Joey Newcomb shares the secret at the heart of his music and message

Photos: Dovi Green, Naftoli Goldgrab

The campus of Yeshivas Ateres Shmuel is an idyllic place. Acres of rolling lawns stretch in all directions, tilting upward every now and then to accommodate a gentle hill, and then dipping softly back down. On this clear September night, the vast star-studded black sky lends this resort-enclave-turned-yeshivah an air of absolute tranquility.

Except… from the window of a cabin tucked in the campus’s corner, blue lights flash on and then off, punctuated by red and yellow zigzagging bolts. Booming noise. Music, singing, thumping footfalls.

Inside the cabin, a man is standing on a stage with a guitar tucked around his shoulder so neatly, you’d think he was born with it. His eyes are closed and songs seem to roll out of him effortlessly. He’s concentrating on something but it doesn’t seem to be the vocals. His mind is clearly elsewhere. But where?

Then there’s the crowd. They’re going crazy, but not over him. In fact, few seem to be paying any attention to him at all. They’re dancing — in a circle — but each kid is kind of doing his own miniature dance as well. Hands go up at random, not necessarily in sync with the music. At times those solo dances become too big to handle, so the dancer breaks off entirely, enters the middle of the circle, and jumps and claps and waves his arms. He’s dancing his way, the way that makes him feel right, even if it isn’t typical. Then the other guys catch on and join him in the middle of the circle.

They’re dancing his way; they realize that it makes them feel right too.

That’s the music of Joey Newcomb.

That’s the story of Joey Newcomb.

It’s hard to drown out the allure of the hollow world around us, but Joey’s music taps the inner belief that we can rise even after a fall

Joey likes the word avodah — he pronounces it “avoida” — or maybe it’s the concept that he likes. He even named his most recent album Big Avoidas. The plan was for me to meet up with Joey in Far Rockaway and then we’d drive together to Durham where Joey would be performing for the Waterbury yeshivah. The geography is a little confusing. Although the yeshivah’s official name is Ateres Shmuel, it is widely known simply as “Waterbury.” This applies even to the yeshivah’s high school, which is located in Durham, some 40 minutes away from Waterbury. That’s just the way it is.

I arranged to meet Joey in the parking lot of the famed White Shul. It turns out to be a big avodah. It’s Minchah-time when I arrive; the people kept coming, and that means a lot of awkward neck-craning on my part. I’m not looking for a specific license plate or even a car model — no need for that. I just need to see Joey Newcomb’s peyos.