I'm moving an old write-up on the elusive Jandek's first US show (08/2005, Austin, TX) into this column for your nostalgic enjoyment. I'm currently reading Dana Spiotta's Stone Arabia and I'm pretty sure that the whole Jandek legend that came to a head 6 or 7 years ago is loosely thrown into her character development. I don't know, read the book and see for yourself. Enjoi.
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In a style true to the rapidly accumulating urban legend surrounding him, the eclectic, enigmatic, and elusive Jandek made his first-ever US live performance tonight at Austin's historic Scottish Rite Theater, the mere 4th such performance of a career that spans 42 albums and nearly 30 years. As much a source of inspiration amongst the initiated few as he has been a complete mystery, Jandek has consistently throughout the years managed to elude any and all attempts at classification, musically and physically. After a long and prolific musical incubation verily unmolested by the public eye, the native Houstonian's choice of three cities for his first American "tour" includes Austin, New Orleans, and New York. His first performances in front of an audience (that are known of) were last year in Scotland and England, respectively.
I was able to procure tickets, and attended the affair with two hundred or so of my fellow Austinites, curious to see the idiom that is Jandek just as much as I was to hear his music. Not to denigrate the musical output in the slightest, though. Atonal and lilting, haunting and cacophonous, Jandek's artistry resembles nothing the listener has heard before. Resemblances, abject qualities, influences, all are eschewed in the face of what is truly a unique style. Coupled with such an arresting sound, the length and breadth of the impressive Jandek back catalogue is mighty indeed, with 42 records to date, 3 of which have been released just this year. Nearly thirty years after the very first record (Ready for the House, credited to a different name, "The Units"), the output remains prolific. Closer examination reveals the faintly defined "periods" of Jandek's music, which shows subtle and not-so-subtle changes in his artistic progression as the years go by, as well as the addition of side-players from time to time. The music itself is at once anxious and soothing, as Jandek's vocals waft through the atonal detritus like an apparition not wanting to be exposed, yet making it's presence known nonetheless. The man's tenacity to produce such myriad works in near-total isolation is yet another facet of this amazing story.
Many people have come to know Jandek through his legend, which is monumental in scope given the length of time and output of art involved. Leery and evasive of interviews, and loathe to print even the slightest personal detail on record sleeves save one solitary photograph and the cryptic address of a P.O. Box in Houston, the myth of Jandek has taken nearly thirty years to build itself to the crescendo that has occurred in the past year. Many in the audience tonight were present solely to see the idiom that is Jandek. Worthy of note, the idiom took a backseat to the music this night, as Jandek and his piece-meal group comprised of three young Austin and Houston-area musicians specially picked for the show plodded, wandered, and jolted through strange musical territory for nearly an hour and a half.
Taking the stage wordlessly, Jandek slowly and methodically prepared his instrument and amplifier, while the band readied itself silently. Dressed in a crisp, dark outfit capped by a slightly oversized gunslinger's hat a la "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly", Jandek appeared more suited to attend a funeral rather than play a show. Without a word, he cued the band and the music began. The tone was foreign and simultaneously reminiscent, something strange and exotic, a sound augmented by off-time arrangements and spurts of instrumentation inserted nearly randomly into the fray. Above it all, Jandek's sparse and chilling vocals painted scenes of melancholy design, left bare at the end of each passage as if posing questions to the audience at random. Despite the eclectic and sporadic elements of the "songs" performed, there remained a cohesive center to each, like a string tied to a far-off tree signaling the way back home through the maze of confusing and often concussive sounds emanating from the four players on stage. Jandek's signature chronically off-tune guitar was the center-piece with which to explore the depths of each passage, drawing the others back to the question being asked of them.
Upon playing for nearly and hour and a half, Jandek looked down at his songbook, thought better of turning another page, and just as quietly as he had entered the stage, methodically placed everything back in its original position and walked silently out of sight. The crowd gave a rousing applause, and the general sentiment held that something special had been witnessed by all in attendance. Indeed it had.
I was able to procure tickets, and attended the affair with two hundred or so of my fellow Austinites, curious to see the idiom that is Jandek just as much as I was to hear his music. Not to denigrate the musical output in the slightest, though. Atonal and lilting, haunting and cacophonous, Jandek's artistry resembles nothing the listener has heard before. Resemblances, abject qualities, influences, all are eschewed in the face of what is truly a unique style. Coupled with such an arresting sound, the length and breadth of the impressive Jandek back catalogue is mighty indeed, with 42 records to date, 3 of which have been released just this year. Nearly thirty years after the very first record (Ready for the House, credited to a different name, "The Units"), the output remains prolific. Closer examination reveals the faintly defined "periods" of Jandek's music, which shows subtle and not-so-subtle changes in his artistic progression as the years go by, as well as the addition of side-players from time to time. The music itself is at once anxious and soothing, as Jandek's vocals waft through the atonal detritus like an apparition not wanting to be exposed, yet making it's presence known nonetheless. The man's tenacity to produce such myriad works in near-total isolation is yet another facet of this amazing story.
Many people have come to know Jandek through his legend, which is monumental in scope given the length of time and output of art involved. Leery and evasive of interviews, and loathe to print even the slightest personal detail on record sleeves save one solitary photograph and the cryptic address of a P.O. Box in Houston, the myth of Jandek has taken nearly thirty years to build itself to the crescendo that has occurred in the past year. Many in the audience tonight were present solely to see the idiom that is Jandek. Worthy of note, the idiom took a backseat to the music this night, as Jandek and his piece-meal group comprised of three young Austin and Houston-area musicians specially picked for the show plodded, wandered, and jolted through strange musical territory for nearly an hour and a half.
Taking the stage wordlessly, Jandek slowly and methodically prepared his instrument and amplifier, while the band readied itself silently. Dressed in a crisp, dark outfit capped by a slightly oversized gunslinger's hat a la "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly", Jandek appeared more suited to attend a funeral rather than play a show. Without a word, he cued the band and the music began. The tone was foreign and simultaneously reminiscent, something strange and exotic, a sound augmented by off-time arrangements and spurts of instrumentation inserted nearly randomly into the fray. Above it all, Jandek's sparse and chilling vocals painted scenes of melancholy design, left bare at the end of each passage as if posing questions to the audience at random. Despite the eclectic and sporadic elements of the "songs" performed, there remained a cohesive center to each, like a string tied to a far-off tree signaling the way back home through the maze of confusing and often concussive sounds emanating from the four players on stage. Jandek's signature chronically off-tune guitar was the center-piece with which to explore the depths of each passage, drawing the others back to the question being asked of them.
Upon playing for nearly and hour and a half, Jandek looked down at his songbook, thought better of turning another page, and just as quietly as he had entered the stage, methodically placed everything back in its original position and walked silently out of sight. The crowd gave a rousing applause, and the general sentiment held that something special had been witnessed by all in attendance. Indeed it had.
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