Pitchfork

In the suburban neighborhood of independent music, Jandek is the subject of Tom Waits' "What's He Building?"-- the guy in the shuttered, run-down house at the far end of the street that no one ever sees, let alone talks to. But every now and then, you can catch a fleeting half-glimpse of him passing by a window, or hear strange, sad noises emanating from the house late at night. It's not that he's scary or creepy or anything, he just keeps to himself a lot. All the time, actually.

Composer of some 28 (!) albums since 1978-- all released on what one assumes is his own Corwood Industries label-- nobody really knows anything about Jandek beyond his records. He's obscurity personified, and as such, quite a cult has sprung up around his artistic vision. But while his influence on other musicians is negligible at best, the music community holds him in an odd sort of esteem; hence, Naked in the Afternoon, a wide-ranging assortment of Jandek covers that certainly captures his particular charms and even sometimes manages to be listenable.

As with most small-label "tribute albums" or compilations, Naked in the Afternoon functions as a vehicle for exposure of artists on the hitherto unknown Summersteps label. In fact, there are only a few recognizable names on the track listing, so chances are that you're not going to be too interested in this album for the people that play on it. And since the selections cover such a wide range of Jandek's catalog, it's doubtful that any listener has heard even half the originals, so you're probably not going to listen to this album to see how the artists interpret individual songs. But Naked in the Afternoon still does a pretty good job of acting as a fractured prism through which one may get a glimpse of Jandek from the point of view of his musical peers.

Most of the musicians on Naked in the Afternoon begin with Jandek's sparse aesthetic-- poorly tuned, clumsily played acoustic guitar, low moaning vocals, a general eerie-basement-netherworld atmosphere-- and combine it with their own sound. Retsin's folky but still mildly dissonant "New Town" and Low's spooky floating-tone "Carnival Queen" complement Jandek's stark uneasiness quite well. Pipes You See, Pipes You Don't (featuring Will Cullen Hart of Olivia Tremor Control) are less successful, sticking a Jandek stand-in in front of OTC-like weird noisy overdubs. Some people focus on bringing out the songs' melodic sides; Kid Icarus turns "She Fell Down" into a sorrowful slice of lo-fi bedroom pop, and Ivory Elephant's quiet, mournful acoustic picking turns "Nancy Sings" into a genuinely pretty moment.

Some of the other tracks on Naked in the Afternoon take an experimental tack, with wildly varying results. Dapper (featuring Thurston Moore) leans toward the less enjoyable dissonant-noise side of Jandek, with four minutes of annoying clanging and banging that barely masks their ironic snickering. Bright Eyes, evidently taking the "tribute to Jandek" angle a bit too seriously, contributes not a Jandek cover but a pretty lousy sound-collage piece wherein disembodied voices attempt to explain the Jandek phenomenon. More successful are the predominantly ambient tracks, particularly Amy Denio's "Your Condition," her ethereal vocals hovering over a bed of industrial-sounding noise loops.

Finally, there are the tracks which sound nothing like Jandek whatsoever. Peter Weiss and Brian Charles do a rockabilly version of "Quinn Boys II," the Early Morning Initials turn "Remain the Same" into subdued two-tone ska, and the Goblins turn in a primitive garage-rock version of "War Dance."

So, no one's doubting that this compilation boasts diversity. Still, as a whole, Naked in the Afternoon doesn't rise above the level of "vaguely appealing curiosity," even if those unfamiliar with Jandek may find it to be an unusual but nonetheless effective introduction to his music.