I’m going to be 100% frank here: our love of “Li’l Depressed Boy” is so well documented here at Multiversity that a quote from our review begins the book description for the first volume trade (seriously). We love the book, we love to tell you about the book, and we love to show off things from the book.
You guys get it, right? “Li’l Depressed Boy” is great, and we’re fans.
Now, with that clear/obvious/blatant bias in mind, click past the cut for some thoughts on the new issue. Some mild spoilers are discussed.
Written by S. Steven Struble
Illustrated by Sina Grace“WORRIED SHOES”
The Li’l Depressed Boy’s new job finds him in unfamiliar territory. Fighting his more anti-social nature, LDB struggles to make it through the first day.
The first time I ever listened to Camp, I felt sad and slightly confused. I’d sparsely listened to the free songs Childish Gambino aka Donald Glover had put online, but I still wasn’t really sure what to expect other than an album from a comedic writer/actor on an NBC television show. Would it be an album full of dorky references, or odes to LeVar Burton (now that Troy had met him)? Would it be comedic rap, like some kind of weird hip hop version of Weird Al? He had previously done a song with Garfunkel and Oates, after all. That didn’t seem too far off an idea, and all my friends were raving about Culdesac, and I’m quite fond of his rendition of “Somewhere Out There” with Danny Pudi. I’d imagine it was a fair assumption that Camp would be fairly light hearted overall.
No. Camp was a mixture of clear dance/pop anthems and brutally honest songs covering a troublesome past, a confusing present and an ambiguous but hopeful future — assuming, of course, all the “stories” are true and not exaggerated for effect or to bolster up the Childish Gambino persona. The opening track, “Outside,” is a curious mixture of optimism and pessimism, detailing going to bed with a screwdriver under your pillow for protection and falling out with family yet still ending with the idea that you can rise above whatever previously held you down. This wasn’t the guy who co-wrote and co-starred in Mystery Team or who doubled for Tracy Morgan on “Werewolf Bar Mitzvah” for 30 Rock; this was someone completely different with something fairly serious to say, and it caught me off guard.
So, again: sad and slightly confused. Yet, after a few listens of Camp, the truth of the matter began to speak to me. In the end, it didn’t really matter who Glover was or who Childish is; what ultimately matters is my relation to the music. A good record is supposed to meet your ears and take you to another place, if only temporarily, via a musical road. If the people behind the record do their job right music can often be a transformative experience, with each individual track hitting you at different levels and bringing up different emotions, memories and feelings. Camp as a record says one thing, but each individual track when isolated says infinitely more, and where I come away from Camp is a decidedly positive experience (with the best track clearly being “Not Going Back,” one of the bonus tracks you get for purchasing the album).
It’s the exact same thing with comics, or at least the best ones. A good comic will entertain you for fifteen minutes or so, but a great comic stays with you. It’s one you re-read as often as you might re-listen to a favorite track. It’s something that stays with you, that you can read and relate to and find a personal identity within. If the people behind a comic book do their job right a collected story will be one thing entirely, but each individual issue will have a different individual meanings to you, fostering different connections and dredging up different emotions. It’s the difference between operating as parts of a whole and being a part of a whole, and is often the most apparent difference between creator-owned endeavors and company-owned comics; it’s what causes people to get so passionate about the comics they read and the characters they read about in the first place.
Continued belowImage’s “Li’l Depressed Boy” by Steven Struble and Sina Grace has long been one of the few comics with a heavy musical connection to bridge that gap. Each individual issue, while comprised of a whole arc (as part of a larger story), plays its own song like an individual track off a record. There are good songs and there are great songs, but each arc of “LDB” is somewhat of a concept album — or as close to a concept album as you can get in a visual medium as opposed to an audible one. And like Childish Gambino and Camp, “LDB” is never quite what I expect it to be; its a book from a guy who had done colors for comics with art by the editor of “the Walking Dead.” Releasing a musical-based book with guest appearances from the like of Andrew Jackson Jihad and Kepi Ghoulie? Not the first thing you’d think the two would do together.
Yet here we are: ten issues into this experimental little comic, the story of a ragdoll whose semi-anthem is probably “Self Esteem” or something, and the formerly subtle yet overt influence has thrown caution to the wind and the comic has fully embraced its musical expression. Oh, the music was always there of course, but this issue truly captures the transformative quality inherent in the best of music, firmly transcribed in a visual style. LDB, while attending a concert (which to the most devout of music lover can often be a divine experience in and of itself, an idea explored in previous issues) is whisked away in his head to a memory both real and unreal between himself and Glover. It’s not an overly drawn out moment, but in a few sharp pages we’re given a sequence that rather decisively relates to LDB’s personal issues in a serenely captured moment. It offers him clarity, a fresh perspective and a ray of hope in an otherwise hopeless issue which leads directly to the optimistic end of the issue to the tune of some Gambino lyrics. It’s a fearless issue in a regularly brave book, and it is by far the best “LDB” story thus far.
Gambino and LDB are essentially perfect for each other, and the recognition of that here by Struble and Grace is wonderful. While he’s always been a relatable reflection for our more vulnerable moments, there lies in LDB a dormant winning personality that could charm anyone if only he’d rise above his insecurities. Camp reflects this thought process throughout the entirety of the album, relating Glover’s own somewhat neurotic nature born from an awkward and nerdish childhood that has met with a resistant attitude towards the selfish notions of fame held by other rappers, and as different as their stories are they’re both reflections of a similar person. Gambino is the man LDB could theoretically be if he managed to escape his own shell, and through their meeting and the lyrical reflection of Camp the issue’s final message is quite clear. It’s incredibly poignant towards the entirety of this series so far. Granted, this is “Li’l Depressed Boy”, not “The Story of the Boy Who Was Once Upon a Time Sad a Lot”, so don’t expect any massive changes to the overal format, but the self-aware nature and commentary on the book via this issue is rather wonderful.
Of course there’s more to the issue overall. There’s a whole extended segment about LDB’s new job and how he deals in his own way with the degrading elements of being a low level minimum wage worker at a place frequented by the girl who just broke his heart. That was always “LDB’s” greatest strength: the book feels like art imitating life to a universal level, and while obviously not everyone can see through LDB’s eyes as some of us can, Struble and Grace have given LDB a world that’s familiar enough for us to get lost in yet different enough to remain unique to him. All short musical journeys and interior reflection aside, the issue stands as a good single entry into his ongoing tale.
Continued below(There’s a nice “Scott Pilgrim” shout-out in the issue as well for those paying attention, which is a very fitting reference over all.)
Every issue of “Li’l Depressed Boy” feels like a song for an unfinished album. If this issue were actually a song, it’d be a slow acoustic anti-ballad that builds in a crescendo towards a deafening roar of confidence and elated self-assuredness (similar to something like the Hush Sound’s “Echo” or the Dear Hunter’s “Black Sandy Beaches“), and anyone who has ever gotten misty-eyed and lost in a melody knows that sometimes that’s the best type of song to remind you of what you love about everything. Suffice it to say, “Li’l Depressed Boy” fills a wonderful little niche in every monthly pull, and you’d be hard pressed to find another comic as earnest as this elsewhere.
Final Verdict: 9.0 – Never underestimate how strong music is, and never ever underestimate how strong comics can be as well. Where the two meet is where you should find yourself.
