Jandek Albums (49)
'The Ruins of Adventure'
Release Date 4/30/2007
Tracks 5
Label Corwood
See Album Tracklist and Review
'What Else Does the Time Mean'
Release Date 1/1/2006
Tracks 8
Label Corwood Industries
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
What else does the time mean? Well, in 2006, what else could the passing of a mere several months mean other than that it was time for yet another Jandek release? It was a throwback to the most exploitative days of the record business in the '60s, when artists were sometimes chugging out four to six albums a year to squeeze the lemon while it was juiced. The difference here, however, is that there's no record company putting the squeeze on Jandek to crank out more product, or an insatiable demand from a big pop audience for that product; if there's any demand to fulfill, it's only his own. Uncompromising? Sure, as is What Else Does the Time Mean, an hour-long disc, which has more rattling dissonant solo guitar performances, adorned by Jandek's stretched-out vocal moans and disjointed lyrics. Palatable? No -- not only on its own terms, but also in the context of his own discography. For Jandek, variety is not only not the spice of life -- it doesn't even enter the equation (and nor is their much, if any, spice to his life, at least as reflected in his music). The vocal-less section of the opening track, "My Own Way" (which, at 16 minutes, is long even by Jandek standards), raises some hopes that perhaps he's decided to do an instrumental, but that's ruined by the entry of his trademark singing soon enough. His electric guitar on the record is spiky and reverberant, yet subdued and defeated, and of course doesn't roam near conventional tunes or tuning. The songs are more of the same dejected observations, albeit not always of the sort you'd hear on grunge rock records, leaning on off-the-wall phrases such as "there was cabbage and cognac all over the place" (from "The Place"). (Then again, "I need to explode my love on you, why don't you love me too" could probably fit into a more-or-less "normal" rock song if someone had the inclination.) The entry of a bleating, random harmonica on "I'm Sorry No" is a surprise, and sometimes (especially on "The Place" and "I'm Sorry No") his singing veers into (but doesn't quite fall into) near-hysteria. It's not enough to mark the record as a significant statement, even within Jandek's own strange world. ~ Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide
'Newcastle Sunday'
Release Date 1/1/2006
Tracks 12
Label Corwood Industries
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
After about a quarter-century of impenetrable reclusion, Jandek took to the road for some shows in 2004 and 2005. Newcastle Sunday is a double-CD commemoration of one of those, done in England on May 22, 2005. It doesn't say it on the sleeve--he's rarely divulged any details other than track listings and lengths on his albums--but Jandek is playing with a rock band of sorts here, with Richard Youngs on electric bass and Alex Neilson on drum kit. That makes it more interesting, though barely, than the scads of other discs he'd unleashed in the several years or so prior to this 2006 release. Instead of the avant-country-blues guitar yowl that is often his trademark, there's more of a reverberant swirl to his guitar sound here. Too, while the backup musicians don't play anything resembling a conventional tune, they do add a depth of sorts as they follow the leader through his idiosyncratic, amelodic tunnels. As for the songs themselves, however, they're very much in tune with what Jandek's usually served up in his career: murky, despondent laments, assiduously avoiding anything hummable. It's not a greatest hits set (not that there were any to offer), and the lack of titles that have appeared on his "studio" discs will reinforce the impression that the man's making it up as he goes along. Once in a while a line will leap out and let you know that Jandek's demons run deep; "but I know when to kill you, dirty rotten stalking beast!" he agitates in "Mangled and Dead," followed by a welter of bashing drums. But overall these 85 minutes are a challenge even to lovers of avant-garde improvised music. ~ Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide
'Khartoum Variations'
Release Date 1/1/2006
Tracks 7
Label Corwood Industries
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
As if it's not enough for Jandek to be putting out four CDs a year, with Khartoum Variations he's essentially putting out an alternate version of an album he's already done (Khartoum, which preceded this one by just a few months). Even putting aside the very limited demand for alternate versions of Jandek songs, the very notion of "variations" is a laugh, considering that the singer-songwriter has such a limited palette of expression to begin with. The concept driving this album, however, really pushes the whole mindset driving his stranger-than-fiction discography too far. It's one thing to unleash a stream of dozens of extremely uncommercial, fairly unlistenable albums over a series of decades, as if it's an audio diary. It's another to revisit material that was, to most standard ears, probably not even composed or thoughtfully constructed in the first place. For those brave souls who can't get enough, however, Khartoum Variations does offer different versions of seven of the eight songs from Khartoum (one song on the "original," "Fork in the Road," is oddly missing). It seems entirely possible these alternates were done in the same sessions, or at least the same week; there's the same moaned-in-distress lyrics and discordant guitar work, though he seems a bit more apt to throw in rural blues-influenced flourishes, pinched high notes, and slides than usual. But even Jandek completists (and there are some such fans out there) may find their patience taxed, and judge the CD as superfluous. ~ Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Raining Down Diamonds -- it's a nice title, and a phrase that's quite a bit more uplifting than the music and words contained on this disc. Jandek does indeed sing about "raining down diamonds" on the first track, titled, oddly, not "Raining Down Diamonds" but "What Things Are." The way he enunciates the words, though, is not in wonder at a jewel-encrusted skyline, but with the lugubrious, elongated resignation of a Texan awaiting the hurricane of doom. Lumbering, super-low guitar notes -- so low it's difficult for the unschooled to tell whether they're produced by bass or standard guitar (and there are certainly no CD credits to clarify the matter) -- anchor this and other songs, as Jandek delivers his more or less typically passive-aggressive moanings. With just a few quizzical upward curling riffs thrown in, the effect is akin to watching a beached whale try to drag itself back to sea, the proceedings stretched out interminably with no real conclusion to the struggle. It's a 45-minute disc with seven tracks, but it could as well be one long song with arbitrary pauses of silence, so constant is the crawling-through-the-tarpits mood. ~ Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide
'When I Took That Train'
Release Date 4/12/2005
Tracks 11
Label Corwood
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
When I Took That Train is an appropriate title for one of the many umpteenth Jandek albums, as with this guy the journey's the thing, not the destination. Certainly he appears no closer to resolving his inner demons on this outing than he was when he first began putting out records about a quarter century prior to this 2005 release. It's just Jandek and defiantly discordant guitar on this 11-song, 43-minute disc, and as is par for the course, it defies observations that haven't already been made of much of his other work. Perhaps there's a greater focus on semi-spoken vocalizing here, but the absence of conventional melody or harmonious guitar strings remains constant. One especially creepy aspect deserving of mention is that there are quite a few lyrics here that are romantic pleas, or even come-ons. Yet they're delivered with such ghoulish death-rattle relish that it's hard to imagine anyone being enticed or seduced by them, or even sympathizing with them too heavily. Quite the contrary -- these are the kind of anti-valentines that seem guaranteed to drive potential lovers away in alarm, though Jandek, as ever, seems oblivious to that possibility. Most of us can only hope it's private acting-out therapy, and not the way the singer delivers such messages in real life. ~ Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
In January of 1969, the Beatles, as is well known, recorded enough material to eventually yield dozens of albums' worth of stuff, bootlegged and otherwise. What's that got to do with Jandek? Well, by the time of this 2005 release, so many Jandek albums were coming out, and so similar were they to each other, that you might have suspected they were likewise taken from a marathon series of sessions, all cut in the same month. Although they probably weren't, they certainly aren't as diverse as the Beatles' Get Back sessions. Relative to his previous output, the most interesting and unusual thing about Khartoum is its title, presumably in homage to the Sudanese capital of the same name. Otherwise it's much like so much of what's gone before: wholly acoustic (as many though not all of his records have been), discordant rambles with agonized downbeat singing. It's the equivalent of an audio diary, but one in which there's no refinement of thoughts and impulses from the brainwaves through the vocal cords and instruments and onto the tape. Jandek was by this time leaving the impression of a man in a state of suspended animation, always seeming on the brink of suicidal despair but never pulling the trigger. Like the boy who called wolf, the incessant repetition has made it harder and harder to sympathize or take seriously what at first seemed to be a cry for help. "But everyone knows I'm unstable, since you went away," he moans in the title track, followed by a high-pitch sound between wailing and crying. Sir, when have you ever not been unstable, in front of a microphone at least? ~ Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Satan donned his winter coat on October 17, 2004 when the mysterious Jandek made his first known public appearance at the Glasgow club the Arches -- appearing in conjunction with Scotland's Instal Festival, billed simply as a "representative from Corwood Industries." On that day, and backed by Richard Youngs on bass and Alex Nielson on drums, Jandek crossed the threshold from myth to reality, proving that the gaunt, enigmatic image that graced his record covers for over a quarter century was indeed the selfsame figure behind this vast body of strange, powerfully affecting music. For Jandek devotees, it's virtually impossible to separate what Glasgow Sunday is from what it represents -- not just a document of his landmark coming-out performance, it's also irrefutable proof of the man's existence, which both complements and complicates all that has come before it. On the one hand, the live Jandek experience is remarkable -- the music thrashes and soars like the flying pig it is, sharpening the visceral edge of his best recordings to achieve something vaguely approximating a recognizable form of rock & roll. But on the other hand, there's an inescapable sense of loss -- the Loch Ness Monster had been captured, Deep Throat unmasked, and the riddle of the pyramids solved. Of course, that leaves the tantalizing question of where Jandek goes from here, which may be more than enough to keep his devotees on their toes; after all, answers don't merely solve mysteries, they also create new ones. ~ Jason Ankeny, All Music Guide
