"The longest-running, weirdest, loneliest enigma in popular music is a guy from Texas who calls himself Jandek." So begins a 1997 Boston Phoenix article by Douglas Wolk. From the bluesy, atonal music and haunting lyrics, to the artist's steadfast seclusion and sheer longevity, everything about this man intrigues. 25 years, 34 albums, and not a single live show or public appearance. Even the man's real name is a mystery. Jandek on Corwood is the documentary that explores this man, his world and his music. Jandek released his first album, Ready for the House, in 1978 on his own record label, Corwood Industries (he is, of course, the only artist on this label). The release went relatively overlooked until a review by Phil Milstein appeared in Op magazine in 1980. Bolstered by that slight measure of notice, Jandek set about releasing at least one album a year over the next quarter century of his unique brand of cacophonous rock and suicide-note blues. Slowly, word of Jandek spread through college radio stations and obscure fanzines. In 1985, writer John Trubee was approached by the editor of Spin to submit an article about the artist of his choice. This article spawned the only interview with the man behind the Jandek music and the Corwood Industries record label in which he speaks about the project. All subsequent attempts to glean any information on the subject have been declined. Jandek's music is difficult to describe. "I usually tell people that it's someone who has a completely untuned guitar and is just sort of meandering and yelling over it," says Angela Sawyer of Twisted Village Records in Massachusetts. Reviewers have an equally troubling time describing what a Jandek song sounds like. Certain words stick out in the multitude of reviews and articles that have appeared, like "spooky," "honest," and "wispy." Yet none can really capture the distinctiveness of Jandek's sound. More attractive than the unique music is the mystery. Who is this man who has persisted all this time, putting out at least an album a year, which 99% of the public will never hear? He refuses to promote his albums through live shows or interviews, yet for years advertised in independent music publications such as Op magazine. His ads were as sparse and aloof as the man and his music. A white box with black type stating "Jandek on Corwood; PO Box 15375, Houston, TX 77220." No graphics, no color, no information other than the artist's name, the label and the address. "Corwood Industries is an industrial giant in the Houston area dedicated entirely to manufacturing and disseminating Jandek musical material," muses writer Byron Coley. The only tangible evidence of the company is a P.O. box. This ambiguity raises the question of how the Jandek albums are financed. It is a safe assumption that he is not making a profit on the sales of these albums. Not only does the documentary Jandek on Corwood lay out these intriguing facts for its audience, it also explores their implications. How much does the mystery play into fans' appreciation of the music? Why do fans from diverse backgrounds come to similar conclusions about Jandek's biography despite the lack of any biographical information in which to ground these convictions? How much can we infer about the man behind the music from odd style and tone of his art? How much of each fan's image of Jandek is simply a reflection of him or herself? One of the biggest questions that remain (besides the identity of the artist) is how the Jandek story will end. Most Jandek fans hope he will keep releasing about an album a year forever. Perhaps not the most realistic prediction, but they just can't imagine the man behind the mystery putting a stop to it. Likewise, they can't imagine ever knowing the whole truth about this man, his life and his music. As the man at Corwood Industries wrote to Jandek on Corwood's producers when they began the film, "You may not get all the answers you want. It's better that way."