The ‘Best American’ series of books has been around for a while, compiling and cataloguing the best WHATEVERS from the previous year - poetry, fiction, nonfiction, ‘science writing’, mysteries, random assortments of things, and graphic verbal depictions of why every one of my relationships has failed. It’s not that the series is being unnecessarily exclusive by limiting itself to ‘American’ output, but the amount of beautiful creativity expressed by the world at large just wouldn’t fit into a singular, annual volume - so we focus on the local crowd.

It’s only been since 2006 that there’s a volume dedicated exclusively to comics, and it’s a definitely sign that graphic storytelling is being taken seriously. In this, I take a personal pride. I was SO there, like, fifteen years ago. This second volume, focusing on stories collected in 2007, is a full-color, 341-page, 2.5 pound, hardcover testament to comics as art.

The collection of stories bridges all forms of indie comics, omitting the standard superhero fare from DC and Marvel - which can almost always be found in reprint editions anyhow. It’s a bit of an elitist omission, but I’ll deal with it. Not even a page from Ultimate Avengers? Fine.

Many of the comics herein are small autobiographical tales, a good handful are bizarrely fictional, and there’s that whole middle section where things just go completely hallucinogenic, best read (as I did) with a low fever. Even a quick flip through the pages will break down any notions that a new comic reader might have about what a ‘comic’ is. Here’s the new definition : just about anything that you make and choose to call a ‘comic’.

More than half of these comics don’t display any kind of traditional artistic skill, just a desire to tell a visual story, and actually seem to pursue more of an ‘outsider’, untrained and uncensored approach. While I’m a fan of comics of all types, one can expect that the narratives in these will fall apart entirely and follow the strange mental machinations of a 5-year old, along with the same explosive enthusiasm and unbridled use of color and line. Skim through the works of Paper Rad, and the artist known only as ‘C. F’, who makes liberal use of ball point pens and stencils. Unusual and childlike as they are, they’re all carefully calculated. They can’t NOT be. These demonstrate the ideas that a comic doesn’t even have to be narrative anymore, and collections of surreal pictures are just as valid. Is it charming that these are being made by 30-year old men, or is it kinda creepy and effortlessly cheap? They have their place, and exist in their own bizarre section of the book. Gary Panter, best known for his design work on Pee-Wee’s Playhouse, is probably the strangest (and least kid-friendly) of all.

The only disadvantage to this collection is that it pulls a lot of work from the ‘Mome’ series of comics, which are small collections of work in themselves. Because I’m a reader of these, roughly 20% of the book is old news and already in my collection. Also, the inclusion of Aline Crumb in any collection of ‘best’ comics is an automatic disqualification from total greatness. For those readers who are unaware, Sophie Crumb is the daughter of legendary ‘indie’ comic artist Robert Crumb, who revolutionized and advanced the art form more than we can ever credit him for. Still, just because your dad is a rocket engineer, it does NOT automatically qualify you to work at NASA and fly the big spaceship (which is a comparison that I did not come up with on my own). Sophie Crumb’s derivative, obnoxious comics are perpetuated on the basis of her last name alone. Fortunately, there’s only one page of her, and unfortunately, that’s enough to make me go on a prolonged rant.

Most of these comics here weren’t even created in 2007, but have been culled from the last two decades. I was more interested in recent evolutions in the artform when I picked up the book, so the title remains misleading, but I guess there’s a lot of catching up to do after so many years of ignoring the artform. Chris Ware, a stellar artist himself, edits the collection and manages to arrange the stories in such a way that it’s like reading one enormous story that spans the book. None of Ware’s comics are included, though, which is another glaring omission. No James Kochalka (but a little Jeffrey Brown), and no Paul Hornschemeier, but it still finds a place alongside McSweeney’s #13 and An Anthology of Graphic Fiction as big, heavy books that I can show people when they start talkin’ smack about comics.

And if they still don’t believe me, it’s probably heavy enough to do some cranial damage.

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As an amateur music aficionado (with my paltry 4G iPod, stint as a college radio DJ and my eMusic subscription serving as qualifications), I have a proclivity towards those things which MTV and the local radio stations haven’t pounded into overproduced oblivion and accompanied by images of butt-shakin’ dancing girls or cars driving really fast. It’s not an intentional movement towards the obscure, and I’m not one of those people who’ll lord it over you if you’ve haven’t heard the newest Pantherteeth Escapade album… especially ‘cause I just made them up.

There are few events more inspiring that a live musical performance - where people actually play instruments because it’s what they love to do, and not because it’ll mean another swimming pool for their hilariously undersized dog. The energy, the mistakes, the ambient noises and the improvisations. Which is why I love Daytrotter.

Daytrotter is a fiery little music website run by Sean Moeller, veteran music enthusiast and writer. On a bi- or tri-weekly schedule, Daytrotter releases a set of four live music performances from a band or performer, recorded by some dedicated sound engineers at Futureappletree Studios in Rock Island, Illinois, all by indie bands who happen to be passing through. If there’s any ambiguity about the term ‘indie’, allow me to clarify by saying that it refers to musicians who are not beholden to major labels. These recordings are everything that music is about - energy, the artist, and using whatever you have to make something powerful because it’s all you know. At this point, Daytrotter has a year’s worth of musical content available for free download (or streaming directly) from their website, all archived by date and artist. With Daytrotter’s recent visit to SXSW, a multimedia fest held annually in Texas, they’ve added a whole new assemblage of bands to their repertoire from the acts scheduled to perform there also.

What all of this amounts to is a vast collection of music, each unique artist a jumping off point into other branches of independent music, which can be a labyrinthine pursuit into small, local venues and MySpace pages and potentially fraught with peril and permanent cochlear damage. I’ve come to respect Daytrotter as a wise filter to separate the good stuff from the musical garbage, and they haven’t failed me yet. With the recent attention that Wired and Rolling Stone have directed towards them, they’re poised for exponential growth. If you really, really need it, adding Daytrotter’s collection to your own is also worth some serious hipster cred.

I need to disclose that part of my affection for Daytrotter is that I’ve also been allowed to illustrate a few musicians for them, thus fulfilling my lifelong dream of doing musical portraiture. I’m not on the payroll though, so my love of what they do is genuine, and I’d be a loyal downloader even without a personal involvement. Is there anything more awesome than a free collection that you can instantly duplicate and add to your own?

I say thee nay.

Without a doubt, my favorite graphic novel of the past ten years is Bizarro Comics, published by DC Comics in 2001.

Bizarro Comics is a 236-page compendium of wonderful, independent comic artists and writers creating their own takes on the already surreal and bizarre world of superheroes, all collected into one purple and spectacular volume. The success of this book was followed up by Bizarro World in 2005, but this first volume is forever dear to my heart. It combines the exciting world of superheroism with the subtle beauty and humor of indie comics, like an octopus who can also mix a perfect gin and tonic. Complete. You can’t ask for anything more except for maybe another gin and tonic, and keep ‘em coming until that manatee at the end of the bar looks hot.

Bizarro is a DC Comics character who is, in himself, ridiculous. He’s a pale, rocky Superman clone whose vain attempts to emulate the heroism of the original Superman are forever met with confusion and destruction. All of this is complicated further by Bizarro perpetually saying the opposite of what he really means, misunderstanding basic Earth logic and eventually returning home to his planet, Htrae. Yes, that’s ‘Earth’ spelled backwards. And for this, Bizarro is so horribly absurd that he’s gone to the far side of the ‘awful spectrum’ and returned again to the awesome end. So while Bizarro himself is a small part of the book, the premise is that Bizarro himself is drawing these comics, justifying their departure from DCU canon.

My love for this book is truly immense, and because of this, I’ve carried it around with me to any comic convention that I can get to, hunting down the artists and writers who have contributed and asking them to sign it for me. I brought it to the New York Comic Con this past weekend to meet Dean Haspiel and acquire his signature, but he was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he saw the crowd of 20,000 people and smartly fled. My attendance was not a loss, though, as I randomly encountered Kyle Baker, which was even better.

Cartoonist Kyle Baker is the reason that Bizarro Comics exists. Him and his wife, Liz Glass, collaborated on a short comic called ‘Letitia Lerner, Superman’s Babysitter’, in which a young lady babysits the baby Clark Kent for Ma and Pa Kent. Since said superbaby has superpowers, antics ensue, including an escapade with the baby finding his way into a microwave. DC Comics, it is said, found this scene to be a bit too graphic (however comedic and having no harmful effects on the exceptionally durable child), and would not publish it in a regular Superman book. It was too good to let go, so they formulated the premise of Bizarro Comics and nestled it gently between other bizarre fare. Kyle Baker ended up winning an Eisner Award for this story, one of the most highly prized awards in comics. THIS is why it was thrilling to have him sign this book along with his wife.

This totals five signatures that I’ve collected inside this book, the others being Stephen DeStephano (who illustrated the entire introduction to the book), Evan Dorkin and Sarah Dyer. In carting this through the city this weekend, I began to ask myself why getting these signatures was so important and exciting for me. I mean, there were a ton of other more popular artists at the convention whom I could have brought stuff to for signatures, but I was only interested in Bizarro. Getting their signatures would have increased the value of anything they were on, surely! Financial gain could be mine! But my motives were slightly more abstract than that.

One aspect of collecting these signatures is that they take up so little space, and for an avid collector such as myself, space is at a premium. Two dimensions worth of ink on a page is a breath of fresh air compared to the three-dimensions of the latest Green Arrow action figure. Beyond that still is the excitement of meeting someone who inspires you.

You open up this book to the title frontispiece, you exude admiration, and mutually, you and the artist acknowledge that in some small way, your life was changed by what they’ve created. I don’t think that any other collectible really has been as emotionally satisfying as this kind of interaction. I’m not interested in collecting signatures of actors, or signatures via the mail. For as painfully shy as I am, I draw upon the kinship of being a fellow artist and find the confidence to interact with these folks that I so admire. And I try be articulate, though that was not the case when I met Bill Sienkiewicz, during which I said something like, “buhYOU’REAMAZINGBYE!’ and stumbled away. I think I’ve settled down a bit since then.

Collecting that requires a physical experience is always more interesting than shoegazing, eBay-based collecting, as rare as it might be. I have five signatures in this book. I only have about 50 to go, and I’m almost disappointed that it’s such a small number.