A journey of discovery with music producer and bandleader Mendy Hershkowitz

Photos: Naftoli Goldgrab, Yossi Goldgerger, Naftali Marasow

He’s the calm presence standing at the keyboard at weddings, upscale hotel concerts, or ambitious concert performances. He’s the brilliant musical mind pushing singers and musicians in new directions. He’s the recording mastermind who hears the subtle nuances of each instrument  in a 60-piece orchestra. And he’s also the faithful Satmar chassid who hasn’t compromised or diluted his standards throughout his journey. You might call him an arranger, producer, band-leader or composer, but in his own mind, Mendy Hershkowitz is a kid from Monroe still discovering music

IT was sort of a big deal, the 2023 HASC concert. All HASC concerts are, but this year, it was a new concept, a new venue — the move to the New Jersey Performing Arts Center was a statement that this event was for people who took music seriously.

The crowd, wowed by the setting, layout and sound, did what good audiences do — buzzed with energy as the HASC anthem started up.

Then it happened. Not a big deal if you’re in the audience, but a pretty big deal if you’re onstage: a slight glitch in the sound system that had nothing to do with human error and everything to do with a wire and pole backstage.

Some people couldn’t take their eyes off the trying-not-to-panic singer, and others looked desperately for a technician, but my eyes were searching out bandleader Mendy Hershkowitz.

He was smiling. I knew it.

I knew, because I had seen that equanimity from up close.

About a year ago, I was asked to emcee a musical event dreamed up by my talented friend Yosef Chaim Aryeh. In trying to convey just how sophisticated an experience it would be, he told me that Mendy Hershkowitz would be leading the band.

At the time, I wasn’t that familiar with the name, but it sounded intriguing.

During that event, there was a mini-glitch — a performer segued into the high part instead of the low part, or maybe it was vice versa — not the sort of thing a random audience member would catch, but I was on the stage with an earpiece. I watched in horror as the music and the singer seemed headed on a collision course.

Mendy was standing behind his two-tiered keyboard, his smile growing as he spoke in the tiny mic snaking around his jaw. “Okay,” he told his musicians gently, “one more time the low part, you got this.”

It took a few painful seconds, the band playing through the mistake without getting flustered, and then quickly, happily meeting up with the singer and continuing the song.

All good.

Later on, I asked Mendy about it.

“Obviously, the glitches are going to happen here and there, no matter how much you practice,” he told me. “When it happens, the singer is extremely vulnerable. I’ve seen, over the years, how a performer who has a mess-up can wilt after that, and they dial it in for the rest of the night. I realized that even if they can’t hide, I can — I’m not the one out facing the crowd, he is — so I will try to support him.”