I’ve spoken in the past about the upsides of reviewing books from creators that I’ve interviewed beforehand. It’s a really great way to understand a book deeply and intimately and then revisit it with all of this otherwise inaccessible context and insight. But that knife can cut both ways, it seems, and just as regularly a book can be found wanting or lackluster following my little chats.
But after speaking with Rick Quinn and Dave Chisholm, and coming back with my critic’s glasses on, I see that Spectrum more than lives up to the compelling words of its creators.
@davechisholmcomics SPECTRUM issue 1 of 6 November 2024 Words by Rick Quinn Pictures by Dave Chisholm Published by Mad Cave Studios #indiecomics #comicbook #comicbooktiktok #comicart #arttok #comictrailer #graphicnovel #madcavestudios #davechisholm #artistsoftiktok #arttok #spectrumcomic #indieartist #readmorecomics
One of the earliest threads I picked up on during our chat was the actual dynamic between Quinn and Chisholm. More specifically, that Quinn really structured this story in a way to let Chisholm’s art truly flourish. (More on the later.) And, to an extent, a lot of the narrative, then, is meant to be more understated and subtle: we follow Melody Parker as she finds herself tangled with Echo, an “elemental being with the power to alter reality through music.” Their encounter, then, forces young Melody to not only tackle a multiversal deluge of bizarre memories (which may or may not be her own), but question her very identity and sense of self.
That bulk of the narrative is never made overtly or needlessly obvious, which is both a strength and a deficit in a way. It’s a positive because Spectrum is very much this kind of curated reading experience, where you’re brought along by the creators into these rich pocket dimensions of culture and feelings, and that very much facilitates an experience not unlike the one Melody is going through at the moment. At the same time, that same “journey” isn’t necessarily guided by Melody — she’s as much as an inactive traveler in her own life and being lead across this madness.
At least so far, she has no sense of power or agency, and doesn’t yet feel fully realized enough. Melody and the reader being aligned is exactly what we want, but I also wanted something a bit more Melody-centric, where she could feel more robust and present in her journey and not just a stand-in for the audience in the most important moment of her life. I have every confidence that Melody will grow more as she stabilizes in this journey and tries to fight back against the things she sees and ideas she’s presented. But so early on, she just doesn’t wow as much as we could.
Courtesy of Mad Cave Studios.
Of course, in the process of working through that, a thought dawned on me: maybe Spectrum really isn’t Melody’s story, or even mine or yours to whatever extent. That Melody is a body double, as it were, for Quinn and Chisholm. That this pair are working out big ideas like history, art, memory, legacy, and grief through her, and that this story is less about one girl’s journey and more so Quinn and Chisholm coming together to try and tie these shared ideas and interests together to make sense of it all.
That’s best supported by the narration and “secondary” storyline across Spectrum. That it’s really (via Quinn’s writing) a chance to dissect music history and rewrite their own; to go on short but mighty diatribes about the struggles of these “fictional” artists and the magic they present regardless; and how this patchwork of real/non-existent history is actually real because it matters to at least two people. They are, sort of like a brainier High Fidelity, showing us that we are the echoes of what we love, and that people and art are equally as vital. And that by telling these linked tales, we can open ourselves up to a multiverse of fresh perspectives and ideals. It’s also in this wading through the sounds of life that we can see the truest versions of ourselves. That things may change and grow in odd ways, but the beating heart of it all is those things we give ourselves and share with others via art/music.
And I think that this extra personal approach/tendency would explain why Quinn is all about placing more spotlight on Chisholm. Sure, that ought to be the nature of most collaborations in comics, but as I picked up on during our chat, Quinn wants to be the terra firma for the interdimensional magic Chisholm’s weaving. And by structuring the book as it is — Melody as a device for entering the multiverse, offering stability and a baseline of humanity via the narrative — Chisholm goes absolutely wild in Spectrum‘s debut.
Courtesy of Mad Cave Studios.
I don’t have enough time in the day or fingers on hands to accurately capture the art across Spectrum #1. When Chisholm went deep into how he sees comics and music as alike or parallel, I found myself totally delighted and wildly intrigued. And once you get into the book proper, he makes that connection seem so elemental. Be it the way that color can feel both like a downbeat, accentuating or extending a scene (or how it takes over other parts and thus feels like some guitar solo); how scenes (like Melody’s first run-in with these multiversal music manipulators) rumble with the kinetic energy of an actual melody; and just the gentle but beguiling air of orchestration to the story’s movement, Spectrum is as much music to the ears as comics to the eyes (and heart and soul and etc.) The coloring, especially, just grabs you in a way that there’s a cohesive experience (as cohesive as a multiversal peyote trip can be) while offering variation/gradation — sort of like the way songs exist and move.
Chisholm’s marriage of mediums (or is it maybe just a revelation of the natural order of things?) is done not just as theory or technical display — there’s so much life bursting across Spectrum. This whole approach feels like the only way to truly capture the sheer size/scope of this book, one that dips and weaves between worlds and timelines in a way that thrills but never leaves you feeling (too) disoriented or out of tune. In that way, that’s where we see more of Melody’s own humanity: it’s not that she’s more clear somehow, but rather feeling her pulsing across these bizarre, brain-melting moments gives me hope that she can break through some of Spectrum‘s experimental “tendencies” and feel as real as her creators. It’s sort of like hearing an instrument or melody in a song, and waiting for it to crash through. And when it does, it will consume us that much more voraciously.
Courtesy of Mad Cave Studios.
So, sure, you likely can’t come to Spectrum as I have (or like some other industry folks, to prove I’m not totally disconnected). But the question is, do you even need to? Because if you hit play on this specific jukebox, the song that pours out is something that sways like samba, hits like post-rock, croons like folk, and obliterates minds like psychedelic. Even if it takes work to keep time (and a sense of self) within this sonic-visual wonder, Spectrum is a truly profound experience that welcomes big hearts and curious consumers.
Time will tell how the experience will truly grow and deepen, but turn this one on and let it percolate in your brainpan for a while.
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