Punks Not Dead: London Calling #4: …to the Imitation Zone

Get ready for the kaleidoscopic, near psychedelia to reach its apex in this issue. This read will be unforgiving if you haven’t been paying attention because, while the is some exposition, this issue has enough faith that you’ve been paying attention and cracks on with things.

You get to see reunions aplenty as Feargal and Sid’s quest to find dad reaches fruition. Frivolous betrayals, Ex Machina rescues, smashing guitars in the spirit realm, psychic/supernatural grandstanding and vulgar displays of power. Do not shut your eyes for a second or you will miss something, and trust me, you don’t want to miss a damned thing.

Least of all the incredible art by Martin Simmonds. Did I say these pages should be on exhibit at some cutting edge and highly fashionable soiree? (I believe I just did.)

The color is an assault on the senses that will stimulate every ounce of serotonin in your brain. The character designs and layouts are the spoiled children of fashion week chic and art school excellence. But it is the artistic and poignant rendering of the human, heartfelt beats in this issue that really connect on another level.

The sombre look over a shoulder, the sheer joy and elation in a hug, awkwardness, embarrassment, power, assertion, it’s all communicated with such magic that it must be the occult themes emanating from the page.

Or… is it that David Barnett just knows what he’s doing here?

He must. The characters feel so real. It’s been a consistent highlight of this series and the last that Barnett knows his characters and gives them a voice as if he unknowingly recorded real people, he shared a room with.

If this is not Black Crown’s flagship book, then at the very least Barnett has powered his way to being the imprints unofficial flagship writer.

Credit to Shelly Bond for really believing in her charges, backing them to the hilt because the result is productions like this that are begging to be read, re-read, collected and read again.