FORT WORTH – When Jandek half-moaned, half-sang, "I don't know who I am," Saturday night, he and his audience became one.

Fans don't have a bloody clue who Jandek is – and up until recently, that was part of his charm.

For nearly 30 years, the Houston singer kept himself so shrouded in mystery he was dubbed the "indie rock Sasquatch." Starting in 1978, he released dozens of cryptic albums full of morose folk-blues dirges, but he refused to perform live, give interviews, or provide any information about himself.

In a world of fame-hungry musicians, Jandek simply wanted to make records and be left alone.

Or so it seemed. As his legend grew in wake of the 2003 documentary Jandek on Corwood, he decided to lift the veil. In 2004, he performed his first concert, and 25 shows later, he walked onstage Saturday night at the 250-seat Rose Marine Theater for his North Texas debut.

It felt like a mistake. Back when he was a hermit, the weird secret of Jandek was intoxicating. But now that he's here, standing onstage for all to see, Jandek is no longer Jandek: He's one more performer trying to entertain us with his music, and not doing a very good job at it.

To put it bluntly, Jandek is among the worst singers on earth.

Out of key. Out of tune. Off pitch. None of these phrases come close to describing the moaning, groaning voice that made the two-hour concert seem like an endurance test. Nearly as bad was his harmonica playing, which made Bob Dylan seem like Toots Thielman by comparison.

Your guess is as good as anyone's what Jandek's epic songs were about. One surreal tune seemed to be about being drugged and robbed in a hotel. Others sounded like jokes with the punch lines missing.

The show's one salvation was Jandek's ad hoc band, made up of upright bassist Ryan Williams (Baptist Generals), drummer Will Johnson (Centro-matic), steel guitarist Susan Alcorn, and ex-Bad Livers fiddler-banjoist Ralph White. For musicians who'd never played together before, they jelled nicely: Part free-form jazz, part avant-garde country, their jams gave the show an edge Jandek lacked.

Dressed all in black, his eyes hidden by a fedora, the rail-thin singer said nothing to the crowd of 100 or so and barely acknowledged them: When one fan screamed "Welcome to Fort Worth! OWW!" the singer grinned.

But as quick as Jandek's smile appeared, it vanished, and it was back to poker-faced business as usual.