They’ve been blessed with amazing talent, yet standing in front of a sea of excited, adoring fans, they wonder how much else, besides the music, they’re expected to give.

Are they supposed to be mentors? Heroes? Inspirational role models offering moral guidance? With the powerful emotional connections that music can create, these artists often appear not just as entertainers, but as guiding figures who give voice to the struggles, hopes, and dreams of their followers.

In a generation where young people are looking for personalities to admire and emulate, how much influence do these artists have on bochurim and young adults?

Naftali Kempeh

“I don’t see my tafkid as giving chizuk. The music gives chizuk”

Naftali Kempeh  grew up in Tifrach, a simple litvish yeshivish community in Israel’s south. And although “becoming a singer” wasn’t on his early radar, today he’s a beloved kumzitzer and composer, giving concerts around the world, and having released seven albums in as many years, with songs that have become universally popular.

A SONG OR PERFORMANCE THAT HAD MORE POWER THAN I EVER THOUGHT

A bochur who learns in a “top yeshivah” in Kiryat Sefer once called me and asked if we could meet up. The next time I performed in Kiryat Sefer, he came over to me afterward, and shared that although he had always learned well, he had recently been through a disastrous winter zeman. The zeman had seemed endless to him, the masechta very hard, and he had lost his desire to learn. Instead of going to the beis medrash, he was sleeping long hours and staying in bed for even longer, doing nothing. This was not long after my second album, Ana Eilech, was released, and he had discovered my song “Lev Nishbar,” about how Hashem is close to those with broken hearts. He listened to that over and over, and in his words, “It brought me back to the beis medrash.” He gave me a gift, two notebooks filled with the chiddushei Torah on Yevamos that he’d written toward the end of that zeman. He attributed that Torah to the power of the niggun.

WHEN I REALIZED I ACTUALLY HAVE AN INFLUENCE ON, AND THEREFORE A RESPONSIBILITY TO, YOUNG PEOPLE

Last Chanukah, I did a show at Heichal Hatarbut in Yerushalayim. I said something about how, although Klal Yisrael is in the middle of a painful war, we each still have plenty of personal gifts to be grateful to Hashem for. Even while we deal with war and fear, we have families and homes and parnassah and those basic things we need.

After the show, I got a call from someone. He said, “I’d just like you to know that I came to the concert along with a forty-year-old single bochur. What you said was hurtful to him, because he doesn’t have a home or a wife and family.”

That incident made me realize that if even one person in the audience doesn’t have something, I can’t take it for granted. Every word has to be measured. I’ve learned to prepare anything I want to share in advance, and weigh it carefully.

WHAT I WISH I COULD CHANGE

Over the years, many people have come up to me on the street to talk about my music. Inevitably, sometimes this is inconvenient, like when I’m rushing, or busy, or picking up my kids. There have been times where I could have more patient, kinder. Afterward, I feel real regret. Because my music is well-known, it’s as if I’m constantly on call. I have the responsibility to think and be kind.

MY BEST FEEDBACK

It comes all the time, baruch Hashem. People tell me that the music accompanies them at special moments, both happy and sad. It’s a very big zechus for me to be part of that.

WHAT I HAVE TO GIVE

I’m not a mashgiach, a rebbi or a talmid chacham. Actually, what I see around me is that more than chizuk, a lot of young people are simply seeking relationship and connection. And just being nice, giving them a good word, a compliment, is the chizuk. Besides sometimes sharing a vort or a thought behind a song I’ve composed, I don’t see my tafkid as giving chizuk. The music gives chizuk, and I can just offer a good, kind word. That’s my job.

A MESSAGE I CAN SHARE

Anyone who walks in the way of Hashem will find their own messages, for their own individual lives. I can’t distil these for other people. I’m not a therapist; I’m a musician, and the power of music is to heal hearts and help people find their own inner compass, find their own way to Hashem. The music is what I can offer, and hopefully, that pushes them to find the right way.

THE WAY YOUNG PEOPLE FOLLOW MUSIC ARTISTS TODAY

Anything in the world can be used for good or bad. If the influence is good, it’s fine. Hopefully, when the music is the right music and comes from a Jewish heart, we can say it’s good.

BENTZI STEIN

“I don’t have to tell them stories, because I just share my own story”

Bentzi Stein is a Vizhnitzer chassid from Bnei Brak who started out as a member of Malchus Choir, but his real love was composing. He’s written dozens of songs for popular singers, including the Avraham Fried/Ari Hill duet “Abba Abba,” Beri Weber’s “Niggun Kerestir,” and Avraham Fried’s “Ototo.” He gives concerts to bochurim all over Eretz Yisrael.

A SONG OR PERFORMANCE THAT HAD MORE POWER THAN I EVER THOUGHT

The song that I believe has gone the furthest in offering chizuk is my song “Al Tipol,” with Avraham Fried and Chaim Yisrael. Because of the emotional power of the optimism in the lyrics [“Shema beni ki ani oheiv umechabeik otcha, rak al tipol… v’im kol kach kashah haderech…”] it has a lot of impact. I get regards from people who are very sick, patients in hospitals all over the world. People tell me that it has alleviated their deep loneliness, and I know that it has accompanied and comforted children with cancer who have now left to the Next World. The song itself is half a medicine, and is an example of the power of music to give hope and even healing.

HOW MY IMAGE WENT MUCH FURTHER THAN I EVER IMAGINED

Around half a year ago, a very close personal friend needed financial help. Today GoFundMe and Charidy are commonplace, but I was still too shy to reach out. It was someone close to me, in desperate need, and while I didn’t want to put myself out there in public as a schnorrer, I put my fears and my image aside, and I did it for him. I was shocked when, within three or four days, I had raised a million and a half shekels, which was far above my target. It helped them pay off years of accumulated debt, far more than I was trying to help them with. I realize that a lot of that generosity came from my music fans, and it was a special feeling for me. I’m very grateful to all of them.

WHEN I REALIZED I ACTUALLY HAVE AN INFLUENCE ON, AND THEREFORE A RESPONSIBILITY TO, YOUNG PEOPLE

After Succos last year, I had an event, a kumzitz, and a “kululam” communal singing arrangement of a new composition of mine. During the break, I went out to smoke. And then one of the team came over to me and said, “These boys are young, and if one of them is deliberating about whether or not to start smoking, and he sees you smoking, he’s sure to start.” He said it to me very nicely, and I realized he was absolutely right. I had started smoking when I was 20, six years ago. Although I’d tried to quit, I hadn’t been able to manage it. But when he said that, it worked. I haven’t had a cigarette in the seven months since.

WHAT I HAVE TO GIVE

I don’t have to tell them stories, because I just share my own story. I wasn’t the most successful bochur when I was in yeshivah. I couldn’t sit and learn all day, and I felt myself on the edge, stumbling. But it was there that I composed my first song “Abba, Abba, Abba, Melech Ha’olam….” At my lowest point, feeling like a failure in yeshivah, I started to blossom, and baruch Hashem began to overcome my challenges.

A MESSAGE I CAN SHARE

I’m constantly seeing how there is a manhig, a Driver in the world. We’re just sitting in the van, and He knows exactly where and how to take us. When I started out in music, I thought I’d play keyboard at weddings. Then I sang in the Malchus choir. Next, I created personalized singles for weddings. I didn’t strategize and plan a career — I just went wherever Hashem led me, wherever He sent opportunities. And He continues to lead me and guide me. We can really relax, rely on Him with calm and emunah sheleimah, and just thank Him for all he does.

THE WAY YOUNG PEOPLE FOLLOW MUSIC ARTISTS TODAY

Is it good, bad, or neutral? It depends. If they’re getting quality music, with a feeling of chizuk and kiruv toward the Ribbono shel Olam, that’s good. Anything that brings our generation chizuk is very good, and it makes no difference who the shofar for that is. Music at its best helps and heals people.

BERI WEBER

“I think bochurim come because I’m famous, not because I give a good shiur”

With ten albums out and nights booked for upscale weddings around the world, there’s also another side to Beri Weber: The construction worker-turned-vocalist also became a rosh yeshivah for bochurim who had nowhere else to go.

A SONG OR PERFORMANCE THAT HAD MORE POWER THAN I EVER THOUGHT

My song “Riboin.” At a Kesher Nafshi event, someone who is today settled down, frum, and married, came over and told me that this song saved his life. He’d strayed very far from frum life, and his father, substantially wealthy and following a course of unconditional love, had given him an unlimited Amex card for spending. He was throwing a party for friends in a luxury island house that he’d rented from a celebrity, when he decided to share one of his favorite songs with his then-girlfriend, who wasn’t Jewish. And so he played “Riboin” for her. She said she didn’t like it. He said he loved it. They argued. She said it was “stupid Jewish music.” He realized he didn’t have much in common with her if she couldn’t share his music, and maybe she didn’t even care about him at all. Right then and there, they broke up, over that “Jewish” song, and after some soul-searching, he came back to Yiddishkeit.

HOW MY IMAGE WENT MUCH FURTHER THAN I EVER IMAGINED

I know a ger tzedek who told me he converted because of my Rabi Shimon video — and he even wears a shtreimel like the one in the clip.

WHEN I REALIZED I ACTUALLY HAVE AN INFLUENCE ON, AND THEREFORE A RESPONSIBILITY TO, YOUNG PEOPLE

I guess I don’t see myself as people see me. I don’t see myself as a singer or performer. From my perspective, I’m just a person with my own self and my own family, and even my own problems. I don’t remember any specific moment when I realized I had an influence on bochurim, but I somehow got to that realization, and that’s why I opened a yeshivah.

WHAT I WISH I COULD CHANGE

I wish I had more time in my day. I come across people walking around with a lot of emotional baggage, and they may see me as someone to share what they’re carrying, offloading the pressure. My music is playing in their heads, so they often see me as an extension of their emotions and expect me to be able to carry their stuff and help them. I can’t give them what they really want. I’m not a therapist, and I don’t have the time and ability to be available for everyone. Being a music person means not being able to get away on vacation, not being able to take a normal Chol Hamoed trip with the family without recognition. I wish I had the time to give more freely to people.

MY BEST FEEDBACK

I get emails and WhatsApps from people who say my music helped them through very difficult challenges, and I’m grateful — but I’m also very conscious that I’m just a shaliach, and like everyone who has their role in life, music is my role. I’m like the plumber, who affects so many people’s lives in a vital way by providing their water supply, or someone who works for Medicare who helps so many people get the care they need, or the guy who imports coffee and helps everyone get through the day. I’m happy to be Hashem’s shaliach to provide people with music and help them get simchah and connection — it’s very public, but it’s also just as simple as the plumber, in my view.

WHAT I HAVE TO GIVE

Some people’s shlichus is to be a mashpia or rosh yeshivah and inspire others with their speech. My emotions go into song, not speech. My feelings are in my music. Although I do give a daily shiur, I use other people’s thoughts from their seforim. I’m not the chacham who comes up with the chizuk. And I think  people come because I’m famous, not because I give a good shiur.

A MESSAGE I CAN SHARE

What I’ve seen is that people like to predict their own trajectories, yet really, a person never knows when his life-changing moment will happen. Everything big starts somewhere, and you have to seize opportunities and allow yourself to soar. Be open to greatness. Do the next thing and the next thing, because each step takes you further. Could a ten-year-old Rav Moshe Feinstein have seen his full future potential? You can’t see yours either, so don’t let things drag you down, and just move forward one step at a time, reaching for greatness.

THE WAY YOUNG PEOPLE FOLLOW MUSIC ARTISTS TODAY

For some people, music is a lifesaver, while for others it’s a huge distraction from what they need to work on in their lives. This generation is more emotionally tuned in than people were 100 years ago, and they also appreciate music more — Hashem made it that way by design. Young people are following the music artists, but my own feeling is that most people aren’t really captivated by the artists themselves, but by the larger-than-life experience they feel through the music. The music offers them some moments of connection, of uplift, of taanug, of comfort, it touches their emotions or their soul, and that is the pleasurable experience they appreciate and are grasping for. But because they’re not really in touch with themselves, and find that thirst overwhelming, it gets expressed as admiration for the singer whose music speaks to them. So you get young people who describe themselves as avid fans of someone, but really, they love what the music does for them. They’re obsessed with their own moments of connection.

JOEY NEWCOMB

“Know the greatness of your own precious soul and its unlimited potential”

Joey Newcomb, who has released another six albums since his debut   To Be a Yid in 2019, is known for his simple yet profound messages of hope, connection, and gratitude. In addition to his musical career, Newcomb is a rebbi at Yeshiva Ateres Shimon in Queens.

A SONG OR PERFORMANCE THAT HAD MORE POWER THAN I EVER THOUGHT

I liked “Thank You Hashem” when I recorded it, but I had no idea how far it was going to go. The song became an anthem, during Covid and afterward, and I think that happened because it represented something that every Jew feels deep inside. The song turned into a rallying call of both adults and children, at weddings and concerts and in hospitals and in places like Camp Simcha. The Sfas Emes writes that as we are Yehudim, thanking Hashem is our very essence, our core.

While a lot of people sang “Thank you Hashem” as their loved ones emerged from hospitals, one story that meant a lot to me came from a woman whose challenge didn’t end happily. Her husband was niftar during Covid. She told me that they played “Thank You Hashem” every morning at breakfast, and every child chose something to thank Hashem for. They would sing and dance around the table and they found tremendous healing in the gratitude.

HOW MY IMAGE WENT MUCH FURTHER THAN I EVER IMAGINED

Three years ago, I started learning Tanya for the first time in my life. It was a game changer in my understanding of Torah and mitzvos and Yiddishkeit — it reshaped my whole mind. The next year, I wanted to share it, and so together with Eli Marcus, I opened up a chat that posted a daily section of Tanya to learn. At night, we’d post a video of one of us reviewing that day’s section. While a lot of people signed up at first, I don’t know how many actually followed the daily learning, but some did. I’ve spoken to a few people who told me they gained control of certain temptations because of that shiur, and one rav who joined became attached to the world of chassidus and says it has changed his shiurim.

WHEN I REALIZED I ACTUALLY HAVE AN INFLUENCE ON, AND THEREFORE A RESPONSIBILITY TO, YOUNG PEOPLE

Right away. After my first album was released, I did some concerts in camps. When the kids wanted to take pictures afterward, I realized that I had to try and be a role model. But it wasn’t such a surprise — anyone who is in any leadership position has to live their life with achrayus, every parent has to live life with achrayus. At the end of the day, each one of us has to set an example.

WHAT I WISH I COULD CHANGE

Sheva yipol tzaddik — I’ve made many mistakes, and I wish I could have done many things differently. But at the end of the day, I would say that anything I did was hopefully a stepping stone to growth. Everything was mean to happen, and even our failures are meant to help us grow in certain ways. I hope I learned from my mistakes, that they were yeridah letzorech aliyah, so I wouldn’t really change anything.

MY BEST FEEDBACK

I put the words “You fall down you get back up” to the Berditchever Niggun, and that has been a source of strength for some people. One guy told me that he was on his way to do something not holy, and when he got into the car and put on his music on a random shuffle, this song came on. He heard it and went back home.

WHAT I HAVE TO GIVE

On Fridays I usually share a devar Torah and some chizzuk, and on Shabbos I give a shiur on Pirkei Avos in a local shul. I like chassidish ideas that wake up the soul, and the concept of simchah — and of pushing yourself to be b’simchah even when things are tough — is very close to me.

A MESSAGE I CAN SHARE

Know who you are. Know the greatness of your own precious soul and its unlimited potential. Don’t give in to the people who knock you down, and to all the obstacles, the “meniyos.” Even your failures are there to push you higher, so keep looking forward and stay on the way up.

THE WAY YOUNG PEOPLE FOLLOW MUSIC ARTISTS TODAY

It’s like any of the gray areas in life, which the tzaddikim say can be pushed toward kedushah or toward tumah. If it’s used correctly, it can be good, and if not, it can be a problem. The main thing is for performers to be aware that the young followers are today’s reality, and therefore performing comes with a built-in responsibility to make sure we’re producing good, emesdig music that helps people connect spiritually.

 (Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1061)