October 2009

Dean Martin sings "Memories Are Made of This" as the autumn leaves rush by reminding us of the better days behind and ahead

I know of nothing else quite like this in any other art form.

You could argue that an artist such as Henry Darger, for example, was similar except that Darger's outpouring of art has identifiable characteristics to traditional art forms.

Jandek seems like nothing else--once you listen to him, it's as if he is the conduit for your potential alien abduction.  (Yeah, it's a bit scary.)

When Jandek performed at SxSW in Austin, Texas, in March, 2008, strange reports started screeching across the sky.  Friends of mine who experienced this show of pop culture's finest guru of reclusive celebrityhood sweat that the music, to paraphrase early Guess Who, sent shivers down their backbones.

Jandek has all the hallmarks of a true sociopath, except that I'm not really sure that he's not an intentional hoax, but if that's true, it's a different kind of hoax...almost a "HOAX".  

Whatever Jandek means I do have to admit that Corwood Industries is one of the greatest marketer of outsider cultism ever. If mystery is at the heart of your musical taste, then go to their website or give 'em a call.

Yes, Jandek gives me the creeps, but he's got me hooked.

In this day and age, punk rock is dying in little underground bars that only wish they could be compared to CBGB's. What’s surprising is the garage-rock revival--the closest label we now have to punk rock. The garage-rock revival is made up of several indie bands ranging from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs to Jet, with roots centered more in synth-punk than their founding fathers of the 60’s.

Of course, there are obvious exceptions to the “average” synth-punk based garage-rock band. Take Jack White’s bands—The Raconteurs and The White Stripes—both of which have strong blues-based roots behind them ( “My Doorbell” by The White Stripes, and “Carolina Drama” by The Raconteurs). Yet,in most of today's garage revival groups one can hear inspiration from the early days of Joy Division rather than the 13th Floor Elevators or the Electric Prunes.

By the time I was in the 4th grade, I had left the flat Oklahoma landscape behind and was living in East Tennessee in the suburbs of Knoxville, Tennessee.  My father was a preacher and my mother was an English teacher, and there we sat at the foothills of the Smokey Mountains.  

Unlike in the Land of the Buffalo, folks actually sang in East Tennessee, and had some of the purtiest voices ever imaginable. My mother was from a small town in East Tennessee, and like Dolly Parton, mother's voice was crystal-clear, pure, unblemished by popular trends.

In Knoxville, I began learning to play the violin in a symphony orchestra funded by the public school system.  I sang regularly at church and was taught vocal discipline by mother as she accompanied me on show tunes, folk songs, and hymns.  And I even began to learn the acoustic guitar.

In short, I had entered Tennessee, the most musical state in America. (When I make this statement even today, nobody ever seems to argue or disagree with me, so it must be true.)

Needless to say, even though I was listening to pop, folk, and rock, I was not collecting music on record. I don't even remember buying any records the whole time I lived in Knoxville. Perhaps that was because I was creating, performing and learning the music itself rather than trying to keep some part of it as a plastic product.

Although I don't remember the experience of buying vinyl in Knoxville, Tennessee, I do remember the voice and presence of Cas Walker.