1.
Last week it happened. Hasidic music reached the heart of prime time. And you wouldn't say the music of the artists who are returning to Judaism, we're already used to that, but the authentic Hasidic music of Moti Steinmetz.
This is gratifying.
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The circumstances are, of course, outrageous and outrageous, but the bottom line - and I say this without checking viewing and download data - many Israelis who would not have heard of this music without the Afula saga have now been exposed to it (and many Israelis who had never heard of Afula until now have now been exposed to it. But that's another story).
And anyone who tastes, even accidentally, of Hasidic music finds themselves in a completely different place. They are no longer in the discourse of disputes and politics, of "the state of Halacha" and "religion," they have moved into a different atmosphere, from the world of speech to the world of music.
Imagine what would happen if, in the middle of a heated debate about the supermarket law in Tel Aviv, for example, or about buses on Shabbat in Ramat Gan, or about railway work on Shabbat, they suddenly took a break and played a song from Shabbat chants. But a proper song, straight to the heart. Say, Carlebach's "Ka Ribon." Wouldn't that bring a knockout victory? Sorry, not a victory, because there aren't two sides here. Shabbat would win. And it's not that there aren't intellectual arguments that need to be heard in a debate about Shabbat. Of course there are. But still, when we're talking about a Jewish value that is so experiential and so full of emotions and feelings like Shabbat, it seems to me that a song would reflect reality more than any overwhelming argument.
A sacred and profound melody of words in Aramaic would have done the job better than any eloquent explanation in Hebrew.
2.
Recently, I even started to initiate a movement, which I hope will come true: I asked several artists to write a song about their personal Shabbat experience. The strictness of successful singers in Israel in observing Shabbat, while making enormous financial sacrifices, has recently become public and has impressed many.
It seems to me that if each of them wrote just one song about this thing, which at the simplest level is better for them than thousands of gold and silver – it could make a revolution. A revolution of rest. And if it’s hard to write an original song, no problem, you can perform a song from the family Shabbat table, something from your father’s or grandfather’s or great-grandfather’s house. Maybe that’s even better.
I remember how Meir Banai, a trembling man, told me at the beginning of his journey how difficult it was for him, as a convert, to write personal poems about the powerful experience he was going through. Everything seemed so kitsch to him, so he simply composed ancient piyyutim. Wonderful. That's how we got "Lech Eli Tshokhati.".
3.
I would like, with your permission, to return to the original Hasidic music, the one of which Steinmetz is a faithful representative. Its great flourishing in recent years is so gratifying. In an era of industrialized and simplified Hasidic music, of plastic arrangements, suddenly an artist arrives who produces the most Hasidic and conservative material – and is commercially successful.
This is really not obvious. Steinmetz is an extreme conservative. Really bold in his conservatism. In the choice of melodies, in the arrangements, in the form of presentation. And in this matter, credit goes to those who have been behind him from the beginning: Robbie and Naomi Bennett. He is an arranger, she is an artistic producer (and it seems to me that sometimes the other way around).
I don't know if when they set out they thought this music would break through beyond the boundaries of the Shteyim wearers. After all, the trend today, even for artists who in the past sang exciting Hasidic material, is to "break through" to new audiences. Which, unfortunately, almost always means, to belittle. I remember how much I enjoyed Shweki's first albums. Songs like "Beni, Toreti El Tsech," "Av HaRahamim," "Shakh Zra'u Kodeshech," "Ki HaTov," or even later songs like "Verao Benim Gevroto" or "Esra Beni Adam.".
And today? I think I'm no longer his target audience. He doesn't even try to reach out to me. Actually, I was too gentle. Let me put it this way: the music he's been creating lately is in many cases an insult to my musical sensibilities. I'm not sure that today's Shweki would perform a song like "Raham." And if he did, he would probably turn it into "Yalla, Raham.".
And here comes this Steinmetz and proves that it is possible otherwise, and the audience is pointing with their ears. Of course, we should also mention the wonderful duet with Yishai Ribo, a milestone in Steinmetz's career (and also a milestone in Ribo's career, but in his case it is already difficult to follow because of so many stones, without the evil eye). And by the way, unlike most people who love Steinmetz's music, I connect with it not because of his high, boyish voice, but in spite of it. I am not looking for high voices and tones, I am looking for a presentation full of emotion and good taste, and melodies that connect you to the words of the verses and prayers - and I find it in large quantities with him.
4.
And from Steinmetz's innocent poetry to someone from completely different realms: Bini Landau. It's doubtful that they've even heard of each other, Moti and Bini, but the truth is that they're both headed for the same place.
Landau's new album, 'Mbo', recorded in his home studio at Havat Ma'on, is one of the most exciting things heard here in recent years. Among them, Landau breaks his own records of power and depth. And that's really not easy after the previous album with songs like "Or Behirot HaDerek" and "Mishkan.".
I never know how to describe music in a newspaper, certainly not music that touches such deep places, so you'll have to listen for yourself. What you can do is focus on the words: "Little by little, almost almost, and every day a little more. Approaching, hiding, covering itself, brightening and rising again from the dust and shaking it off. Little by little, appearing suddenly and fleeing, for a moment radiant, suddenly gloomy, but even when it fades still burning. Because in our distraction another circle of despair breaks through, Eilat the dawn sets out towards its beloved to whom it is running, and obstacles that we said we would never cross, disappear as if they were nothing, out of the darkness a light emerges. And our feet are already standing on the peaks of the mountains, which until recently we stood before, wondering and marveling. Now that we are so close, we were dreamers.".
Wow. What beautiful writing. And that's just the lyrics, right? There's also a melody.
5.
And there is "Keter", a heartbreaking song, which describes the struggle of families with a not-so-young daughter who still remains in her loneliness. Remember where you first heard this song: "She cried in the night, and her tears on her cheeks, she has no comforter. Deep in the night her image was seen and through the silence her heart's cry rose. We sought to fill her lack, we called her, whispered her name, and in the secret of our hearts we cried with her. Get up, Roni, at night, to the head of the Ashmurot, pour out your heart like water. Do not lie to yourself and think that all this was in vain, does not every tear and every word count. All your rights are reserved in the king's treasury, together they will all be a crown for your head. And although there is no one who truly understands what is left to do, we did not stop wanting, and there are moments when all that remains is only faith in the nights, faith in the nights.".
Well, when it comes to Benny Landau, if you don't stop me, I'll transcribe all the songs on the album here.
There's something so real about his work, his personality. It's not just the wonderful arrangements and production, it's a kind of frequency that reaches places in the soul that others don't.
So here's just one more song. The last song on the album. It's not a song, it's a spiritual workshop, an entire life concept that's folded into a few lines: "And will we find the place again and spend the night there when the sun turns away from us? Will we still dream dreams and continue to climb ladders and descend? And here we are, placed on the ground, but the voice of our cry reaches heaven, and here we are, even when placed on the ground, the melody of our heart reaches heaven. And every time we look beyond the routine of our lives, we will suddenly notice that the place we are standing on is holy, and we will see anew everything around us, we will suddenly understand, the day has come, and in fact – the banal is holy.".
I wish Benny Landau would also have a separate performance someday on some hill in the southern Hebron Mountains – and then, thanks to the "Women's Lobby," the whole country would hear about these songs too.
• The column is published in the newspaper 'Bisheva'.'
