Stop me if you've heard this one before: a mopey, socially anxious teenager just can't find the courage to make friends. They're kind and friendly at heart, but feel like an outcast from others who make friends much more easily. Then, out of the blue, a quirky girl their age suddenly appears to sweep them off their feet, encourage them to break out of their shell, and experience the thrills of adolescence they never believed were possible. It's about as standard a setup as you can get with this kind of coming-of-age romantic drama, and I'm certainly not going to pretend it's suddenly fresh and new just because the awkward lead in Hello, Melancholic! is also a girl. This is by and large an extremely familiar story – but that doesn't mean it can't be a good one if told well, and through this first volume, this series is a firmly charming riff on the formula.

A lot of that comes from Minato herself, and specifically how the series makes her character feel real and relatable beyond her archetypal traits. Her tall figure, uncombed mop of hair, and stiff body language make her stand out among the clean and casual cast around her, perfectly emphasizing her anxiety over attracting attention. Pretty much any time she's standing up, she's also hunched over, arms hugging into her chest as if to take up as little space as possible – there's even mention of the awkwardly fast walk that seems to be universal among clumsy nerds across the world. The only time she ever stands up straight, unashamed of her full size, is when she's lost in playing her trombone, excellently articulating how music allows her to express herself where words fail. While on a purely technical level Yayoi Ohsawa's art is fairly average, the attention to body language goes a long way in characterizing Minato and her compatriots, and making them feel real to the reader.

Which is good, because this is a comic book about music, which is a pretty challenging thing to get by in a purely visual medium, especially with the frankly eclectic makeup of Hibiki's band – drums, trombone, flute, bass, and a single member pulling triple duty on piano, saxophone, and guitar. It's an odd mix of instruments that I imagine would end up sounding like some kind of jazz fusion, but the series never really gets into the nitty and/or gritty of them composing or practicing music. About the deepest you're really going to get here is the first chapter title being a possible reference to a song by The Pillows, because otherwise music here is strictly a means of building character relationships. Band or music nerds looking for a deep dive into the particulars of high school musicians composing or practicing music should best look elsewhere.

Not that that's a bad thing – it's honestly a pretty good idea for the series, considering the limitations of its own medium. The key theme of this volume is stated outright by Hibiki in her first jam session with Minato: music is a conversation, and more important than talent or skill or precision is the desire to say something with your music. Whether it's to blend in and follow others' sounds, to experiment with your own, or to simply mix yours with others and see what happens, the important thing is that you're playing at all. For Minato, who's spent years trying to blend into the background to avoid judgment, and it's an important reminder of what makes music special to her, and sells the conceit of a band-themed romance better than any minutiae about chord structure ever could.

It's a touching sentiment that builds out into the broader hijinks the characters get into outside of their band, too. Whether they're hanging out at a restaurant, sneaking out of the house for late night band practice, or running from the cops while hauling all their gear, the key is for Minato to put herself out there with them rather than shrinking into the background out of fear. It's a simple and familiar moral, but one delivered with tons of heart and care. There are moments that border on cliché, but nonetheless capture the exuberance of doing something new for the first time, or following an impulse against your better judgment. In those pages, Hello, Melancholic! positively shines.

And while the overall plot in this first volume is sparse, we do thankfully get some insight into Hibiki's personality beyond a bright and inviting girlfriend fantasy. She's grown up with music for just as long as Minato, but her familial history has left her with a bitter distaste for competitive music, alongside a passionate desire to pursue music her own way. She's also stubborn to a fault, playing through a wrist injury that only Minato's sharp ears catch, and having to be strong-armed into laying off practices. The volume ends before we get any resolution on that – or any real development of our central relationship beyond Minato's blushy lovesickness – but it does a great deal to flesh her out as a character, to feel as real and rounded as our lead.

Still, that does leave this volume feeling a bit slight. By the end of a first volume you usually want to feel like there's been at least a little bit of resolution, but very little has changed beyond Minato and Hibiki growing closer, and their first live performance looming closer. But series like these are a marathon, not a sprint, and there's plenty of charm in the small details and vibrant personalities on display here to keep you coming back. That's about all you can ask for an opening act, so here's hoping the main performance is worth the buildup.