I saw Jadek on Saturday January 12, 2008 at the Swedish American Hall above Cafe Du Nord in San Francisco and it was an interesting blend of many different types of insanity.
Jandek is the enigmatic outsider of mainstream music who has created 45 albums since 1978 through his company called Corwood Industries. He never does interviews, admits that he’s Jandek or gives any information about who he is. He is probably the opposite of every known musician (cult or icon) in the entire music industry. A DJ at KUSF referred to Jandek as the “Uni-bomber of outsider music.” My friend Flubber, who came up from LA to see the show, said that Jandek was “More like the Colonel Kurtz of outsider music.”
The anticipation of the crowd before Jandek came out was very apparent. I talked with several people and they all seemed charged up and excited. I myself was feeling nervous for some reason. All around me, before the show, people were drinking coffee and smiling.
The lights went out and Jandek came out austerely along the edge of the club wearing all black, including a black hat that covered a lot of his head and part of his face. He kept his back to the audience at the beginning (and for much of the entire show) while he, Ches Smith (the drummer) and Tom Carter (the bassist) prepared to perform.
When it came, it was like an explosion of sound in that off-key Jandek style. Tom Carter followed Jandek with heavy bass rhythms and Ches Smith was all over the map with his drumming and facial expressions. As Jandek approached the mic to sing/recite his lyrics, he seemed to be far away from the audience.
The show, in my opinion, was set up in approximately four sections of mood enhancing themes. The first was a step into sadness; the second was life-hating despair; the third clinically diagnosed depression; and the fourth, a sort of Samuel Becket type of theme of “I can’t go on, I must go on.”
The sadness theme was sort of an introduction to Jandek’s world. Most of the lyrics were observations that people often make about things they see, though these were of a personal nature. This theme peaked with images that might be interpreted as drug induced hallucinations or the onset of schizophrenia.
It was obvious to me when the second theme came into play because many people walked out, including my buddy Luigi who was new to Jandek. The lyrics of songs went from contemplative (and rockin’) to the opening line “I hate my life.” This part of the show was tortured sadness and included many references to coffins and lost love. The words were extremely personal and very uncomfortable for me (and others too, I think).
After people began to walk out, and the lady next to me was tapping her leg in a manic pattern that tried to keep time with the music, I found another spot a little closer to the stage. I noticed many different types of reactions. Many people were sitting there motionless, others seemed to be fidgeting a lot, some were bouncing their heads to the drum beat, some were swaying to the guitar and others were just laughing hysterically.
The third theme, the diagnosed depression theme, turned from suicidal thoughts to questions along the lines of “What did I do wrong?” Although it was sad, it seemed to me that author was aware that his feelings were out of control and that there was a problem.
The final theme brought everything to a new place, but it was not necessarily a better place (or even the starting point). Jandek seemed to be leading the listener down a path that had no light at the end, no safety rail to hold on to and guarantees of any kind.
Jandek never said a word to the crowd. He just came out, performed for about two hours, and walked off stage, his persona remaining a mystery.
A guy in the audience was telling DJ Schmeejay and I that he saw Jandek on Haight Street the night before the show. He approached him and asked, “Excuse me, are you a representative from Corwood Industries?” Jandek smirked and said, “Why yes I am.”