More recent songs have had messages of surrender, of picking up pieces after a fall

When composer and songwriter CHAYALA NEUHAUS made the first Miracles album in 2015, the soloist, Dovid Pearlman, was just 14. His return to singing on MIRACLES 4 brings a beautiful, heartfelt delivery to the newest volume of Chayala’s English songs, this time produced by musician/arranger Tzvi Blumenfeld, director of Freilach Band.

There are eleven original songs in Chayala’s signature flowing lyrical style, although they touch on new themes in Jewish life.

“I always want to write songs around the central core of tefillah and emunah, but as life goes on, everything evolves, and the messaging I need for myself changes and shifts. It was actually a friend who pointed out that the idealistic songs I wrote in my teens and twenties gave way to songs with more layers of life woven into them,” says Chayala.

More recent songs have had messages of surrender, of picking up pieces after a fall, and how the greatest knowledge you ever have is that you don’t know much. For example, watching her toddler sing the Uncle Moishy classic “Hashem is Here, Hashem is There,” it dawned on Chayala that we all need to reclaim this message later on in life. In “With Me,” she writes “I’ve been up / and I’ve been down / And I’ve been all around / And walked all the miles / from home / And I so want to believe / That You’re here for me / And I’m not alone.” Her song concludes with the realization that “Hashem is Everywhere” really begins when we place Him at the center of our lives.

The Lakewood-based songwriter writes many of her songs for plays, camps, and organizations. The ones that resonate with the crowd and seem to take on a life of their own are then shortlisted for her Miracles albums, and they include both upbeat songs like “Start,” which motivates listeners to persevere even when “The finish line feels super far /Can’t see the mountaintop where you are,” and moving ballads like “Wandering Jew,” about the hate we face in exile and the emunah that is really all we have to hold on to.

The last track, “Lecha Dodi,” was inspired by the hostage release. It’s a warm, universal melody with a classic feel. Chayala composed it a while back but had not yet put words to it.

“When the hostages were released,” she says, “so many of them spoke about keeping Shabbos, making Kiddush in the dark tunnels. They were sitting in the eimek habachah and came out in a release that felt like a microcosm of the Geulah. If you look at the words of Lecha Dodi, they are an invitation to Klal Yisrael to walk out of the darkness toward our bright future. I wanted to capture that comforting promise.”

The biggest change Mrs. Neuhaus has made since her last album release is that during the past three years, she’s begun traveling to sing at women’s concerts, while prior to that she sent her songs out into the world from her studio. This was a game changer, as it not only gave her live feedback, but a real-time connection with her listeners as well.

“I’ve sung in Eretz Yisrael, South America, Belgium, England, and all over the US. I never thought I would become comfortable on stage, but it was a beautiful experience for me to sing my songs with women and girls around the world and connect to them through music,” she says.

She passes on the specialness of this experience in a dedicated song called “About a Song.”

“Whether it’s an audience of thirty, or if three thousand Jewish women and girls show up, even though we start the night as complete strangers, we end it singing as a group of loving sisters. I still never get over the wonder of it — what is it about a song that does it?” she muses. “I don’t know the answer, but I know that I’m grateful for the gift and the opportunity to share it.”

UNLIKELY INSPIRATION

When I composed my first song, “Abba” (“Abba, Abba, Abba, Melech Haolam”), I had a pretty strong feeling that it would be a hit. I contacted Avraham Fried and offered it to him, but he was undecided about it for a long time, maybe a few months. Finally, he told me that the song wasn’t for him and wished me hatzlachah. One Friday after that, I called Ari Hill and sold the song to him. On that very Motzaei Shabbos, Avremel called me back. He had been learning Tanya over Shabbos, and he saw the phrase “Av echad lekulanu” (“We all have one father”) which had reminded him of my song, so he had reconsidered and now wanted to sing it. I’d already sold it, but it wasn’t too late to arrange for the two singers to collaborate, and the result was truly memorable — and so bashert.

—Benzi Stein

Mic Drop

When the Time is Right

Many composers out there can attest to the fact that they’ve composed not dozens, but hundreds of songs. How do they choose from the melodies they stockpile and know which to share, and when?

BARUCH LEVINE, who was writing songs for other singers years before he took the mic himself, says that one way to test the waters is to play the song when people are not too focused on it, but are listening with half an ear.

“I sometimes play something new on the computer in the rebbis’ room at the yeshivah where I teach,” he says. “Then I can see if there’s anything that catches on in the song, when people aren’t trying to listen with focus and attention.”

Baruch, who’s known to actually come on time to events and often arrives at the venue first, lives in Waterbury, Connecticut, which means he often has a two-hour drive. That’s usually his listening time, working out whether a new song works or if it needs tweaking.

“I need to leave any potential song for a few days after I compose it, then listen to it a few times, at different times and places, to decide whether to run with it or not. If I don’t feel that the time is right for a particular song or message, I won’t put it out.”

The Sound I Like Best

What’s the most enjoyable genre of music for you?

For me, it’s always been classical music. People tend to wave it away as old and dead, or irrelevant, but to me it’s a treasure, always absolutely worth listening to. When people do listen, they often find that so much of our chassidish music, from Poland and Modzhitz and Gur and Bobov, has a lot in common with classical music. It’s been there for a very long while and contributed so much.

—Yisroel Lamm

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1092)