Jandek on Corwood (2003)
"Jandek on Corwood" is perhaps the
most beautiful and poignant film about mystery, enigmatic
loneliness and the nature of art that one could ever
hope to see. Tied into this is much seeming melancholia
and sadness. And while the film also says much about
the nature of perception when faced with a mystery
in a way that highlights the intrigue and inquisitiveness
inherent in human nature, it does so quite subtly.
This story takes place in a discussion based on a
subject far from the mainstream of popular culture.
This is a delicate and wonderful film and in the end
it about nothing less than the sweet mystery that
is life itself.
"Jandek on Corwood" is also the
best documentary about a "celebrity" you will ever
see - precisely because it is about an artist so obscure
that the less one knows about him going in, the more
engrossing and captivating the film will seem.
Jandek, a singer and musician, has
released over 30 records in about 26 years and most
of them have been sold through his mail order company,
Corwood Industries, which exists only as a post office
box in Houston, Texas. Jandek's initial albums were
dark, moody, atmospheric affairs that consisted mainly
of the performer whining into a microphone while playing
an jangly, untuned guitar. Some might call it cacophonous
and unlistenable. Others find a raw and unadorned
poet, a lost soul and a untamed musician.
Jandek began solo but within a few
years into his career, other singers and instrumentalists
have joined in on some songs, all of them remaining
uncredited. Some of this is a moot point as talking
about how Jandek sounds is academic, there's something
here that is indescribable with words. Luckily this
film has a soundtrack of nothing but Jandek music
that makes what is being discussed here far more clear
and immediate for the audience. In many ways this
documentary has what is perhaps the most important
audio track of any film based in real life, even a
concert film.
Jandek's fans usually consider his
work in a group of 3 eras, or so the film states,
but a closer examination now shows 5 distinct periods,
his initial morose solo phase, the emergence of other
people on his records and a more gleeful feel, a return
to the moodiness, and then - a succession of three
spoken word/acapella records at the turn of the millennium
followed by a return to musical recordings. Jandek
recently released his 36th record, "Shadow of Leaves"
at the time of this writing, July 2004.
But, again, hearing the tunes and
talking about Jandek's music is what "Jandek on Corwood"
is all about and writing about it is a poor substitute.
Documentarian Chad Friedrichs' film contains music
exclusively by the subject and the tunes are often
haunting and moody. We really get a wonderful introduction
to the performer's catalog and find ourselves often
swept into the film by the dark yet soft and often
tenuous music that flows throughout the film.
Still, hearing Jandek and hearing
about Jandek can be two separate things and the latter
is simply mesmerizing. Person after person here, some
fans, some rock journalists, some record store employees,
expounds for minutes at a time about the man, his
myth, his music and his persona. Most of this is mainly
gleaned from conjecture about his enigmatic nature,
his reclusiveness and his unwillingness to engage
in self- promotion. Hearing someone talk about Jandek,
especially these aficionados of the performer who
speak with such awed reverence, is much more interesting
than hearing scholars talk about well-known musicians
like Dylan, Clapton, The Beatles or even R.E.M. These
are hardcore fans who have listened to and followed
the performer for years and their insights are imaginative,
interesting and jaw-dropping at times.
We discover here, in what is an
amazingly rare idea, that hearing someone talk about
Jandek isn't really as much about the musician as
it is about the person talking. It is a revelation.
Because the artist has remained so hermetic and so
reclusive, refusing to engage in interviews or public
declarations, all that is left is conjecture and extrapolation
which, in turn, says much more about the listener
and the fan than it does about the man in question.
(Can this be said about any other "artist?") Friedrichs
discovers the most intelligent and interesting people
with insights and hypotheses about Jandek to discuss
his music, his persona and his career and, in the
end, gives us a film that is as much about the fans
and the listeners as it is about the musician. It
is a brilliant and touching idea and one that never
fails to keep the audience of the film glued to the
screen.
Jandek's music is beautiful and
personal. We want to hear much more of it after the
film is over. The artist records his songs, his music
and/or his words and then releases them, almost without
fanfare, on a label of his own making and then makes
them available almost exclusively through mail order.
(Although it is never mentioned in the film, Jandek
has no website and none seems to exist solely to sell
his recordings. A look at Amazon.com found that the
site had none for sale either, not even used, although
a few used ones were available on-line at e-bay).
Jandek seems to release these records to no one in
particular. He seemingly records for only himself
and has no audience in mind. (Again, not mentioned
in the film but surely true is that he never performs
in public). Jandek is the epitome of a true artist,
one who creates solely for his own insight, his own
release of emotion and his own pleasure. The fact
that others appreciate his art seems almost a happenstance,
a coincidental by-product. If nothing else, Jandek,
as an artist, reminds us that Man is a creature who
inherently creates for his own amusement and pleasure;
Man is a creature who is capable of finding art within
himself daily; Man is a creature who has to express
himself and his feelings in some manner or he will
cease to exist; Man is inherently an artist and humanity
is nothing short of art itself. This is a concept
that no other artist seems to have come as close to
expressing as well as Jandek has. But Jandek hasn't
done this with a song, a poem or any particular artistic
piece. Rather, he has done it with his whole career
making his entire existence as a performer an important
artistic statement. He is perhaps the only other artist
other than Warhol of which this can truly be said.
And while there have been other
artist perhaps as equally seemingly inept as Jandek
(the Shaggs come to mind), none have created a public
person as apparently uninterested in achieving fame
or amassing fortune from his art as the reclusive
performer has. The Shaggs surely wanted fame. Most
performers seem bent on celebrity and notoriety, even
at the price of their own personality. Not Jandek.
Jandek is content on simply performing and producing
his work in a medium that can be listened to if one
so desires. Like Eno he is a "recording artist," a
performer who never performs live.
So what makes Jandek different than
any guy with a guitar, a reverb-saturated microphone
and reel to reel deck? Well, not much. Except he actually
puts his stuff out there for the world to hear and
has had some success in doing so. Jandek's work may
be correctly compared to modern art in that it has
a right to exist because the creator made the piece,
called it art and ended the question. It's like when
someone criticizes a painting by saying, "What's so
great about that? My kid could have painted that."
To which the response, of course, is, "Yes, but he
didn't."
Why is Jandek more important than
the hundreds of other obscure artists out there? Because
he has created a career that is in itself a work of
art. Granted, his enigmatic persona and his sheer
quantity of output may be part of his appeal, but
none of this is as important as the fact that he made
the records, paid to have them pressed on vinyl (and
later on CD) and put them out for the public to hear
(or completely ignore), releasing a new one every
six months or so for nearly 26 years. Jandek seemingly
doesn't want to be famous; he wants only to be an
artist. He doesn't want to be noticed; he just wants
to be.
Friedrichs has crafted an amazing
and beautiful visual ode to a man whose aural output
has seemingly negated the need for visuals. (Albeit
Jandek's album covers are certainly as important to
the story as the music within them and are given ample
time for discussion in the film). There is a real
simplicity to this film and although its detractors
could easily dismiss it as containing too many talking
head type interviews, the fact is that these work
because what the interviewees say is usually so interesting
and intriguing that no visuals are necessary. This
is a film about the people who "consider" Jandek as
much as it is about the artist so it is only right
that the "considerers," the fans, be elevated to statesmen
and important commentators. And even though the film
would work fine as a talking heads style documentary,
it often veers into amazingly wonderful visual territory
that is as stark and as gorgeous as Jandek's music
and as visually stunning as his album covers. These
images Friedrichs provides are compliments to the
story and to Jandek's music and they help to make
captivating either the stories being told or the Jandek
song being featured on the soundtrack. Every element
of this film clicks perfectly into place.
After seeing this film I not only
wanted to hear every Jandek album ever released, I
wanted to own this film. This film is as haunting
and as beautiful as any I have ever seen. It lingers
with the viewer long after seeing it and makes them
consider the nature of fame, of mystery, of celebrity,
of our own innate desire to create.
But it is also a film about the
world, about humanity, about our nature to question
and theorize about others and the world around us.
There is nothing simple here. This is not a quirky
and campy film about an obscure, morose, bad performer.
On the contrary, it is a deep, complex and often dark,
often humorous film about the very nature of man and
mankind and about finding our place in the world,
even when that place is seemingly outside of the established
world. It's a film that is as often as touching, poignant,
melancholy, honest, raw, and surprising as Jandek
music seems to be. It is difficult to walk away from
this film without feeling changed, without somehow
seeing the dark recesses in the corners - of the world,
of our cities, of our minds - suddenly more clearly
and passionately.
It is perhaps the biggest compliment
to give the film to say it creates a mystery and then
allows us to desire that it remains unsolved. Early
in the film, text on the screen informs us that only
one journalist has ever been able to interview the
artist, via phone in the mid-80's. Of course the viewer
expects the phone call to be an included in the film
and for it to be an important part of the story. We
can't wait to hear Jandek speak and explain himself.
But by the film's end, the mystery is so beautiful
and the enigma so captivating, that we don't want
to know the man, we don't want to hear him speak,
we don't want the secrets revealed. We want a mystery
that never ends. We don't want to hear the phone call.
Is the phone call included in the
film? That's a mystery you'll have to solve for yourself.
Ah, sweet mystery of Jandek! Sweet
mystery of life itself!
Notes:
The film previously screened in
Austin in March 2004 at the SXSW Film Festival.
I found a website about Jandek and
ordered two CD's via mail sent to his post office
box address. I ordered "Six and Six" and "Blue Corpse."
Up until the time they arrived in my mail box 10 days
later or so, I still wasn't 100% sure that this film
wasn't some elaborate hoax.
The film's website is http://jandekoncorwood.com
The most comprehensive Jandek website
I have found is http://tisue.net/jandek
(Note: One 'S' in 'tisue').
I saw this film at the Alamo Drafthouse
in July of 2004. About to sit down alone, I heard
someone call my name and looked to see Kevin In the
Dirty City. (Kevin is a guy in a band called In the
Dirty City and since I know so many Kevins, I have
to call him by this name). Kevin asked if I wanted
to sit together and we did. Before the movie we talked
about a couple of things that really became interesting
corollaries to the night's film. For one, we talked
about Eno's early vocal albums and how they had been
remastered and rereleased. We discussed the nature
of Eno's fame and his seeming lack of confidence in
his singing voice. We both agreed that Eno's singing
voice is amazing. We also discussed my website a bit
and my inability to be a self-promoter and this seemed
really tied to the film.
Before the film there was an a lot
of cool Alamo trailers. Two old trailers they showed,
seemingly at random, that were really nice were for
"Liztomania" and "Putney Swope."
I ordered a drink at the Alamo which
never came and I never attempted to re- order it.
(About 20 bucks they lost on that deal as when I drink
there I usually have several). The service at the
Alamo Downtown has become so horrible that I am really
unsure if I ever want to go there again. They show
films that don't appear at any other venue and recently
that is all they have going for them. The Alamo has
expanded so quickly that there is "no one minding
the store" and they are in great danger of losing
my business.
Kevin sat next to me during the
film and, since he is so small and lithe, (such a
wonderfully beautiful pale, wan boy) he often put
his feet up in his chair and sat at odd and interesting
angles. Our arms touched at times and it was little
magical. Hehe.
After the film I ran into Oriah
Lonsdale and Mike Flatten of Hobble, who had also
seen the film, and in the corner of my eye saw Greg
Beets of The Peenbeats and Summer Breeze fame. I've
only met Greg once so I didn't go over to say hello.
I think there were a lot of local musicians in the
audience.
