this hesitation translates into no orders at all; and if there are no copies in the store where you shop, you're by definition not going to pick up that book on impulse.

Conversely, if the retailer is certain that book's never going to be bought on impulse, it's money down the drain. And no-one would suggest that's any way to run a business.

I don't have an easy answer to this one, and in truth I doubt anyone does. But until we see a majority of comic stores stocking a near-as-dammit "full line" of available books, you can't tell me we're in a Golden Age.

Second, of course I wasn't suggesting that one sole publisher will change the industry and launch us into a new age of comics bliss, as some readers inferred from my example of Fantagraphics as a medium-sized publisher whose first concern isn't the bottom line. It was, indeed, just an example. But I'll reiterate; I think widespread innovation and experimentation is very unlikely to be initiated by large publishers.

Not impossible; the last time we had an insurgence of widespread positive change and diversification in the American industry was the mid-to-late '80s, or "When Comics Grew Up" as it's generally credited. What's ironic about that period is that the creative touchstones people now take for granted from that era were almost entirely published by DC - WATCHMEN, THE DARK KNIGHT RETURNS, CAMELOT 3000, HELLBLAZER, SWAMP THING - a company which is of course very firmly The Establishment.

'Until most stores stock a nearly full line, you can't tell me we're in a Golden Age.' It's also not to say innovation is never present in the Big Four; DC now relies on its several imprints to slip some excellent books under the radar; Image Central continues to quietly pump out as diverse an output as it can manage; Dark Horse followed the imprint route with its Maverick line; and Marvel keeps throwing ideas at the wall to see how many stick.

But within the scope of the companies, these are small and occasional breakouts, of only minor significance compared to their bread and butter of mainstream cape books (licensed books, in the case of Dark Horse) which sell in high enough numbers to support the companies.

And while that "bread and butter" undoubtedly supports and subsidises the more innovative works, it also prevents those companies from shifting their business focus rapidly - something the smaller publishers are quite capable of doing. Sure, they have less money to take risks, but they also need far less return to deem something a success. And when they strike big, a la Tokyopop, they strike very big indeed - enough to make everyone else sit up and notice.

Finally, let me clarify the comment I made about genre works. After the aforementioned rise of "grown-up comics" in the '80s, it all went very wrong indeed, and we ended up in a worse state than we'd started... It's a story that most of us can recite from memory. Comics had lost its respectability, and the trust of many people visiting the medium for the first time.

'Comics is afraid of saying anything that would give the world an excuse to turn it down.' And what I think creators and publishers are now doing (whether consciously or not) is trying to earn back that trust, that respectability. Not by focusing on boundary-breaking, envelope-pushing works of genius (which never really went away, but by the same token the world at large has never really cared about them) but on solid, commercial genre works.

If comics is the shy young boy with a crush on the mass market, right now we're just trying to remember how to speak to the object of our affections without stammering and make sure our shoelaces are tied properly. Or perhaps we've got that down pat, and have moved onto casual smalltalk - but it's still going to take a lot more trust-building before we ask it to a late night movie, and maybe a quick grope in the bus shelter afterwards...

Comics is afraid, perhaps justly, of saying anything that would give the outside world an "excuse" to turn us down, and send us back to the long, dark winter of 1993 all over again.

And so we're producing dependable, accessible, solid (there's that word again) genre books. We're trying to say, "Hey, look at us. We can do crime, too! And slice of life! And quirky sci-fi! See? We're just like movies, and TV, and books, and all the other things you enjoy!" In the hope that if we do it for long enough, and can produce enough books that new readers won't think the one good book they read was a fluke, then we can start taking a few risks. We can start pushing that envelope, and stretching those boundaries, and [insert your metaphor here].

Then - so long as they're available for everyone to buy, natch - then we might be in a Golden Age.

Of course, the funny thing about Golden Ages is that you never know you're in one until it's passed...

BUT EVERYBODY SAYS THIS PLACE IS BEAUTIFUL

On my way back from a holiday Up North, I popped into Nottingham's Page 45 for a look-see. Page 45 is one of "those" stores, like Comic Relief or Jim Hanley's Universe in the USA, that everyone tells you about in a manner bordering on the evangelical; a store that you hear so much about, you start to think it can't possibly be all it's cracked up to be. Such trepidation isn't helped when you invited the owner to write a Guest Editorial not so long ago.

Well, seems it's my turn; everything Stephen wrote in that column about Page 45 is true. It really does look like a bookstore, but filled with comics, and the range of customers I saw in just the short time I spent there was pretty amazing (especially the guy pushing a double-width baby pushchair around with ease - you'd barely get it through the front door in most UK stores, let alone be able to browse). Books are racked by genre, author and content, not publisher; the decor is understated, with original artwork taking precedence over promotional posters; and the whole layout encourages comfortable, hassle-free browsing.

If you live in the Midlands, go give Page 45 a look. You won't have seen a UK store like it.

THREE O'CLOCK AND THE MOANING

When I first heard Kings Of Leon performing live on Later With Jools Holland earlier this year - all bluesy tunes, laconic attitude and extreme hirsuteness - I was immediately put in mind of Lynyrd Skynyrd. (This is not a bad thing. I like Lynyrd Skynyrd.)

But listening to their cleverly-titled debut album YOUTH AND YOUNG MANHOOD, a lot of other influences are apparent. Tom Petty... Led Zeppelin... Early R.E.M... The Velvet Underground... Bad Company... Hell, even recent stuff like The Strokes and White Stripes.

It's stripped-down to the point that I could almost believe each track was recorded live in one take, and the whole thing is embarrassingly catchy. Of all the "back to rock'n'roll" bands that have emerged recently, I can see Kings Of Leon still being around in five years' time.

Rock on.

Antony Johnston is the author of JULIUS, SPOOKED and THE LONG HAUL. His new ongoing series WASTELAND begins in July 2006.

This article is Ideological Freeware. The author grants permission for its reproduction and redistribution by private individuals on condition that the author and source of the article are clearly shown, no charge is made, and the whole article is reproduced intact, including this notice.