Adam (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} autumnwalker) wrote,@ 2005-09-07 11:04:00 |
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Jandek last night....
I've been staring at this screen for a long time trying to think about what to say about last night. It's difficult to put such an experience into words, but I'll try my best.
Yesterday evening Joe and I made the journey up to New York City to see Jandek. For those of you not familiar with Jandek, he's a very interesting fellow. The gist of his story goes a little something like this: musician starts writing music and releasing his own records. The music on them is a little weird, and little creepy, and a little strange. Most of it falls loosely into the folk category. However, Jandek never makes public appearences. So all these rumors start up about him, and he becomes and engima of underground music. He is loved by many, from Kurt Cobain to college radio DJs the world around. But nothing is know about him, except for his songs. No one is even sure if the pictures on his albums are of him or someone else.
Fast foward 30 years. By now Jandek has released well over 20 albums and has still remained relevant and popular in and underground sense. All of a sudden he shows up at a festivle in Europe, plays a set, and leaves. Says nothing except what he sings. Then he starts scheduleing more shows. Another in London, then one in Texas, New Orleans (which never happened...) and finally New York. I managed to get tickets, and Joe and I went.
The show took place at the Anthology Film Archives. An interesting venue. It holds about 200 people, tops, so the setting is very intimate. Everyone gets in and sits down. People are in generally good spirits, talking to their friends, but mostly just waiting. The lights go down and the room gets completely silent. No one dares make a sound anymore. A man, maybe in his late 30's or early 40's, gets up on stage and introduces himself as a representative of Corwood Industries, which is the label that all of Jandek's records were released on. This clears up one of the many mysteries, Corwood Industries has a staff and is not just Jandek doing all the work himself. The man welcomes us and thanks us for coming. And that's it. He tells us the performance will start in a minute or so, but never mentions Jandek's name. This is a common routine, because the rumors all say that Corwood Industries refuses to use Jandek's name in any sort of writings.
A door in the back somewhere opens and closes. Two people take the stage, one is a guitarist, the other plays the stand up bass. Chris Coranso climbs up on stage and takes his place behind the drum kit. A tall man wearing a black cowboy hat emerges from the shadows, and takes his place behind two Korg keyboards. That's Jandek folks. One look at him and another mystery is solved, he is in fact the same man on the record covers. Except the man on the covers is in better shape. Jandek looks like a man on his deathbed. Pale and boney, with sunken eyes that would seemingly gaze right into your soul if you got too close to him. Without any introduction or greetings, he starts to play. The band chimes in with him immediately. The music is almost other-wordly, and it is true improvisation. There is nothing rehearshed about it at all. The guitar squeals and yelps in the background, a little out of place at times. The bass rumbles below everything else, sometimes in key with Korg, sometimes floating somewhere else. Chris is playing a lot of cymbols this evening, and he has a gong that is tapped lightly at key moments. The Korg is emitting sounds that are all too familiar. They are the sounds that nightmares are made up of.
There is nothing pretty about this music. It is music for hopeless souls, for the lost, for the downtrodden. Jandek's lyrics are cylical. Depression is the key theme here tonight. Over and over again. Hopelessness. Loss. Death. He is truly a man who is putting his soul out for us. The Korg clangs in the background. Feelings rush over me throughout his performance. I want him to get out of my head. He has somehow wormed his way in there and will not leave. I get tired and have to close my eyes for a minute here or there. I should not be here, watching this. This is not meant for me. It's clear now why he never played out. Why he just recorded albums. It's too much too handle. Having to bring yourself down that low to a room full of strangers is not something you can do everynight. The cymbals crash in the background. Chris is playing them with a violin bow now. The songs end and people clap, but it doesn't feel right. When the clapping subsides, the next song begins. All the songs are similar. They may in fact be only one song, just broken up to make it easier to swallow. The same themes and tones run throughout. You don't know if you'll make it out of this one. It's so dark. Jandek mutters the word depression. Again, louder this time. The Korg clangs back to life and jolts us out of the trance we are in. At one point a song is formed. The bassist is playing an actually structured line, and the drummer is in time with him. The Korg chimes in the same key as the bass. Structure is achieved, but only for a fleeting moment. The guitarist has quit by this time. Jandek did not like the guitarist. Neither did I. He didn't fit. That's ok, he sits the last few songs out.
The all of a sudden, it's over. They walk off stage and I will never see Jandek in person again. The lights come up and people get up and walk out. We're not really sure what happened in there, but it will certainly never happen again. At first I was mad at Jandek. I'm not even sure why. As time progressed after the show, I can think clearly again, and I begin to realize just how special what I just witnessed was. It will never happen again. Even if Jandek plays again, and I am there, it will be different. And I'm ok with that. What we experience last night was just for the 200 of us, and no one else. It all makes sense now.
I've been staring at this screen for a long time trying to think about what to say about last night. It's difficult to put such an experience into words, but I'll try my best.
Yesterday evening Joe and I made the journey up to New York City to see Jandek. For those of you not familiar with Jandek, he's a very interesting fellow. The gist of his story goes a little something like this: musician starts writing music and releasing his own records. The music on them is a little weird, and little creepy, and a little strange. Most of it falls loosely into the folk category. However, Jandek never makes public appearences. So all these rumors start up about him, and he becomes and engima of underground music. He is loved by many, from Kurt Cobain to college radio DJs the world around. But nothing is know about him, except for his songs. No one is even sure if the pictures on his albums are of him or someone else.
Fast foward 30 years. By now Jandek has released well over 20 albums and has still remained relevant and popular in and underground sense. All of a sudden he shows up at a festivle in Europe, plays a set, and leaves. Says nothing except what he sings. Then he starts scheduleing more shows. Another in London, then one in Texas, New Orleans (which never happened...) and finally New York. I managed to get tickets, and Joe and I went.
The show took place at the Anthology Film Archives. An interesting venue. It holds about 200 people, tops, so the setting is very intimate. Everyone gets in and sits down. People are in generally good spirits, talking to their friends, but mostly just waiting. The lights go down and the room gets completely silent. No one dares make a sound anymore. A man, maybe in his late 30's or early 40's, gets up on stage and introduces himself as a representative of Corwood Industries, which is the label that all of Jandek's records were released on. This clears up one of the many mysteries, Corwood Industries has a staff and is not just Jandek doing all the work himself. The man welcomes us and thanks us for coming. And that's it. He tells us the performance will start in a minute or so, but never mentions Jandek's name. This is a common routine, because the rumors all say that Corwood Industries refuses to use Jandek's name in any sort of writings.
A door in the back somewhere opens and closes. Two people take the stage, one is a guitarist, the other plays the stand up bass. Chris Coranso climbs up on stage and takes his place behind the drum kit. A tall man wearing a black cowboy hat emerges from the shadows, and takes his place behind two Korg keyboards. That's Jandek folks. One look at him and another mystery is solved, he is in fact the same man on the record covers. Except the man on the covers is in better shape. Jandek looks like a man on his deathbed. Pale and boney, with sunken eyes that would seemingly gaze right into your soul if you got too close to him. Without any introduction or greetings, he starts to play. The band chimes in with him immediately. The music is almost other-wordly, and it is true improvisation. There is nothing rehearshed about it at all. The guitar squeals and yelps in the background, a little out of place at times. The bass rumbles below everything else, sometimes in key with Korg, sometimes floating somewhere else. Chris is playing a lot of cymbols this evening, and he has a gong that is tapped lightly at key moments. The Korg is emitting sounds that are all too familiar. They are the sounds that nightmares are made up of.
There is nothing pretty about this music. It is music for hopeless souls, for the lost, for the downtrodden. Jandek's lyrics are cylical. Depression is the key theme here tonight. Over and over again. Hopelessness. Loss. Death. He is truly a man who is putting his soul out for us. The Korg clangs in the background. Feelings rush over me throughout his performance. I want him to get out of my head. He has somehow wormed his way in there and will not leave. I get tired and have to close my eyes for a minute here or there. I should not be here, watching this. This is not meant for me. It's clear now why he never played out. Why he just recorded albums. It's too much too handle. Having to bring yourself down that low to a room full of strangers is not something you can do everynight. The cymbals crash in the background. Chris is playing them with a violin bow now. The songs end and people clap, but it doesn't feel right. When the clapping subsides, the next song begins. All the songs are similar. They may in fact be only one song, just broken up to make it easier to swallow. The same themes and tones run throughout. You don't know if you'll make it out of this one. It's so dark. Jandek mutters the word depression. Again, louder this time. The Korg clangs back to life and jolts us out of the trance we are in. At one point a song is formed. The bassist is playing an actually structured line, and the drummer is in time with him. The Korg chimes in the same key as the bass. Structure is achieved, but only for a fleeting moment. The guitarist has quit by this time. Jandek did not like the guitarist. Neither did I. He didn't fit. That's ok, he sits the last few songs out.
The all of a sudden, it's over. They walk off stage and I will never see Jandek in person again. The lights come up and people get up and walk out. We're not really sure what happened in there, but it will certainly never happen again. At first I was mad at Jandek. I'm not even sure why. As time progressed after the show, I can think clearly again, and I begin to realize just how special what I just witnessed was. It will never happen again. Even if Jandek plays again, and I am there, it will be different. And I'm ok with that. What we experience last night was just for the 200 of us, and no one else. It all makes sense now.
