
Jandek on Corwood (USA, 2003) 88 min color DIR-DOP: Chad Freidrichs. PROD: Chad Freidrichs, Paul Fehler. (Unicorn Stencil)
At least up until this making of this documentary, Jandek was/is one of the music world’s best kept secrets. For over a quarter century, this Texan has made nearly three-dozen albums, each only selling a handful of copies. (In his sole published interview in 1985, he mentions that his eight or nine albums released from 1978 to then have in total sold about 100 copies!) However, this musician, who operates out of a PO Box under the enigmatic umbrella of Corwood Industries, has nonetheless acquired a cult following in spite and because of his obscurity.
Yet, who is responsible for this enigma? Jandek himself? Or the people who have written about him? Wittingly or not, Jandek perpetuates that sense of mystery, with his record covers featuring blurry, spare images, and they are always without technical or musical credits. He offers nothing about himself that isn’t already on the wax between the aloof cardboard sleeves. Isn’t it simply enough that he records and releases the work? And isn’t it enough that we appreciate just that?
Indeed, his spare sound is intriguing enough that it is understandable why rock writers and collectors have gradually found out about his music over the years, and have since become converts. Perhaps I have too, just on the strength of this film. The “Jandek sound” is typically a wispy voice and sparse accompaniment- often a clanking guitar that seems more like exclamation points to his elusive prose, than chords. Whenever he does have other artists on his records, we know it because the songs are titled accordingly: “Nancy Sings”, “John Plays Drums”.

And even then, the mystique of Jandek is such that his fans want to know who Nancy and John are. Whose lives have been graced with this modern enigma? Although the fascination with this artist has been going on now for three decades, perhaps Jandek is the perfect romantic anti-hero in the age of information- he has safely remained elusive. If anything, his fans prefer that the enigma stay intact. They don’t want the crushing reality to destroy their trumped-up visions of this man. In fact, director Chad Friedrichs respects that enigma as well. Unlike a documentary I once saw on the reclusive author J.D. Salinger (which revolved around Holy Grail-like footage of a present-day Salinger), he deliberately keeps the movie one-sided, choosing instead to display the artist’s appeal (which is of course equal parts elusive image and unclassifiable sound), and not to destroy any illusion by trying to film the musician.
Yet in between interviews, the film is full of spare images that compliment the music we hear on the soundtrack. In a sense, these visuals become the music videos he never made. I generally dislike music videos that tend to be more than filmed performance pieces, as they often fail to visually capture the imagery that the sound has already evoked in your mind. But here, it is perfect. His wispy voice cascades over whispering grass, or a lighthouse by lonely terrain. And even “Nancy Sings” over a simple, beautiful shot of a rainy street corner at night.
We end with “The Interview”- a taped conversation between Jandek and John Trubee for Spin magazine. The musician is very affable, but guarded at the same time. While we hear this interview, Friedrichs recreates the telephone conversation with representative imagery that would do Errol Morris proud. Our Godot has been found… somewhat. We discover as much about the man as he will allow- our illusions are still retained. Since the release of this picture, interestingly enough, Jandek has made some public performances. One fan site has published concert photos on line. Jandek looks like… oh never mind.
Originally printed in Vol. #1, Issue #17, “Rock and Roll Goes to the Movies”. Since this review, there has also been a Jandek concert DVD released. Even he has come above ground, somewhat.