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JDub
Orthodox Judaism Meets Classic Reggae Music
Martin Johnson, Wall Street Journal, December 23,
2004
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Matisyahu, the 25-year-old Hasidic Jew who is a rising star
on the reggae music scene, is no novelty. He is part of a
growing wave of young Jewish performers who have merged their
religious interests with contemporary musical styles.
His peers include So Called, a rapper who rhymes
in Yiddish; Balkan Beat Box, a group that blends hip-hop and
electronic dance beats with Israeli and Eastern European music;
and Golem, a post-punk rock band with a strong klezmer influence.
Matisyahu's blend of traditional Judaism and
classic reggae music isn't a reach, says veteran music journalist
Elena Oumano, who has covered reggae music for more than 20
years. "The connections between Judaism and reggae are
many and deep," she said.
According to Ms. Oumano, classic, or "roots,"
reggae is often regarded as a vehicle for the message of Rastafarianism,
the Jamaican-based faith that blends Marcus Garvey's pan-Africanism
with Old Testament theology. She added, "some Rastas
view themselves as the true Jews, among the Lost Tribes of
Israel with Africa as their Zion."
On his recently released debut recording, "Shake
off the Dust... Arise" (JDub Records), the blend seems
like a natural. Matisyahu's voice is deep and rich, a good
match for the warm, thick bass lines and the slow, scratchy
guitar riffs that form the foundation of the classic reggae
sound. His songs often deal with the journey within and tests
of faith, and they've found an enthusiastic audience in New
York.
On the night that many Lower Manhattan bars
were packed with baseball fans watching Game 7 of the Boston-New
York playoff series, a line stretched down the block outside
the Mercury Lounge, a key venue for rising stars. Men in black
suits, black hats and yarmulkes and conservatively dressed
young Jewish women made up a slight majority of the crowd;
the rest, mostly men in jeans and sweatshirts, looked like
the post-collegiate fans of jam bands.
One couple who has followed Matisyahu's progress
asked me about the Merc's sound system compared with other
leading clubs on the Gotham circuit like The Knitting Factory
and Southpaw, where he has played on several occasions.
It was easy to see why he has devoted fans;
Matisyahu's show was compelling and energetic, highlighted
by strong musicianship and keyed by virtuosic singing and
beatboxing, a sort of hip-hop scat singing wherein Matisyahu
deftly imitated the turntables and sampled percussion of a
hip-hop deejay.
Although his lyrics blend references to Bob
Marley and Shlomo Carlebach, Matisyahu's band mostly plays
very traditional reggae, the warm atmospheric sound of the
bass and guitar is punctuated by a trumpeter and percussionist.
At one juncture, a percussion solo interpolated some Eastern
European rhythms that excitied the Orthodox portion of the
crowd.
A few days later at his home in the Crown Heights
section of Brooklyn, Matisyahu discussed his unusual journey.
Named Matthew Miller by his parents ("Matisyahu"
roughly means "Matthew" in Hebrew), he grew up in
White Plains, N.Y., in a Reconstructionist Jewish household.
"I've always wanted to sing," he
said. "I participated in gospel choirs, performed in
theater productions — anything that would enable me
to sing." He left high school at 17 to follow the jam
band Phish around the country.
He was already a big fan of reggae music, and
he began performing in the parking lot outside of the concerts.
He finished high school at an alternative program in Oregon,
where he fell in with some musicians and began performing
in concert. However, he left that when he returned east to
study at Arts in Context, an undergraduate program at the
New School for Social Research.
Matisyahu
During his matriculation he embraced religion. "I had
this feeling of emptiness," he said. His Reconstructionist
rabbi gave him a prayer book that provided some solace. He
credits Dov Yona Korn at New York University, a Lubavitch
rabbi he met in Washington Square Park, with nurturing his
interest.
"I went from newbie to Hasidic in six months,"
he says with a gentle laugh. Matisyahu is tall, charming and
soft-spoken, and he enjoys telling long stories. He said the
lifestyle transition was particularly challenging. "You
grapple with the idea of the Torah as the work and the will
of God," he said. "In the past my idea of connecting
to God was going to a Phish concert."
Initially Matisyahu put aside his musical interests,
but they remained a deep yearning of his. As he moved deeper
into orthodox circles he began to realize that returning to
music wouldn't cause conflict, and about two years ago he
formed a new band with some of the music students he'd met
in college. "I got feedback from other rabbis,"
he said. "It felt like a good thing it affected people
in a positive way."
The words of the Lubavitcher rebbe clinched
it for Matisyahu: "He said the past generations were
about staying away from things, but our job is to take the
modern things and use them for holiness."
The singer was fortunate to find a label that
was sympathetic to his interests. JDub Records handles some
of his management to accommodate some of his needs (no Friday
night gigs, for instance). Since the release of the album,
Matisyahu toured both the East and West Coast, and he hopes
to perform in Europe this winter.
Matisyahu and his peers represent a new wave
of music emerging from young Jewish musicians investigating
their heritage. About 15 years ago, young jazz musicians began
a klezmer revival as a result of their cultural studies, and
labels like Tzadik continue to release artists, like Steven
Bernstein and Baysa Schechter, who are finding ways of merging
traditional Jewish music with contemporary styles.
"It's a way of re-encoding what it means
to be Jewish in contemporary culture," said ethnomusicologist
Judah Cohen. Mr. Cohen, an assistant professor at New York
University, has studied the emergence of these trends.
He said that Matisyahu and his musical colleagues
have a chance to make a big impact. Citing labels like JDub
and magazines like Heeb, he said, "There's a strong and
growing support system to nurture these acts. It could lead
to a much larger intercultural synergy."
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