Jandek
The Gone Wait (2003)

Review by: Dustin Pangonis
Date: 6/1/04

An acoustic guitar that was last tuned three years ago (assuming it had, at one time, been in tune) is plucked with little regard to conventional ideas of melody, rhythm, or song structure. Over the next few minutes, a low voice begins to groan a string of lyrics (it is difficult to use the word "sing.") After six minutes of formlessness, a ten second silence signals a track change, and a new song begins, indistinguishable from the first.

This is the world of Jandek's latest release, The Gone Wait, which came out last year. Jandek is a reclusive solo artist, and has been releasing similar works for over two decades. Willfully obscure, Jandek neither tours nor gives interviews. Finding one of his albums, even in a good record store, is a rarity.

Typically, you have to write directly to Corwood Industries (his own label,) the reply from which is invariably an impersonal catalog of albums on a single sheet of paper. My own letter to the elusive label was met only with the order form, and a copy of his new record, graciously included in response to my request for a promotional copy of any new albums for possible review. Typically, a Jandek CD goes for eight dollars, the price of which is lowered to four if you order in bulk and buy twenty or more.

The entire record continues in the fashion of the first song, with only five songs ranging from six to ten minutes in length. The lyrics are extremely personal and difficult to penetrate. The first track, "I Went To Hell", begins with: "First I went to Hell/Then I went to Heaven/Can I catch you on your way to Hell?/Take the life that's coming out of you?/And when it's Heaven/I can't go with you when you die/But I died too/And I was born into your loving arms."

A few seconds of silence let you know the song has ended, and then another emerges from the murk. A dismal tone permeates throughout the music, in the meandering, detuned guitar, moaned vocals, and cryptic, hurt lyrics. You can't imagine he gets any enjoyment out of playing these songs, evidenced by his reclusiveness, reluctance to play live or talk about his art. Why he releases the music at all, in fact, is a bit of a mystery.

But it's perhaps this air of mystery that gives Jandek appeal: Jandek's elusiveness gives him one edge: because nothing is known about him, the art must speak for itself. The already bizarre music is coated with a layer of mystery, and is open to personal interpertations. Despite the fact that this record has little redeeming qualities in the sense we usually look at music (being neither technically complicated nor catchy and fun enough to qualify as pop), Jandek has produced, as usual, a very compelling listen.

It's true that not every ear will be able to enjoy the atonal ramblings, or the long, drawn out songs, but I've spun the disc several times at night while going to sleep, and it's very easy to get lost in what seems to be a never ending chain of haunting sounds. The number of people who will connect with Jandek's music pales in comparison to those who will simply disregard it as trash, but that connection is profound enough to make seeking his music out worthwhile. It's such a wonderful record to get lost in, I'm not sure I want to figure it out. In an age where I could probably scrutinize the lyrics of a publizied pop star without even hearing their music, it's interesting to be able to judge music, especially music so different from anything else I've ever heard, simply as music.