Sinopsis: Even by the standards of underground and avant-garde music, Jandek is a man who has pushed the notion of deliberate obscurity to the outer limits. In 1978, an album called Ready for the House appeared, credited to "The Units" and released by Corwood Industries, a nascent label out of Houston, TX; a collection of spare, haunting songs dominated by atonal acoustic guitar and murmured (or mumbled) vocals, Ready for the House received cautiously enthusiastic reviews by the very few writers who bothered to cover it, and the same artist, now billing himself as Jandek (a San Francisco synth-pop group was using the name the Units), released a second album, Six and Six, in 1981. By 2004, Jandek had issued 38 albums, all following the same pattern -- a front cover featuring either a grainy photo of a tall, thin man with blonde hair or obscure snapshots of houses, empty rooms or street scenes; a back cover that was all back type on a white surface; music that was simple, obscure and harrowingly personal; no information on the artist; and distribution that suggested the albums weren't released so much as tossed to the winds to see what might happen. Almost in spite of himself, Jandek became the center of a small but fervent cult following, despite the fact he receives almost no radio play, doesn't tour, has made only one known live appearance (unidentified and unannounced), doesn't promote his releases, and refuses to talk to the media or even publicly acknowledge his identity (the man has given all of two interviews, both under difficult circumstances). Filmmaker and Jandek enthusiast Chad Friedrich's documentary Jandek on Corwood examines the enigma that is Jandek and takes a long look at both his music and what this artist's purposefully obscure approach to his work says about him and his audience. Jandek on Corwood features interviews with musicians and journalists Calvin Johnson, John Trubee, Byron Coley, Barry Hansen (aka Dr. Demento), Richie Unterberger, Phil Milstein, and many more; a representative from Corwood Industries who may be Jandek is heard in a brief telephone conversation (All Movie Guide).
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He encontrado este documental en eMule:
[DivX) Jandek On Corwood.avi 
Algo de informacion:
The history of popular music is littered with strange obscurities, but few come quite so strange – and none so willfully obscure – as Jandek. Since 1978, a man operating under that pseudonym has been recording and releasing albums that are singular in both their dark mood and their nearly complete rejection of traditional ideas about songcraft. It's likely that if you were left alone for a while with an out-of-tune acoustic guitar, the knowledge of (perhaps) a chord or two, and a broken heart, you’d produce something fairly Jandek-like – a dark, primitive minimalist blues-howl that, though hardly lovely, would be in its own way musical. As one fan asserts early in the documentary Jandek on Corwood, “the man isn’t talentless.”
You could produce something Jandek-like, yes. But what you likely wouldn’t do is what Jandek has done: Through the Corwood Industries record label, he has released 37 similarly melancholic albums in 26 years. During that time, the man behind Jandek has managed to almost completely hide himself from public view. He may or may not be a man named Sterling Smith (who signs Corwood Industries’ checks), who may or may not live in the Houston area (where Corwood keeps a P.O. box), and may or may not look like the gentleman pictured on the covers of various Jandek albums with titles like Shadow of Leaves, Blue Corpse, and Telegraph Melts. (Seth Tisue’s "A Guide to Jandek" is an excellent place to start exploring the myth in detail.) Everything about Jandek is pretty much a mystery -- and from such mysteries, cult figures are made.
It’s a damn small cult, though; a film that unmasked Jandek would be a meaningful event to tens, perhaps dozens of record label owners and rock critics. So Jandek on Corwood director Chad Freidrichs deserves credit for using the Jandek story to make a much more interesting film: A story about the way fans struggle to make sense of an artist without the usual assistance from the artist himself. The Jandek fans who speak on camera – record label owners, rock critics, and Dr. Demento, among others – all seem to suffer from various degrees of sensory deprivation. They all admit that Jandek’s obscurity is part of his music’s appeal, but the lack of information about Jandek has made them suspicious about the motives of their hero. Perhaps it’s all a hoax, they wonder; maybe Corwood Industries is a well-hidden subsidiary of some Bechtel-style conglomerate; maybe all the albums were recorded years ago and Jandek’s long since dead; maybe he’s spent serious time struggling with mental illness; perhaps he still does. His fans tend to imagine him as anything but a normally functioning human being, so when Jandek does something that demonstrates typical socialization – like work with a female vocalist on a truly gorgeous song titled “Nancy Sings” – everybody registers a seismic shock.
The Jandek myth is inherently fascinating, which gives Jandek on Corwood some immediate depth. But Freidrichs’ construction of the film makes it more than scraps of filmed record-geek chatter. For one thing, Jandek’s own music is in the background of nearly every minute of film, which gives it a slightly off-kilter, foreboding feel (in this context, Jandek’s music doesn’t sound so very different from the incidental music in horror films). And the establishing shots echo the shadowy, ghostly quality of the Jandek record covers – ill-lit rooms, a seashore on an overcast day, dilapidated houses in empty fields are all given to us as we move from subject to subject. Watching the film feels, appropriately, conspiratorial.
For the hard-core fan, the final 10 minutes of Jandek on Corwood might qualify as a careful-what-you-wish-for moment: A peek into Jandek’s identity that’s simultaneously more illuminating and more mundane than anybody would ever have expected. The lesson may be that the knowledge that’s being hungered for won’t actually change anybody’s interest (or disinterest) in the music. But regardless of how you come down on Jandek’s music, it’s hard not to be fascinated by the enigmatic world he both inhabits and cultivates. Every music documentary is about the cult of personality; in Jandek on Corwood the personality lacks a person, but the results are compelling nonetheless.
Hay tan solo una fuente completa con la que no consigo conectar y 2-3 fuentes mas intentando descargarlo
