A while ago I was driving down the Jerusalem highway scanning the radio stations. On one frequency, a very intense dance beat was coming out of the speakers. She was about to turn the dial some more for a Jewish tune when the vocalist started. Shock of shocks, he was a heavily Hasidic singer, complete with Eastern European pronunciation. And what was he singing? “Kumee oy’ree ki va oy-reich…” from Rabbi Shlomo Alkavetz’s classic 16th century Sabbath poem, L’cha Dodi. Before the surrender of him began, I had been expecting something like “Oh honey, the way you move with me…”!
I had to ask the age old question: “Is this good for the Jews?” And I had to give the old answer: “Does hair grow on the palm of your hand?”
Of course it’s not good for the Jews, I thought. Poor unfortunate L’cha Dodi, dragged from the fields of Tsfat on Saturday eve and infected with Saturday night fever! Made with love by a Hassid, no less!
Speaking of Tsfat, I remember wandering into their Klezmer festival once and hearing a contemporary version of Psalm 126. It had a funk beat and the words just didn’t fit. The singer had to split the words in two, which left them more or less meaningless. Good for the Jews? Nope.
What bothered me about this supposed Jewish music? To put it briefly, besides the words, it just wasn’t. It was dance, trance, shmantz. It was modern, stimulating, suggestive. If you asked this music where it wanted to be heard, in the synagogue or in the sinners’ club, the answer was clear. If Jewish music is to be defined as such, it must have authentic Jewish roots. And a lot of contemporary music just doesn’t. Where was the source of this tradition? Nowhere. That’s what bothered me.
But, as Tevye reminds us, there is another hand. After all, she goes to listen to classical Hasidic nigunim (tunes). Then she goes to listen to Russian folk songs. Creepy, right? Weren’t those folk songs the “dance” of their day?
Even stronger, go see the religious children. They love contemporary popular music and all its villains. What these new Jewish groups are doing is taking what’s hot and putting Jewish content on it. Isn’t that what the original Hasidic nigunim were all about? If we don’t want to lose our young people in the culture war, we have to compete. Didn’t Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch bring the choral works of Lewandowsky and Japhet into the synagogue service, even though they were entirely in the style of German composers of the day, such as Schubert and Mendelssohn (needs an asterisk because he was halachically Jewish? )? So maybe I shouldn’t just calm down, I should applaud this phenomenon.
Expect. We are both right, I think. This is how I reconcile the difference and my fervent appeal to all who create Jewish music. The most important thing is to ask yourself: “To be or not to be?” That is the question.
Every song has a purpose, a message. It can be joy, faith, reflection, determination, anything. The message is in the melody and rhythm, which creates the atmosphere. It is in the text, which gives articulation to the message. And it is in the interpretation, which makes the message personal between the interpreter and the listener. If the message is consistent, if the music and the lyrics are a perfect union that inspires the performer, then you have a great piece of music. If the message is mixed, if there is a battle between the rhythm and the words, then we are in trouble. That’s why that “kumee oy’ree” was absolutely horrible. It was a mixed message of licentious sacred music with texts.
We love putting verses from the liturgy to music, and that’s wonderful. Composers have a special responsibility to ensure that the music conveys the message and colors the words with deeper meaning. Do that, and I’m fascinated, I’m inspired, even if it’s a contemporary style.
But be very, very careful with the verses. We tend to ask, “Do you think Adon Olam is going to this?”, when we would do better to ask, “What is this melody saying?” If it says Adon Olam, fine. If not, WRITE YOUR OWN WORDS. To stick with the message idea, if you have a great melody that can say something worthwhile (something human and real, not negative or immodest), say it your way. That satisfies.
The basis of Jewish music has always been to express what is in our hearts as a prayer to God. That expression must be congruent, pure, sincere. There is room in the world of Jewish music for great innovation, if it comes from our hearts, not from the charts.