And I would never dismiss something for being populist! I adore a pop sensibility in comics — it just seems inappropriate for what I thought was the subject: CBGB the punk venue. Now that I know what the real subject is (CBGB the congenial pop culture artifact), the art seems totally fitting.

DeCarlo influence or not, there’s an intimacy and authenticity I instantly grasp from Jaime’s artwork that appears absent from the above examples.

And I apologize if I seemed too contentious — this has been a valuable conversation for me. Would that this kind of parley followed all TCJ reviews!

Kieron Gillen’s story is the first one in the anthology and so sets the tone for what’s to come – it is anything but a hagiography. He openly chastises one of the characters for attempting a characterisation of the place as some kind of punk/new-wave ground-zero. Like I said, the better stories all do this – and, sure, not of all of them take this approach (and those are the pieces I summarily dismissed). But, you know what? It WAS important – try denying the influence of Television, Talking Heads, Blondie, The Ramones, et al – what’s wrong with looking back at the cultural milieu that they emerged from?

I think you want this to be your own platonic ideal of a punk anthology – and it’s not, nor did it ever set out to be. You don’t like the art – fine – but don’t try to dismiss it as populist. What are criteria are you even using to judge the art that way? Were the creators trying to ape the styles of “hot” mainstream artists like Adam Hughes or JG Jones (or even indie artists like Templesmith and O’Malley) I could understand, but I just don’t see that at all. Also consider that Jaime’s Love and Rockets of the 80s is one of the most punk things in comics – and looks like it could have come from an Archie book – you don’t much more populist than that.

“The comics exist in order to look back at what the venue meant, why it’s become such a sacred cow, but also to avoid sentimentality.” I find it hard to believe that this anthology is looking at CB’s history with a critical gaze, given that CBGB is a brand, and a partner in putting out this comic. And the examples given were so sentimental it borders on the hagiographic.

Hey, I think my criticism of the art stands! I leafed through some more samples online, and it all seems to be this this typical mass-market detritus for the pop consumer. Although I suppose a BOOM! Studios release would have to be instantly and blatantly marketable.

But the art styles make sense if we agree to drop the punk facade (an image that CB themselves espouse in reference to this book) and accept this book for what it seems to be: a cash-grabbing veneration of a pop culture caricature.

Whoops! Maybe I should actually read the anthology before I continue ~*~arguing about it on the internet~*~.
And cool, thanks for the book recommendations!

PS: (I just didn’t care for the first issue of The Invisibles, and that was a fault of its art more than anything else. I still like the series on principle!)

I also think you’re being a bit harsh on a book you’ll never read. CB’s is gone and music will move on – that’s the message I got from the anthology. The comics exist in order to look back at what the venue meant, why it’s become such a sacred cow, but also to avoid sentimentality. For the most part the writers and artists here are trading on their own experiences – they know exactly what “CBGB” means to music and avoid the empty signifier of kids wearing CBGB t-shirts in an attempt to channel some nebulous idea of what “punk” is.

I think, perhaps, that’s what you’re doing in your assessment of the comics. You have your preconceived notion that CBGB’s is punk and so the comics should reflect your idea of that genre (hence your criticism of the art, which completely misses the mark). In fact, the venue was integral to far more genres than that, and bridged the gap between the punk of the 70s and the hardcore punk of today (all of which is reflected in the anthology). If anything, it cuts through the commodification of CB’s and reclaims its significance. Nowhere does it claim that it was the be-all-and-end-all of punk (or any other genre) and it celebrates the fact it’s now gone and we can avoid sanctifying it.

I also don’t think that presenting a historical look at a defunct venue denies the vitality or ability to innovate of new music. Had CBGB still been a going concern, I could have criticised a mawkish, rose-tinted view of the past – but it’s not, so I didn’t. There are plenty of other comics and anthologies that fulfill your desired remit quite nicely: Side B, This is Not a Souvenir, Jim Mahfood’s work, How Loathsome and the aforementioned Phonogram. Likewise there are many other venues that are becoming hubs for emerging musical scenes.

Except Jaime’s, of course — that dude’s work always seems effortless, even at its most deliberate.

This anthology, as you’ve explained it, leaves me a little exasperated. I can’t stand these sorts of superficial, commodified punk icons. I understand that, at the time, conspicuity was a necessary part of the nascent punk ideology — but the way that this image has been diluted, corrupted over the decades by layers of artificial imitation, leaves CBGB and its ilk an outdated, hollow signifier, posing just as much cultural virulence as the mall punk that you denounce.

I agree that we ought not “continue to scrape the barrel of 40 years ago,” so why is this anthology content to revel in its antiquated portrayal of “punk rock” without any relevance to the state of punk today? At heart, punk is meant to be a social and cultural imperative, right? So why would should it be frozen in time, cut off from the modern era and celebrated within an ancient vacuum?

Sorry, but this is bumming me out!

PS: Gavin, I also recall reading Phonogram upon your recommendation and it remains one of the least enjoyable comics I have ever subjected myself to (though here the alienation is likely as much geographical as it is temporal).