Jim Soundman is a man in flux. A slightly lecherous, frequently drunk everyrocker, he has little direction in life and gets his kicks trading off the fame of his absent rock star father. You get the impression it’s not a bad life Jim has constructed for himself only it turns out he hasn’t constructed it himself at all; he’s a comicbook character subject to the whims of his creator, someone he is about to get very up close and personal with. Thus begins Road Crew, the tale of a writer trying to make sense of his own life through the prism of a character completely unemcumbered by responsibilty.
Writing oneself into a work is a risky strategy for any creative. When it comes off well (Charlie Kaufman in Adaptation, Martin Amis in Money) it’s a puckish move that adds a layer of finesse to the plot and makes for a more engaging, even intimate, read. When overplayed (Charlie Kauffman in Adaptation, Martin Amis in Money) its a confidence trick to hoodwink the reader into thinking they’re reading something not at all as smart as they think it is. The line is a fine one indeed.
By laying out his stall almost from the first panel Kelly lets the reader know exactly what the rules are. This is his story, his thought experiment, and Jim is his proxy (or ‘sigil’). Where the story goes neither creator nor character have any clue. Thus the stage is set for a virtuoso piece of narrative noodling with the occasional powerchord of fate thrown in for good measure.
The action proper in For Sale #1 takes place at a gallery where an exhibition of groupie polaroids sees Jim meet Morrigan, a girl who knows the value of a casual encounter but also lets on she’s a part of Tommie’s grand plan – not that Jim bothers to notice.
For a first issue, Road Crew sets itself up in a position of strength, establishing a world where consistency may go out the door in favour of experimentation and a few forays into metafiction. Kelly’s art mixes it up nicely, giving Jim enough of a goofy look to remind to everyone who ever wore a black t-shirt and learned to mosh to anything other than emo what it’s like to be young(ish) and dumb. Morrigan is the kind of finely drawn character everyone wants a piece of: a perky girl next door with a dash of sluttiness.
If there can be a criticism of the book it’s the balance between the prologue and the story proper. A 50/50 prologue/action split doesn’t give the main narrative enough time for the main narrative to take hold. A punchier setup could have got the ground rules out of the way in record time to give Jim more of a chance to endear himself to the reader.
Pacing aside, there is enough in this first issue to carry the casual reader to the second to the next at least. Kelly’s tale of magick and loss has the potential to become an anthemic paen to the power of philosophy and rawk. Best read with a beer at your side and the entire Led Zeppelin back catalogue to hand. On vinyl.
$3.99; colour, 24 pages, US. W/A Tommie Kelly www.roadcrewcomic.com
