Audio-Visuals
JANDEK ON CORWOOD
Directed by Chad Friedrichs
(Unicorn Stencil)
A hit on the independent film festival circuit in 2003, Jandek on Corwood finally comes to DVD. For those unfamiliar with Jandek (and that's probably 90% of you), here's a quick explanation: Jandek is the artistic pseudonym for an otherwise anonymous songwriter who's put out a steady stream of self-released records since 1978. So far he's up to 34 albums in 27 years. The records, adorned by an unfancy image of a room, a house or the artist himself, consist mostly of a forlorn voice singing, chanting, muttering or screaming over a guitar tuned in an utterly distinctive way (some might even say untuned). Occasionally electric instruments, even other musicians, make an appearance, but mostly Jandek music is seemingly one man's inner dream dialogue transubstantiated into audio. It's music most even those who consider themselves adventurous listeners want nothing to do with.
Jandek does have his fans, however, especially among music critics and collectors of audities, and it's these folks who are the real stars of Jandek on Corwood. For, you see, Jandek himself refuses to interviews, issue press releases, give concerts (though this changed with his recent performance at a European music festival—his first show ever) or promote himself or his music in any way, other than the infrequent ad that simply states "Jandek on Corwood, PO Box 15375, Houston, TX 77220." The musician is better known for the mystique surrounding his alleged existence in the music world than he is for the music itself. As such, much of the film is taken up by analysis and speculation—and it's almost all speculation—about his life, psyche and artistic motivations. Everyone has his/her own interpretation of the enigma that is Jandek. Critic Douglas Wolk consider the man's work to be "a 33-volume suicide note." Writer Richie Unterberger, who's spent his career chronicling the efforts of those outside the mainstream, thinks Jandek has deliberately fomented the mystery in order to draw attention to his work without having to go through the usual promotional channels. Several of the writers interviewed use words like "recluse," "introverted," "anti-social" and even, perhaps unfairly, "sociopathic." Some of these folks seem to want Jandek to be some sort of psychopathic savant, for whom his continued artistic striving is the only thing keeping him from re-enacting The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
Not everyone buys into that, however, and I think they're closer to the truth. Writers Byron Coley, Gary Pig Gold and George Parsons and filmmaker Amy Kelly have the most insightful comments about the Jandek phenomenon, as they accept his work on its own terms. Jandek makes the kind of art that appeals to him, with little to no concern about how anyone else will take it, and if we get it, as Kelly points out, "that's pure luck." That isn't to say they're not interested in the mind behind the music, but they're much more willing to concede the man his privacy and less willing to jump to conclusions based solely on the evidence in the grooves. After all, if all we accepted at face value was an artistic persona, half the hip-hop world would be in jail and Nick Cave would be locked in a mental institution for the rest of his life.
Jandek on Corwood is less a movie about a specific artist than it is on the nature of celebrity. Certainly Jandek's name isn't going to appear on Entertainment Tonight anytime soon, but it has a certain cache amongst the cognoscenti of outsider artists, and this is in large part because every person who hears the man's work forms his or her own interpretation of what it means and what the creator is. From Roctober editor Jake Austen insisting that the name is pronounced "Yahndek" to the choices director Friedrichs himself makes to substitute for footage of the artist (lots of streams, oceans, shores, abandoned houses, lonely bedrooms, acoustic guitars, ancient reel-to-reels, even bloodstained sheets), every individual that appreciates Jandek does so in a different way and creates a unique version of this particular luminary. Most artists control their own images, sometimes down to the fibers used in the clothes they wear. Jandek, on the other hand, has no image except that which comes from letting the music weave its spell on the individual listener. It's so simple it's revolutionary, and Jandek on Corwood captures that concept brilliantly.
The DVD has several intriguing extras not seen in the theatrical release, including a travelogue through Jandek's album covers, duplications of some of the few print articles about the man (including a memorable piece in Texas Monthly where Katy Vine talked to Jandek face-to-face, but gleaned absolutely no information from him) and a series of interviews done for a radio station's 2003 "Jandek Orgy." Most important, however, is John Trubee's interview tape from 1985, the only instance where Jandek consented to talk about his music for a magazine. Jandek comes across as perfectly lucid and sane, if a bit inexperienced giving interviews, and clearly not the borderline nutcase so many of his fans would like him to be. There's little revelation about his artistic process, though he makes it clear he tunes his guitar before every session, adjusting it to what sound right to his unique ear, but it does puncture certain mythic balloons. Arguably, though, the straight dope isn't necessary. After all, as Corwood Industries itself put it in a response to Friedrich's request for cooperation, "You may not get all the answers you want. It's better that way." Michael Toland [buy it]
