Back in 1973, a young man named Mordechai Werdyger slipped on to the Jewish music scene with a little-known album called Original Chassidic Melodies. While that early album never took off, listeners sat up when they heard Mordechai Ben David’s next album, Hineni, the following year. The magic of his new-old musical style and the sheer power of his voice soon won a place right at the heart of the frum soundtrack.

For over four decades, we’ve sung and danced, swayed and prayed, to hundreds of iconic MBD songs, the ones he wrote himself and those collaborations he made famous. And now we’ve asked our readers:

Which one of Mordechai Ben David’s songs has touched your life?

“Yesh Kochavim” (“Shir Hashalom”) (Neshama — Soul, 1975)

My father was a transplant from high-society Germany. Music to him meant chazzanus — and classical and operas music. I used to enjoy Jewish popular music but it wasn’t up to my father’s standard.

And then came Mordechai Ben David’s music... and everything changed. Suddenly my father and us children had a musical love we shared. My father, a very controlled and yekkishe man, would become transformed as he listened to some of MBD’s early albums.

We always sang all the zemiros at the Shabbos table, many with haunting melodies from Germany or Austria. But we, the younger generation, didn’t really appreciate that “old style music” in those days. Thankfully, though, with the introduction of MBD, my father allowed us to sing his songs at the table. MBD had turned words from the Shabbos tefillos into the most spiritual, leibedig, and inspiring melodies. And my father would lead with his eyes closed and a smile on his face.

There was one song that he especially loved. It was in the early days, a song that seems utterly forgotten: “Yesh Kochavim,” sung in modern Hebrew with original lyrics [the tune was borrowed from a popular secular song that was released the same year —ed.]. The lyrics told the story of the stars, how some are small and some are hidden but they are all unique and special. And if you could approach even the tiniest ones, you would see a light that could brighten the whole world — and we could all live together if we appreciated each other with love in our hearts. My father and I used to sing this song together. We were both softened by the message, the tune, and the words, and when MBD sang it in his majestic voice, everyone in the house would stop and listen.

Fast forward many years. I was living far away, and my father and I no longer had opportunities to sing together very often. Then my father became very ill. I spent the last night of his life with him in the hospital. He could no longer talk, as he was mostly in a drug-induced sleep. I sat there with tears running down my cheeks, desperately wanting to reach him but no longer sure of how to. And then, tentatively, I began to sing: “Yesh Kochavim yoter gedolim.. .v’yesh meihem shelo niriim... aval kochavim kulam.” His face relaxed, and I thought I glimpsed a small smile play around his lips. I am always grateful to Mordechai Ben David — for bringing music to the Jewish world that linked my father and me together, till the very last day.

MBD'S TAKE

“As I sat one bright, starry night gazing at the sky, Hashem put the thought into my head how we Yidden are likened to the stars. Hashem told Avrahom Avinu, ‘Your children will be like the stars in the sky.’ And although there are trillions of stars in the sky, to the naked eye some seem to be brighter than others, because the closer we are to the stars the brighter they shine. The same concept applies to us humans: If we would be closer to one another, we would certainly see the bright star in everyone.”

 (Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 738)

Back in 1973, a young man named Mordechai Werdyger slipped on to the Jewish music scene with a little-known album called Original Chassidic Melodies. While that early album never took off, listeners sat up when they heard Mordechai Ben David’s next album, Hineni, the following year. The magic of his new-old musical style and the sheer power of his voice soon won a place right at the heart of the frum soundtrack.

For over four decades, we’ve sung and danced, swayed and prayed, to hundreds of iconic MBD songs, the ones he wrote himself and those collaborations he made famous. And now we’ve asked our readers:

Which one of Mordechai Ben David’s songs has touched your life?

“Kah Ribon” (Pray and Sing, 1977)

My favorite MBD song? There are many. I sing his original composition to Kah Ribon every Friday night. Because of his singing prowess, people forget what a talented composer MBD is. But he sings a different sort of song as well.

Rabbi Simcha Mitnick, eighth grade rebbi at Yeshivas Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin in Flatbush, once encouraged his talmidim to arrange to learn with a chavrusa each night in a local shul. Most of the boys were able to pair up easily. One particular boy didn’t have it as easy.

“Rebbi,” the boy said, “I don’t have anyone to learn with. No one in the class lives near me.”

“Why? Where do you live?”

“I live in Seagate.”

“Seagate?” the rebbi repeated. “You’re right. None of the boys live near you.”

Rabbi Mitnick tried to think of someone in Seagate. He could only come up with one person. “How about Mordechai Ben David? Maybe you can learn with him,” said Rabbi Mitnick, half in jest.

The next day, the talmid approached his rebbi. “Rebbi, I have a chavrusa to learn with at night.”

“Really? Who?”

“Mordechai Ben David.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No. Mordechai Ben David is my chavrusa. Rebbi told me to ask him, so I went to his house and knocked on his door. When he opened it, I said, ‘My rebbi told me to ask you if you would learn with me,’ and he said, ‘Sure. What do you want to learn?’ I told him that we’re learning Maseches Sanhedrin in yeshivah. ‘Sanhedrin?’ he said, ‘That’s my favorite masechta!’”

It was a partnership that lasted throughout the year, creating a beautiful melody formed by the timeless words of Gemara.

MBD'S TAKE

“Good taste. We too sing this song every week at our Shabbos table.”

 (Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 738)

The Marcus brothers say that they were inspired by the classic song “Ilan, Ilan Bemah Avarechecha,” which is one of their mother’s favorites. The song, from the Gemara in Maseches Taanis 5a, is the famous parable about a thirsty traveler who enjoys the shade and sweet fruit of a tree which is watered by a fresh stream. The traveler’s dilemma is “With what can you bless a tree that already has everything?” The Gemara’s reply is “May your seeds grow to be trees just like you,” and this phrase has traditionally been adopted to bless parents with nachas from their children.

According to Shmueli, “One of the greatest things 8th Day gets to do is to bring joy to a chassan and kallah at their wedding. At a certain point I said to Bentzi that we needed a song that features the chassan and kallah but also pays tribute to their roots, the parents and grandparents. So I started with the concept of “Adam eitz hasadeh — man is like a tree”, and added the Yiddish “zohl der kinder vi der tatte/ mamme zein” plus the fitting wedding brachah of “Samach [or sameach — ed.] Tisamach.” And, he explains, the words “Look around, it’s Gan Eden” is meant as a tribute to parents and grandparents.

Later, as the brothers were getting ready to record “Samach” on the new album, Shmueli felt compelled to add a counterpoint, a line in Yiddish reminding us that having parents is only the first step — we still need to do whatever we can to move forward. And so, “Tantz mit de fiss, patch mit de hendt, tut tut alst vos ir kent” became the catchphrase for making your own effort.

“Many times we tend to pat ourselves on the back for our successes, like if our music video gets a million views or something like that, but we tend to forget that we are where we are because of others, like our parents and grandparents. In our case, this might include a famous uncle by the name of Avraham Fried.”

So when you’re up and dancing to this new niggun, remember to build on the great past in order to create a great future — and that’s definitely a cause for celebration.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 737)

If you could press a button and redo one thing in your musical career, what would you change before hitting Play?

Baruch Levine

“On my album Modim, there’s a beautiful tune, which I set to the words of ‘Acheinu kol beis Yisrael.’ The song never took off, though, and I think it’s because you don’t start up with a classic like Abie’s ‘Acheinu.’ Maybe had I used different words, it would have caught on.”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 736)

If you could press a button and redo one thing in your musical career, what would you change before hitting Play?

Shloime Dachs

“Actually, there’s something I wish I could change on my first album, One Day at a Time. If you listen to the song ‘Hamalach Hagoel,’ you’ll realize that the words, ‘veyikarei vahem shemi’ from the second half of the pasuk are missing — the high part goes straight from ‘yevareich es hane’arim’ to ‘v’sheim avosai.’ We only realized that after the album came out and it still upsets me to have misquoted the pasuk like that. When I sing the song live, I always add those three words in.”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 736)

If you could press a button and redo one thing in your musical career, what would you change before hitting Play?

Shloime Gertner

“Whenever I happen to listen to ‘Haposeach Yad B’teshuvah,’ from the 2012 album Vehiskin, I think that there’s untapped potential there. It feels like the song is over too soon. If I could press rewind, I’d want to reproduce that track and make the existing chorus into a bridge and add a great third part, making it even better.”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 736)