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The Jewish Music Manifesto

Thursday, March 1st, 2012

by Sam Glaser

The Beginning

Shlomo Carlebach and Debbie Friedman started something big. Much like the Internet freed visionaries to rip away the barriers of industry, these two composers wrote music from their hearts and delivered it directly to the people. They didn’t go to a conservatory to get degrees in composition. Nor did they spend six years at a cantorial school. They heard music in their heads, translated it for the world to access with simple guitar chords and sweet, non-operatic voices, and hit the road to any venue open to their spiritual message.

Their music was not klezmer, the schizophrenic happy/sad party music of the Ashkenazi old world. Nor was it weighty like cantorial and choral works by Louis Lewandowski or Ernest Bloch. It didn’t poke fun at tradition or lament shtetl life like Yiddish Theater or Allan Sherman. It wasn’t yet another repackaging of the Israeli hits born from the legacy of war. This was genuine American Jewish music, made for the people, by the people, with its roots in the radical belief that Judaism is a religion of life and celebration. North American Contemporary Jewish Music (CJM) transcends the burden of the Holocaust and pogroms. It is the music of a people born on the wings of eagles to a land that has offered themunprecedented tranquility, success and freedom. It is the music of a profound and unprecedented byproduct of the 20th century: the optimistic Jew.

Thousands of young Jews flocked to Shlomo and Debbie concerts and memorized their songs. Over the decades, the very institutions that mocked or discarded these seminal figures eventually found themselves enraptured by their melodies. Their music captured the ebullient mood of the youth and of course the youth grew to positions of power and made CJM normative. Young Jewish musicians, myself included, saw them in the limelight and realized, “YES…this is what we want to do!” This generation included the likes of Craig Taubman, Julie Silver, Dan Nichols and Rick Recht, groups like Kol Beseder, Safam and the Moshav Band. These artists were compelled to create recorded music that exceeded the production quality of their mentors while carrying the same message of the spirit. Their success has led to exponentially more composers in the now up-and-coming generation, who are creating innovative music that combines the best of hip hop, folk, rock and jazz with clever beat boxing, looping and generous helpings of studio magic.

Good News

Today this renaissance has created a music market that is bursting at the seams. Many of the countless Jewish albums released every year are audiophile quality; whereas 20 years ago most Jewish albums were poorly produced, nowadays the majority are comparable with any releases in the secular world. Among the Jewish music industry summits are such conferences as NewCAJE, Hava Nashira and the Reform Biennial where songwriters perform their latest and jam late into the night. Soundswrite, a Jewish music distributor now under the auspices of the Union for Reform Judaism markets nearly 400

CD titles on its website; Mostly Music, associated with the Orthodox movement, carries the work of over 1300 different artists. Just last week the annual Song Leader Boot Camp offered three full days of training in the art form to over 90 young singers and composers. The main CJM online outlet, Oysongs.com, boasts nearly 4000 songs available for download, not to mention the availability of the matching sheet music. “Jefe, would you say we have a plethora?”

Shrinking Resources

While the music business at large is suffering globally, Jewish music has its unique tzuris (pain.) Like all musicians, we generally pay our bills by virtue of our live bookings and sales of our music. After four years in the current recession we see that cultural arts events are often the disposable item on most synagogue and JCC budgets. Shuls nationwide are merging, most are cutting “extra” clergy like cantors and songleaders, and the transmission of the arts is falling into the hands of whichever parent volunteer can play guitar or wield a paintbrush. Our precious Jewish children are growing up without an awareness of their cultural history, their repertoire of music is stunted and access to active Jewish musical role models is increasingly limited. And that’s for the kids who ARE affiliated, who actually show up to the synagogue once in a while and attend Jewish summer camps.

A primary issue with the industry as a whole is the shocking abandonment of the physical delivery of music by consumers under 30 years old. Many young listeners do not even own CD players and have never paid for music. Their ipods hold thousands of songs “gifted” from friends or “found” on the Internet. It’s a great era to be a music consumer and a lousy one to be a provider. Over the past decade, brick and mortar record shops have disappeared with awesome rapidity. In the Jewish world, this trend is manifest in the disappearance of Judaica stores, and for the hearty survivors, an ever-shrinking music department. There are very few Jewish music distribution companies left and those that are still fighting the battle are finding that the profits are so low that it’s easier to walk away than sell their beleaguered enterprises.  This trend does not make the creation of quality new Jewish music less important.

Our silver lining in CJM is the possibility for widespread dissemination of our music and message via outlets like iTunes, YouTube, Twitter, Facebook and Spotify. Like never before we can get the word out about new projects, share behind the scenes adventures and concert footage with fans, and we no longer have to endure the tyranny of record labels or distributors dictating our marketing moves. That said, of the above outlets, only iTunes pays. My “day gig” is producing albums for a wide variety of clients. I used to tell them that they only had to sell about 1500 CDs to break even on production costs. That was based on the $15 per album that they could typically charge audiences after a concert, a goal that the average working musician could fathom. With iTunes, the breakeven point jumps to nearly 50,000 singles that must be sold. The new model has emasculated the long form album, the beloved collections that gave singers a dozen songs to make their artistic statements. Spotify, the rising star of subscription services, referred to as the “iTunes killer,” pays the artist .3 cents per listen. I shudder to do the math.

Opportunities

Sorry about the grim outlook. I have some ideas to brighten the future. My plan is to unite around an existing arts-focused non-profit and create The Contemporary Jewish Music Association, or something like that with a better sounding acronym. I will locate like-minded, deep-pocketed individuals who appreciate the musical gifts of Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach and Debbie Friedman and the revolutions that they inspired. These will be benefactors that understand that in addition to supporting hospitals and the hungry, we need to keep our greatest cultural aspirations alive. Under a single umbrella we will create a collection of entities that will lift the profile of CJM by providing publicity, enhance composing, recording and performance opportunities for artists and allow for unprecedented recognition for accomplishments. I plan to be the CEO, my wife will be CFO and we’ll hire a Jewish music loving Ivy League MBA as our COO. Overhead will be minimized and accountability and transparency will be top-notch. I beleive the effect on the Jewish world will be nothing short of radical, transforming it from an afterthought to a bonafide industry alongside our Christian music counterparts.

(See February 2012 Newsletter sidebar for my wish list of the initial twelve branches.)

I like to dream big. I’ve been doing so since the age of seven when I started writing songs about global issues and facing mortality. When I was twelve I started preparing for my Bar Mitzvah. I joined our Sinai Temple Shachrit Choir, studied Torah andHaftorah trope with our organist Aryell Cohen, and mastered Mussaf with Cantor Joe Gole who took me under his wing. I had to learn the portions both for my LA ceremony and the one that followed a few weeks later at the holy Western Wall. One night my mom recognized my accomplishments in that short period of time. She came into my bedroom as I negotiated our ancient texts and said, “Sammy, if you keep pursuing your goals like you did this year, there is nothing that will stop you.” Thanks Mom…I’ve been a workaholic ever since.

It’s tempting to walk away from the music business at this point. Most of my peers have done so. My guitarist recently said to me, “I’m just glad that I got to be alive when it was possible to make a living as a working musician.” The problem is that I have learned to love this small, underfunded CJM genre. I have all my eggs in this fragile basket. It’s not enough to help CJM to survive; I believe the Jewish world needs it to thrive. Rabbi Natan Lopez Cardozo teaches that the great King Chizkiyahu was supposed to become Mashiach and put an end to the suffering of the Jewish people. But he couldn’t sing and therefore couldn’t inspire his offspring. “There is no future to Jewish learning and Judaism without a song and a smile.”

Music unifies a disparate group like nothing else. In my opinion, meaningful, well-produced Contemporary Jewish Music is the most powerful expression of our people. Last week during his LA visit, the Chief Rabbi of the UK, Lord Jonathan Sacks told me, “Sam, more than we need sermons, we need your music to unite our people. You have the unique ability to take what has been and breathe new life into it. While Torah always stays the same, music must change. We need your new music, your shir chadash, to keep Judaism alive.” Chief Rabbi used two songs that I recorded in for his “Israel at 60” anniversary album that was given to over 260,000 families throughout Europe. He’s a powerful fan. I only reached him because I was invited to play a high profile UK event. I got that gig from performing at a US based event of an organization that sadly went bankrupt on the heels of the 2008 recession. If I were new on the scene today, I doubt I would have had the chance to make an impression. I’m so grateful that I’ve had the fortune to release over twenty CDs of the music of my dreams and travel to fifty cities a year singing that music for happy audiences. I think the next generation of talented Jewish musicians deserves the same opportunity.

Most of you are thinking…Sam is living in Fantasyland. Not true…I much prefer Tomorrowland. My friends, millions of dollars are given away by Jewish benefactors everyday.  We just need one. Theodore Herzl said “If you will it, it is no dream,” and look where that got him!  Thanks to Shlomo and Debbie for the music, for striving against all odds, for giving us a career and a dream.

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The Reform Biennial: The Good, the Bad and the Plenary

Wednesday, December 21st, 2011

 by Sam Glaser

 I am writing this newsletter on the road during my 2011 Chanukah tour. It is as varied an itinerary as can be imagined in the Jewish world; a whirlwind of performing for Reform, Conservative and Orthodox synagogues, religious and day schools and a retirement home. This is my eighteenth Chanukah on the road, a time that is often difficult since I am gone for weeks rather than my typical every-other-weekend schedule, but is also the period when I relish in the joy of having so much time to interact with out-of-town friends old and new and reflect on the year gone by.

I began this adventure at the new Gaylord National Convention Center, a mega hotel complex just south of Washington DC that easily housed the 6000 delegates of the Reform Biennial. I have performed at several of these events but this one felt special. It ran like a well-oiled machine with a record number of participants and myriad opportunities for study, conducting the business of the movement and power-schmoozing. An impressive list of my musical peers was on hand to add a creative touch to the proceedings and a well stocked exhibit hall of Judaica from around the world was a shopper’s delight. I couldn’t walk more than a few feet without being embraced by the membership and clergy of synagogues where I have performed over the years.

 There were two highlights of the conference for me. One was the climax of Craig Taubman’s standing-room-only concert when he invited me to the stage to sing a spiritual version Maoz Tzur. It takes a big man to open up a very tight set list to let another artist share the spotlight. For me, it was a moment of redemption. My own concert earlier that day was scheduled during a plethora of breakout sessions and so the numbers in the audience were limited. I have a suspicion that those individuals that program the concert slots aren’t quite sure what to make of their frum, tzitzit-wearing friend Sam, in spite of the fact that most of my shows on my annual 50 city tours are in non-Orthodox synagogues. That day happened to be my birthday, and I was questioning the wisdom of accepting the invitation to attend in the first place rather than celebrating with my family. Having the chance to share in the intense spirit of a packed house for a show unopposed by other programming gave me and hopefully the audience a powerful high. I’m grateful to Craig for this gift.

 The other highlight was a pair of late night jams. I had just finished a midnight hour and a half kumzitz where I led a continuous medley of all tunes Jewish, Beatles and Broadway. With little strength left after such a long day I wandered through the lobby on the way back to my room. There I saw a group of the new wave of immensely talented young Jewish musicians who had just been kicked out of the lobby bar after last call. We started singing and were asked to find somewhere else to make noise. I dragged them back to the stage where the other kumzitz had just ended and we began another few hours of going around the circle sharing new musical creations with one another. Every musician had either a keyboard, guitar or percussion in hand and lent their voices to one another’s songs. The collaboration was organic and the support and love for one another was palpable. I must say I have renewed hope that in spite of the economics of downloads, loss of our distributors and financially ravaged synagogues, there is a HUGE future in Jewish music.

Plenary sessions can be inspiring or a grind. Imagine attending two three-hour banquets per day but you don’t even get the tepid chicken dinner. These were the programs where Obama, Eric Cantor, Ehud Barak and Natan Sharansky held court. I’ve been to enough Biennials and GA conferences to predict the exact script of each of these speeches. The politicians impress the audience with teleprompter readings of exactly what the constituent population wants to hear, pausing at preset moments for applause and standing ovations, posing for the photo with the movement leaders and then running to the waiting helicopter. Yes, it’s exciting to be in the room with the political giants of our day. But the succession of humorless soundbites leaves one wishing for a left turn, a bit of levity, a novel idea. The rest of the plenary sessions were chock full of congratulations for incoming or outgoing movement executives, showcasing programming and waiting for videos that usually didn’t work. No one was forcing me to be there. I attended the plenaries because I deeply want to see innovations, to be inspired, to feel hopeful for this largest movement on the American Jewish scene.

 A few things really got my goat. Over the days of the conference I heard many times references to the Reform’s iconic principle of “informed choice.” Informed choice requires that the chooser have all the possibilities at his or her disposal. It also requires a Jewishly educated laity. Real pluralism tolerates and engages all aspects of the spectrum of the Jewish people. Instead, I found many speakers to be defensive, taking a stand against tradition and using the word Reform to excess. In other words, rather than just say, I’m a Jew, the phrase continuously repeated was, “since I’m a Reform Jew,” “as Reform Jews we…” or, “I am proud to be a Reform Jew.” Jewish pride is great, but in many cases the speakers missed the chance to bring the conference a feeling of belonging to the greater whole of our glorious people.

 This idea of pluralism also must take into account the presence of Reform Jews with right wing leanings. I heard closet conservatives whispering amongst themselves in fear of political backlash. The AIPAC meet and greet was nearly empty in spite of the free cocktails. Applause for Republican Congressman Eric Cantor was guarded. Discouraging words are seldom heard in the interest of political correctness. Where is the famous Reform openness and tolerance here?

 While I’m venting, the basic food groups of the Jewish menu such as tefillin, respect for the laws of Shabbat or kashrut were absent. I asked if there were any provisions for kosher meals and the few provided had been sold out in advance. No kosher deli booth among the multitude of dining options, nothing with a hechsher for the many exhibitors, visitors and attendees who might appreciate such a concession. I lived on store bought bagels and salad for the duration of the conference. Attendees had to reach into their wallets over the course of Shabbat and cell phones were plentiful. I heard lots of calls for outreach…what would it hurt to have some outreach towards those on the traditional end of the spectrum?

 I know some of my readers are thinking: “you idiot! If you don’t like it, go to the Chabad convention next time.” But that’s missing the point.   I have seen in my short career the “running for the exit” of my generation. The URJ youth director informed me that 80% of Reform kids leave Judaism after Bar/Bat Mitzvah. Gone. For good. Only 15% of those that identify as Reform Jews report any involvement at all in Jewish organizational life. More than half say they have not attended a synagogue within the past year and cannot read Hebrew. Ours is a generation that needs the power of a living Torah and the skeletal support system of mitzvot on which to hang the flesh of our spiritual lives. If it works for Orthodoxy throughout the millennia, there must be something to it. A strong Reform Judaism that has a grasp of these crucial fundamentals and includes them in the wealth of Jewish choices offered will be a movement that will attract American youth.   My friends, this isn’t Reform vs. Conservative vs. Orthodox. Any failure of the Reform movement is the failure of Judaism.

 I was brought up in the Reform/Conservative realm and can attest to the fact that there is a way to ensure vibrant Judaism in the present and continuity in the future. Reform Jews are amongst the most dynamic, forward thinking, innovative and challenging of our people. They have the civic passion of Avraham while Orthodox Jews have the stringency of Yitzchak. Now is the time to come together in balance like Yaakov, with vibrant education, great music, and a love rather than fear of tradition. I know personally the power of Reform camping, prayer, social justice. I sang into the night with the new generation of teens and twenty-something leaders, educators and musicians. What’s done is done…but let’s get this new generation hip to mitzvot, giving them tools to have a full Shabbat every week, rejoice in the power of the holidays, to see that tefillin are cool and that opting for “pork sliders” and shrimp sushi is opting out.

 The departing leader of the movement, Rabbi Eric Yoffie, gave a fascinating presidential sermon on Shabbat. His daughter has become a Modern Orthodox Jew. He said the following:

 “When I look at Adina, I see someone who has put God and Torah at the center of her life. In her high school days, she would often challenge me. Judaism is of transcendent importance or it is not, she would say. And if you don’t believe in your gut that Judaism matters to an existing God, why bother?…Do I regret her religious choices? Absolutely not. She has chosen a path that I would not choose, but it is a worthy path. We continue our discussions, which are both vigorous and loving. And every time we do so, I think about the need to respect religious approaches other than my own. This is a subject on which I need reminding, from time to time. I am a combative person; I see myself as a defender of Reform Judaism; I am quick to offer a fierce defense of my liberal principles. But sitting across from my daughter and knowing the thoughtfulness of her convictions, it is respect that I feel and express; and I remind myself to stress the authenticity of my beliefs rather than what I may see as the shortcomings of hers. This above all is what I have learned from my daughter: that if we hope to engage our children, we will need to provide those answers – answers that are religiously compelling and intellectually engaging, as well as authentically Reform…this means making it clear that as Reform Jews, there are things that God expects of us. This means saying that ritual opens us to the sacred and gives structure to the holy. This means affirming our belief that if ritual dies, Judaism dies; it is only a matter of time. This means proclaiming that Shabbat is a God-given duty, even as we know that there are many, many ways for a Jew to fulfill that duty.”

 May Rabbi Yoffie’s wisdom permeate liberal Judaism. Let us give our kids real “informed choice” and let the chips fall where they may. Let us open the gates of tolerance to all branches of Judaism and not just to LGBT’s and the intermarried. If any movement in Judaism is going to make radical changes it will be Reform. They have done so as they have shifted to a Zionist platform and evolved from Classical Reform to a movement that was able to adopt the latest batch of Ten Principles and davens with the beautiful Mishkan T’fila siddur. I’d like to be first in line to work with the Reform movement on a task force to create true pluralism, informed choice and full spectrum Jewish education. It may be too late for the millions that have chosen to disregard the chosen people. But for those incredible young folks who were singing with me at Biennial into the wee hours of the night of their love for God, let’s give them a fighting chance at having Jewish grandchildren. Is it fair that only Rabbi Yoffie be assured of such a luxury?

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Ode to the 8-Track

Wednesday, May 11th, 2011
by Sam Glaser

 

8TrackGrowing up in suburban America during the 60’s included a certain rite of passage: as you drove down the freeways, if you wanted to hear your favorite songs, you needed an 8-track tape player in the dash.  In one clunky cassette about the size of six iphones, a CD worth of material would play in gorgeous stereo. There were a few caveats.  You couldn’t rewind.  And when you least expected it, a metallic piece of tape signaled that it was time for the tape head to switch tracks.  That meant a somber moment of silence in the middle of movements, sometimes in the middle of your favorite song.  It wasn’t ideal but it was certainly more graceful than trying to balance your record player when changing lanes.

 

About three times a year our family would load up into our nine passenger Olds Vista Cruiser, equipped with skylights, a 450cc V8 and a trusty tape deck.On our way to Lake Tahoe, Arizona or Colorado we would sing at the top of our lungs with our favorite thirty-two 8-track tapes. That’s all that would fit in the black vinyl carrying case and that’s about all the music we owned.  We had several Beatles albums, War, Tower of Power, Carole King, Roberta Flack, Joni Mitchell, Temptations,vista cruiserShostakovich and Beethoven’s 5thsymphonies and assorted musicals.  This was also the car that became my college ride at the University of Colorado, Boulder.  A favorite collegiate pastime was stuffing the car with a dozen freshmen from the dorms, cranking the tunes and doing donuts in the Safeway parking lot on snowy nights.

 

I’d like to share an epiphany I had at an LA Philharmonic concert last week.  It was a perfect, sunny spring Sunday and I was knee deep in over thirty vocal arrangements for the half dozen CDs I am juggling for clients.  I was about to embark on 25 hours of background vocal sessions with some of the finest singing specialists that I know.  These sessions aren’t cheap to run and I wanted to make sure that every piece was ready to go with all the vocal parts, lyrics and recording templates prepared.  Midday I glanced at my calendar and remembered that the LA Phil was presenting a matinee of Beethoven’s 5th at 2pm.  One voice in my head said: “Sam, just buckle down and get these charts done.”  The victorious voice said: “you deserve a break today…” I hadn’t heard this immortal masterpiece in years and I couldn’t pass up the pleasure of hearing it performed by one of the greatest orchestras in the world in Disney Hall, one of the greatest concert halls ever constructed.

 

No, I didn’t have tickets.  And no, that doesn’t matter. There are always seats.  I have a maxim that is particularly relevant in an entertainment town like LA: you don’t get in the show if you don’t go.  In other words, “if you build it, he will come.”  I found an amazing seat for cheap just beforeDisney Hallthe show started and was treated to a few hours of symphonic bliss. Beethoven’s 5thaffects me in the most visceral way. It’s just not that I share my birthday with the great composer…I have memorized every last passage intimately and during the concert I had to force myself not to conduct.  I was even ready for that measure mid-movement when my family 8-track tape would clunk as it switched to the next section.

 

Here’s the epiphany.  I grew up getting to know certain pieces of music very deeply.  The power of knowing every crevice of my records or the wow and flutter of every 8-track creates an unmistakable magic when I revisit that music.  Repetition and commitment deepens the experience…and isn’t depth what we want out of life? After the concert I wandered downtown LA uplifted, recharged and filled with a sense of possibilities.  Rather than go right back to work I crossed the street and visited the Museum of Contemporary Art.  What a collection!  I must be a fan since I knew the names of most artists without having to look at the descriptions. The most powerful (and valuable) pieces of art are those where the creator limited him or herself to a certain medium and theme.  Rothko’s rectangles of sultry color. Jackson Pollack’s monochrome splatters.  Jasper John’s maps and flags.

 

My children on the other hand have grown up with unrefined chaos in the form of millions of YouTube videos, online games and the App Store.  All geared for a five-minute attention span.  They don’t leave home without the iPod/iPad.  Unlimited songs for free forever. And thousands more appearing daily.  It’s impossible to keep up with what’s new and knowing what’s hot is increasingly irrelevant.  There will be something hotter in a few hours.  With the landscape changing so radically everyday, there is no opportunity to make a deep musical connection.  Other than my songs, which my kids are forced to listen to just by living here, their musical diet is as fickle as KISS FM.ipad2

 

The repercussions are significant.  Are our kids processing relationships in the same way?  Instant satisfaction online does not translate well in “meat-space.”  A great conversation takes hours to nurture before one reaches revelatory territory.   So too with friendships, professional experience and reputations. There is no quick fix for the test of time.  If we didn’t kick the kids out of the house, their play dates would consist of observing each other texting, playing video games or watching The 70’s Show.  My son tries to hide his distraction when his phone vibrates with a new text. Over 2500 a month.  I smile as he fumbles for where he left off in the discussion.

 

One of my favorite rabbis, Natan Lopes Cardozo from Jerusalem, comments on the essential difference between Beethoven and Bach.  Bach was a dutiful adherent to the “rules” of music in his days.  In spite of his discipline we hear vast creativity within the confines of this Baroque construct.  Beethoven, on the other hand, broke with these accepted rules and liberated music much the way the Beatles rescued rock and roll from the doo-wop of the 50’s.  Not to dis ole Ludwig V. but there is a certain power in Bach’s approach.  Cardozo quotes the philosopher Goethe stating, “In limitation does the master really prove himself and it is only the law which can provide us with freedom.”

 

Does this sound familiar?  As we march from Pesach to Shavuot, echoing the steps of our forefathers on their way from Egypt to Sinai, we relive the reality that true freedom is within the confines of Torah.  Learning a musical instrument takes tremendous discipline and hours of practice.  Learning to live as a Jew takes a lifetime of study to master the instrument of the soul. Like Bach, within the yoke of our Torah, we compress our creativity; we deepen our context and explode in our human potential.

 

ShavuotSinai was our wedding day.  Our exclusive covenant with the Creator of the Universe. Marriage is the melding of two hearts together into an altogether new entity.  Thanks to the exclusion of all other potential mates, a couple has the chance to blossom into a symbiotic oneness.  Thanks to our willingness to discard idol worship and focus on the laws of Torah, we explode into the full blossoming of our potential as members of God’s holy nation.  It’s no surprise that Jewish law is called halacha, or path.  It’s a pathway, not a goal in and of itself.  By striving to sensitize ourselves to this path we hear God’s voice, feel God’s love supporting our every step.

 

Once a week we have the chance to recreate our commitment to our heavenly “spouse.” I have led nearly a thousand Shabbatons over the past twenty years. That seems to be my specialty, and anyone who has attended can testify that I take the celebration of Shabbat very seriously.   I, too, am driven to distraction, overwhelmed by data, news, economics and electronics. My friends, Shabbat is the very antidote to the iPod.  It’s the antidote to shallow connections with people, God, music, life.  Thanks to the restrictions of the day we are forced to deepen our focus on those things we can do, which are praying, eating, and spending quality time with one another.  That’s it.  Deep interactions, deep (and sometimes very long) prayers, great food accompanied by song, stories and laughter.  Shabbat serves as a bookend to a week of superficiality.   It gives context to the chaos, a refuge from the rat race.  Now I can’t imagine life without it.

 

Sixty years ago the 8-track tape made our favorite music portable.  A product of a simpler time, it allowed us to deepen our experience with the few dozen “desert island” albums we couldn’t live without.   It sowed the seeds for other such miraculous revolutions that allow us to keep our music close at hand.  Now I have a compass, chronograph, 12 feature films, a siddur, bible, hundreds of books, GPS, a word processor, camera, newspaper, web-browser, games and a jukebox in my pocket.  Yes, it’s a phone too.  Funny how with 1500 songs I still listen to the same 32 albums.  I have 4,300 Facebook friends but I still call my parents with big issues.  I love having choices. I don’t want to go back to my 8-track repertoire. But I’ll take my friendships deep, my food cooked with love and my God on God’s own terms.

 

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The Songs We Sing (Interview)

Wednesday, March 30th, 2011

by Yossi Zweig

SamJeansJE Magazine: Shalom Sam. Thanks for taking a minute while you’re on the East Coast. The opening quote on your website calls you “the hardest working man in Jewish music.”  How did you get that title?

Sam Glaser: Since 1992 I have been on tour to an average of fifty cities a year. Almost 19 years now.  It makes me tired just thinking about it!  I tend to be out of town every other weekend. When I’m not on the road I have a great day job: I run a recording studio where I produce albums for clients.  I also try putting out one of my own a year.

 

JE Magazine: How do your wife and kids handle that?

SG: I’m a full time musician and I have to put food on the table!  I individually take each of my three kids with me when I am on the road…it’s a wonderful bonding time for us. I try to have quality time with them everyday I’m home.  My wife and I are good about looking out for each other. We have “date night” every Wednesday. That seems to maintain Shalom Bayit (peace in the home) better than anything.

JE Magazine: I’ve spoken to some of your fans…some of which came to the show in Sam Glaser t-shirts. Your website says you have a devoted following in all denominations. Now that I’ve seen them in person I believe it.

SG: I grew up in a Conservative synagogue, half of my concerts are in the Reform movement, I became Orthodox, my brothers became Chassidim and my parents became Chabadniks. I’m all over the map. I play all types of synagogues and make the rounds at JCCs. I’m a regular at Jewish conferences, performing at Biennial, OU, GA, Cantors Assembly, CCAR, Aish, Hadassah, CAJE, for any Jew that moves. My goal is to get people together. Enthusiastic about their heritage. Close to each other and close to God. As far as I’m concerned we’re one big happy family.  I’m the oldest of four boys and I’ve always been a “pleaser” type person, trying to make peace.  I guess it’s my destiny.  It’s a real blessing when I play a gig where all the synagogues in any given community collaborate on producing my concert.

JE Magazine: I know we hear your music all over the place but some of our readers probably don’t know it’s yours. Can you give us some ideas where we hear your stuff?

SG: Well, I have sold over 100,000 of my CDs and hopefully they are getting around. Other Jewish artists sing my songs as well.  New York’s JM in the AM had two hour-long shows of my music recently. Thank G-d we have dozens of great Jewish radio/internet stations around the country.  Have you heard about Jewish Rock Radio?  I’m a featured artist and it’s available as an App on the iphone…how cool is that?  Aish.com uses a lot of my stuff. Jewish Life Television plays a lot of my videos.  I’ve been on several of the Reform movement’s Ruach CDs. I’m on the Chabad Telethon frequently. Let’s just say that I almost never say no.

JE Magazine: What about TV stuff? Didn’t you used to do the music for the Dodgers?

SG: I spent much of the 80s and early 90s chasing that dream. Composing for commercials, TV movies, the WB Network, ESPN.  I’ve never cared much for televised sports but somehow I became the sports music guy in LA for a while.  I did music for the Dodgers, Angels, Lakers, Clippers, World Cup of Surfing, Warren Miller Ski Films. Those were the good old days, before music libraries took over, before Frostwire and everybody having a studio on their Mac. I must admit that the scoring business was somewhat empty…I felt like everything I was writing was disposable. From that perspective, I don’t miss it. I still get a soundtrack project in the studio from time to time and I appreciate the challenge.

JE Magazine: And Jewish music is filling that spiritual void?

SG: Bigtime. When I come into a city I feel totally uplifted by the audiences.  They empower me to inspire them.   It’s a symbiotic thing.  It’s that mixture of adrenaline and spontaneity and all the stars colliding. What a rush. I have a selection of a few dozen workshops I offer when I lead a Shabbat program.  I can’t explain how but there’s a power that an audience has to suck the right words out of me.  Obviously I have notes when I need them but I go into this heightened plane where I just deliver.  Playing the clubs back then was dehumanizing.  You did your 40 minute set and then got chased off the stage like cattle so the next wannabe’s could set up their gear.

JE Magazine: What’s on the horizon for you?

SG:  I have so much new material that I’m recording.  It’s got me totally stoked.  That’s California talk for really excited.  I want to release a new CD every quarter.  But my wife would kill me!  Last year I released The Songs We Sing Volume 2.  It’s a 28 song greatest hits of the Jewish People collection that took me two years to complete.  When I recorded that I also did Volume 3 at the same time.  Volume 3 is all Jewish dance music. My band doesn’t want me to release it cause they’re afraid we’ll never get booked anymore…people will just buy the CD!  I still need to do final vocals…it’s coming soon.  Next up is a secular album dedicated to my dad. It’s called Father’s Day and has songs about fatherhood, aging parents, life and loss.  God willing out this June. My next album of my original Jewish music is also in the works.  It’s called The Promise and focuses on our relationship with Israel.  After this interview I’ll play you a few cuts.

JE Magazine: I’ve been listening to your stuff since a friend gave me Across the River.  I still think it’s your best work.

SG: That was 1997!  Actually I just listened to it and I’m still proud of it.  People always think that the first album of mine they got into is the best.

JE Magazine: I think it’s safe to say that your albums are among the best produced and most heartfelt in the Jewish world.  It’s not simple music.  It’s real and powerful stuff. I hear just about everything and your CDs really tell a story and stand the test of time. But you got so many albums… this new one was number 21!?  Which ones would you recommend for newcomers?

SG: Well, first of all, thank you!  I guess I’d start with Presence and The Bridge. They were my first albums freed from the limits of tape machines.  You have to understand that unlimited tracks with digital recording was like a miracle for us producer types.  Finally I could get these sounds in my head out in the world without any technological compromises. Hallel is ideal for a long drive.  If you like nigunim (songs without words) and a more traditional Jewish sound, my Nigun/Voice of the Soul is really rich and features RebbeSoul and singers from Blue Fringe, Moshav and Soulfarm. For kids, my Rockin’ Chanukah CD, Kol Bamidbar and Soap Soup should do the trick. On my website you can buy 3 and get 1 free. Shameless plugs!

JE Magazine: Any final words for our readers?

SG: First of all, many thanks to JE Mag and to you for getting the word out about new Jewish music. For your readers: Love your Judaism!  Celebrate Shabbat!  Have an attitude of gratitude. Don’t steal music. Buying downloaded songs is cool but keep in mind that many artists like me intend to have their art taken in as a whole…you wouldn’t only buy 1/10th of a painting!  Try the whole album…it’s how I meant for you to hear my stuff.  I love getting feedback.  Write to me at sam@samglaser.com and say hello!

 

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Better Run Away

Monday, February 28th, 2011
by Sam Glaser  

max partyMany a morning I bask in the sunlight on our front porch surrounded by fragrant jasmine, birds of paradise and bougainvillea. It’s my power spot for the Shachrit prayers.  I’m bound up in my tefillin, enveloped in my tallit and connected to the Source of all creation. This sunny spot conceals me just enough from the few passersby on our quiet street but some know to look for me and wave as I shuckle back and forth.  Our new neighbors have two adorable kids, the oldest a loquacious, blonde three-year-old with a favorite game. While I daven I can’t help but notice him try, often successfully, to run away from the house and down the street as his nanny panics and bolts after him.  Every time he gets a little farther and she freaks out a bit more.

We did the same thing with our dad.  We’d stand in front of his comfy leather easy chair and he’d trap us between his knees saying, “run away!”   We’d wait for the trap to open and before we could charge out of his grasp he’d grab us with his enormous hands and whisk us right back where we started.  Every third or fourth time we’d actually escape, sometimes with too much velocity and crash to the floor.  We’d pick ourselves up, stop laughing and try it again.

Of course I performed the same shenanigans with my own precious offspring and when they grew bigger, made an art form out of chasing them around the house.  Any Soap Soup fans know well our game of Better Run Away (Before I Grab You) as codified in the song by the same name.  The kids know that when I catch them I freeze and count, “five, four, three, two, RUN,” giving them time to escape.  As they grew older and could outrun me I devised a corollary to the game called Anger Bottle.  I drink most of the water out of a 12 oz. plastic bottle and then huck it at them with all my

sam bday cakemight.  It has to have just enough water to serve as ballast for a good throw but be empty enough that it scares the pants off them when it strikes the wall just behind where their heads were moments before.  I scream insults at them in my best Pirate tongue and we run until we’re too sweaty or until someone gets hurt. Many neighborhood friends come over specifically to have me terrorize them with my handy Arrowhead.

I’m writing this month’s essay about the evolution of this chase because I feel like the rules are shifting once again.  Now my kids are running away from home.  As far from their parents as they can get.  They aren’t quite cutting the cord completely.  But the stage is set for their inevitable escape.  I left home at seventeen.   I was fiercely independent and confident, with a love for the world, people and adventure and blithely left my three brothers and dear parents to deal with the impact of my disappearance from the family dynamic.  I was busy with Berklee College of Music, new friends and summer piano jobs in Montana and Greece.  I never stopped loving and appreciating my family, but I did so with occasional calls and postcards from the road.  My son Max is sixteen. The writing is on the wall.

I remember when it was clear to Shira and me that God did not plan on giving us any more children.  I had to make an appointment with my rabbi to share my distressed feelings of leaving the reproductive years behind.  I never stopped loving babies and still grab them any time there’s a willing parent.   My wife made it clear that the store was closed and I felt like I was just getting started!  I have a hunch that this melancholy will not hold a candle to the advent of empty nest.  I love the metaphor of the archer…as parents we pull the bow back with all our might and aim it to the best of our ability. Then we launch our beloved offspring on a lofty trajectory and PRAY for a good landing.  That sounds nice in theory…but right now I’m desperately holding on to every hike, every trip to the mall, every conversation at Coffee Bean.

My next CD is called Father’s Day.  It’s about being a dad, loving my own dad, the passage of time and the bitter sweetness of our lives.  Yes, I’m trying to get it out on the market before Father’s Day.  I have a line in one of the songs that sums up this new chapter: “I could hold your hand in front of all your friends, then I became an idiot.”  Max is hiding more.  Creating his own sense of self away from the shadow we cast.  Welcoming anywhere from

max mariachi10-25 friends over every Shabbat afternoon and hinting not to subtly that I find my own friends to play with.  He looks so damn handsome and has such a winning smile.  But that smile is more often reserved for his peers and if I want a conversation I have to bribe him with an occasional fancy meal or force him on an outing.  Even then I don’t have his full attention; I’m trying to teach him that it’s not OK to text while in a conversation with a live human.  He tries to comply until an “important” message comes through.

Jesse, my fourteen year old, is affectionate and demonstrative.  He’s as easy going as Max is willful.  He insists that he is going to be a rich doctor and build us a guesthouse for our retirement on his expansive property.   This too will change.  In fact, on our way to a recent family friend’s bar mitzvah, Jesse warned my wife and me that we were not allowed to dance.  Max chimed in, “don’t even talk.”  Thankfully Sarah was willing to party with us while her brothers cowered in shame.

I’m grateful that my kids still beg for bedtime stories.  I make them up every night from scratch; fully realized adventures, mysteries, business sagas and tales of spiritual rendezvous.  They each give me two random nouns that I must somehow incorporate into the story line.  I accept this challenge in order to keep their curiosity piqued throughout the fifteen minutes of drama. I owe them a dollar if I forget their word and I rarely mess up.  This past year Max stopped asking for stories and no longer will volunteer words.  A few nights ago I caught him underneath his covers with his headphones on during an especially intricate tale.  Like I said, the times they are a-changing.

By now you are probably wondering why I am taking you down this lonely road.  Of course, there’s a lesson in this and it’s acutely applicable at this time of the year.  You see, my friends, we are now entering Adar sheni, the final month in the Jewish calendar. This is the season when we heighten our joy and celebrate Jewish Mardi Gras, otherwise known as Purim.   We then launch into the first of the biblically numbered months, Nissan, during which we experience the week of Passover.  The Jewish year begins with the commemoration of the Exodus, reliving the plagues, splitting of the sea and revelation at Sinai.  Pesach is the holiday of homecoming and rebirth and logically occurs in the springtime.  We return to our infancy as a nation when we witnessed nine months of plagues and then were carried like a baby through the dangers of the desert, depending on God’s constant beneficence for our survival.

On the other hand, the megilah or scroll of Esther that we read on Purim is the only book in the canon that does not mention the name of God.  And yet God is surreptitiously operating behind the scenes in the formation and then foiling of Haman’s genocidal plot.  The word Purim refers to the game of chance that the villain in the saga employs to determine the date of our extinction.  This eternal tale leaves the reader with the option of perceiving either chance or the hand of God at each turn of events.  So too can we learn to see God’s presence in our own lives, both at times of turmoil and triumph.  In other words, when we reach spiritual maturity, when seemingly random events occur we might remark, “large world, well managed,” rather than, “it’s a small world.”

The Jewish year begins with revelation and ends with concealment.  Moses is God’s agent in bringing the Shechina down to earth and Esther’s name has the word “to hide” at its root.  Jewish history takes us on a journey from vulnerability in the desert to the formation of a people capable of agriculture, Talmudic discourse, defense and technology.  We spent an extra thirty-nine years in the desert because we didn’t want to leave the womb.  Our lives progress from dependence on our parents (and our Parent in heaven) to independence and as Stephen Covey would insist, ideally to interdependence where we grasp our role in the greater society.

In 1990 my father’s company went bankrupt.  This was a serious rupture in our family’s security and this forty-year enterprise was my dad’s raison d’être.   It’s highly likely that his four boys would have gone into the business. Instead, I became a full time musician and fell in love with my Judaism, eventually marrying the two in this unusual career of mine.  Two of my brothers became popular rabbis and the other brother is now a well-respected lawyer.  We don’t have the silver spoon in our mouths anymore and I think that’s a good thing.  We’ve had to fight for every last nickel and we’ve learned the value of hard work and perseverance.

In the desert we enjoyed manna from heaven and in Israel we had to perform backbreaking labor to cultivate our crops.  Adam was commanded to work and guard the Garden of Eden, not recline in a lounge chair drinking mai-tais.  To have any sense of pride and accomplishment, my children must strike it out on their own and wean themselves from the open tap of our generosity.  I fully understand the importance and inevitability of this process but I don’t have to like it.

The consolation for parents of teens is that yes, they will move out of our homes but not our lives, and that God willing, grandchildren will follow! Now when I look around my Shabbas table I am poignantly aware that in the ensuing years there will be empty places.  This sensation of always being in high demand as they compete for my attention will wane.  OK…I’m getting depressed again! I wish I had a freeze frame or at least a slow motion button on the video of my life.   Life is so good.

I’d like to offer my loyal readers the blessing that “those that

Glasers Hawaii sow in tears will reap with joy.”  Treasure your challenges and strive to see God’s loving hand in every facet of your life.  Take your spouse out on a regular date night so that when the house empties out you remember what one another looks like.  And in the immortal words of the psalmist, James Taylor, “Shower the people you love with love, show them the way that you feel, things are going to work out fine if you only will.”

 

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Losing Debbie

Friday, January 28th, 2011

by Sam Glaser

Limmud sounded like a good idea this year.  This revolutionary British organization was celebrating its 30th anniversary and Debbie Friedman and I were among those honored to be invited.  Limmud is the foremost conference worldwide for lay people of all denominations to spend a week engrossed in Torah study and Jewish culture.  Some 2500 Yidden show up annually to the University of Warwick, England during the last week of the year.  The explosive growth of this grass-roots phenomenon has now spread to forty cities worldwide.  I have performed at US, UK and Australian versions of the conference and love the chance to see Jewish unity fully lived rather than merely theoretical.  When Chanukah is “early,” it is generally safe for me to fill the week of Xmas with this conference since my Chanukah tour is over mid-month.

What I didn’t anticipate was the fact that my November and December would be booked to the hilt.  Twenty cities in two months is enough to make any grown man ardently long for his family, bed and favorite toilet.  I had a three-day turnaround in LA after an east coast swing and then I boarded a ten-hour transatlantic flight.  British Airways sold every seat on the 747.  Luck would have it that I was seated next to an oversized filmmaker from Brussels named Michael Goldstein.  Large world, well managed…we hit it off and spoke of the opportunities in Jewish life for hours until he fell asleep on my shoulder.  Needless to say, I arrived exhausted in frozen England the day after a four-day blizzard shut down Heathrow.  An endless array of white patchwork fields spilled into cobalt blue seas as we descended over the United Kingdom.  Once on the ground we had a two hour wait for a two hour bus ride. I took solace in the fact that at least I’d be able to spend some quality time with Debbie.

What made this whirlwind week different from other conferences I’ve done with Debbie was the fact that she didn’t have “handlers.” Usually there are protective, mothering fans that smother her with affection and ensure that she doesn’t overdo it.  This time, Debbie was totally in the mix.  Teaching, singing in the ad hoc choir, performing and hanging out at the inevitable late night jams until the wee hours.  Several nights in a row, literally past three in the morning, insomniac musicians huddled in a circle with a dozen guitars, dumbeks, tambourines and iphone pianos and sang every Jewish, Beatles, Cat Stevens, Stevie Wonder and Carole King song we could think of.  Thanks to the miracle of ubiquitous internet access, anytime we couldn’t remember the lyrics, someone was always ready with a PDA linked to the right words.  Often I am thrust into a leadership role at these kumzitzes in order to manage segues and land in ideal singing keys.  At Limmud, however, the leadership was shared by a dozen songleading masters…sometimes Debbie would start something and then calling the next tune would pass organically to another person.  We enjoyed an unspoken clarity on when the exact time transpired to move onto something new and over a four hour period covered just about every genre known to Western Man.

Debbie GtrDebbie’s last official concert was everything that we fans wanted.  All the hits, the crowd singing at the top of our lungs, tears aplenty at her epic ballads. Her voice was frail but she still hit the notes.  Her humor was spontaneous and spot on and of course her trademark issues with guitar tuning created several classic improvised moments.  Our beloved EJ Cohen was there to interpret both of our shows with her flowing, artful bi-lingual sign language.  Debbie asked that no one video, photograph or facebook about the show.  Just to be present, to be with her.  Of course she sang Misheberach for us and then us for her.  Little did we know.

The next night Debbie came to my concert with a black eye.  She was walking with a tortured gait and had slipped on the ice. Interesting that when it slips below freezing, London Fog turns into icy mist, coating the sidewalks with a treacherous layer of thin ice.  Hearing the British audiences sing along with my songs with a cockney accent was a true highlight.  It’s been said that accent doesn’t carry through in singing.  Wrong again!  After my show I managed to sell nearly all my CDs and then hung out at the mosh pit of a bar scene with the young folks.  I saw Debbie sitting there alone and available.  I promise that this never would have happened at any of the 17 CAJE conferences I did with her.  I sat down on the steps beside her and we spoke of new projects and her tale of woe caring for her ailing mother and the scarcity of gigs.  I didn’t realize that she had moved to Southern California a few months earlier to be close to her ima, and I was happy at the prospect that we might be able to spend some time together.

Over two thousand people enjoyed a star studded closing gala featuring an amazing ad hoc choir assembled over the course of the week.  Following my Hineni song, conductor extraordinaire, Stephen Glass, presented a moving tribute to Limmud, sung by the choir and featuring Debbie and me on the opening verses.  I held her hand throughout and at the end of our portion of the song she gave me a warm, beautiful, maternal smile that I will never forget.  We were often called upon to do these programs; at the GA conference, CAJE and Halleli at the Gibson Amphitheater.  I realize that we make an odd couple for a number of reasons.  But we are truly singing the same song, with the same goal of getting our fellow Jew invested in a relationship with a loving God.

I flew home after a full week of near all-nighters, singing until my voice was like sandpaper, teaching every day, and too many experiments with the eclectic beers on tap.  Thrashed is the best word I can think of.  A friend at my first Shabbas meal back in LA suggested I do a full week liver cleanse and I took him up on it.  No carbohydrates, soda, caffeine, Advil, meat, booze, etc.  I usually can power out my work after my kids go to bed.  I found myself exhausted at ten pm.  If this trip to the ice planet Hoth took such a toll on me, imagine what it did to my delicate friend Debbie.  She contracted serious pneumonia and didn’t have the resources to fight it.  The entire Jewish world (at least the non-Orthodox affiliated segment) held prayer vigils and sing-along’s to appeal to the Creator of the Universe to give Debbie another chance.  But this was to be her time.  The shocking news sent chills down my spine. Jerry Kaye’s Facebook post uttered the impossible simply and finally.

Heartbreak.  Tears.  Shock.  Disbelief.  Sadness.  Then all of them over again and all together.  The letters, condolences and memories poured in on Facebook, Hanashir Listserve and email.  I called many of my Jewish musician peers just to hear their voices and get perspective.  I was slammed in the studio that week and it was so hard to focus on anything.  I posted this at the height of my grief:

“I’m broken hearted. Our dear friend, mentor and spiritual ima has left the world. I can’t imagine what a beautiful, holy place she is in right now. How many of us did she touch with her sweetness, with her direct channel to God’s music. I will always sing for her and with her wherever I go.  Every thing I do I think, wow… Debbie can’t do that now.  I’m stoic and then crying again.  I just tried to explain to my kids which songs she wrote that they know and then broke down again.  I’m still not sure what losing Debbie means.  I don’t think any of us know. OK.  I’m crying again.  We lost her in Parshat Beshalach, Shabbat Shira.  She’s dancing with Miryam. No question. The seas are parting.  She opened up the sea for us Jewish musicians.  She showed us our potential.  She showed us how to open up the hearts of our audiences to hear God’s music.  How the concert or song session was not about us singing, but about lifting the spirits of everyone in the room, getting them to sing, to feel and connect. Last week I got to sing with her, to hold her hand, see her smile.  What a gift.”

I tried to figure out why I was so affected.  Debbie and I saw each other just a few times a year.  We came from different worlds, different coasts, different theologies.  She often made jokes about my move to Orthodoxy.  The only people who like to check if I am wearing tzitzit are one of my Aish rabbis, Craig Taubman and Debbie Friedman.  I realized that the core of my mourning was the feeling of the loss of a mentor.  Debbie was one of the few artists that worked at her Jewish music full time without a day gig.   When I was trying so hard to break into the business with my first album, she had 8 CDs in the Tara Music’s top 50.  She showed me what was possible in my life.  Moreover, she used her position to create opportunities for other composers and songleaders.  She was the master and we were her students.  She proved to us that there were no barriers to entry; not gender, sexual preference, handicap or level of education.  What mattered most was talent and tenacity and getting yourself out of the way so that God could speak through you.

I remember my second CAJE conference in 1993 when Debbie was leading a final jam session the last night.  I was thinking, “this kumbaya nonsense has got to stop!  It’s time to rock!”  Yes, I was rash and impetuous, and over the years I learned the magic of her soothing music and the power of its simplicity.  Like a great Shlomo Carlebach tune, Debbie’s songs grab you immediately and stick in your head, resurfacing every time you are innocently eating a latkeh, planting a tree or teaching the aleph-bet.

A few years ago I was in Debbie’s Manhattan apartment hanging out and making music.  She has an amazing piano and we sang and shmoozed and spoke of hopes and fears.  Even brilliant Debbie could feel vulnerable and question if she was making a difference.  I told her that I was living on the edge…three kids in private school and a considerable mortgage riding on the back of a sole wage earner musician dad.  That all my relatives thought I was nuts for choosing my field.  She said, “Sam, if times are ever tight and you need help, I will be there for you.  I will give you half of the money I get in my gigs to help you out.”  I laughed at her gesture and she looked at me with dire seriousness.  “Sam, I’m not kidding.  You need to be doing what you are doing.  And I will be there when you call on me.”

I sobbed throughout her funeral.  It’s the music that really gets to me.  Every song had me reaching for more kleenex.  Of course I wanted to be one of those chosen to sing.  But I’m not sure I could have found my voice through the tears.  Seeing the Collings guitar that I had played the week before on top of her casket was so shocking.  We had to be reminded that this ceremony was not for the musicians or the Reform movement, it was really for her immediate family that was grieving in the front row.  The audience was a who’s who in Jewish music.  Sad that it took the loss of a peer to get us together.

More moving was the graveside service.  A thousand people came to the memorial but only a few hundred drove to the internment.  The Jewish custom of the mourners filling in the grave is so perfect.  We bury our dead.  It’s so final and real.  We sang her songs as we shoveled.  I cried with her mother and her dear sister.  They were a real team and now they had lost their captain.  We comforted the mourners and then everybody left.  Except the musicians.  No one told us to stay.  I can only speak for myself.  I couldn’t leave her.  I just stood their crying, contemplating the world without her, focusing on the moment so that I could perceive her liberated neshama and not get pulled into a petty conversation.  When I came to, I looked around and I saw a dozen of my fellow musicians standing in random places on the grass in the golden light of the setting sun.  Wordlessly, we all started coming into a circle around her kever.  We joined hands, swayed and sobbed.  Wow.

As I drove home I felt a powerful determination sweep over me.  Not to settle for mediocrity in my life, in my career.  To force open the gates of possibility for Jewish music and the Jewish people.  To reach our non-Jewish friends with the gift of our message of hope, prayer and sanctity.  Mortality came sweeping down on my complacency like a tidal wave.  How many years do I have left to change the world?  To sing, perform, record, travel?  My twenty-one CDs have been a defense against feelings of insignificance.  But it’s not enough to put out albums.  I must use music as a stepping stone to take a stand for all Jewish people and our allies.  I must open the financial barriers that limit our expression, that stifle this renaissance.  Music is a gateway to transcendence and unity between nations.  Debbie Friedman started the fire and I must inspire my peers to turn this flame into a conflagration.

Debbie, thank you for setting the stage, for taking the lead, for teaching us, for striving through your pain and suffering to continue to inspire us.  Thanks for tolerating me and loving me.  Thanks for your amazing songs that have changed the world.    Most importantly, thanks for singing with me and being my friend.  I miss you so much.

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