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Uri Davidi’s Last Minute Decision

Every artist wants his album to be as perfect as can be, but sometimes he has to take a gamble. Is the song he’s deliberating over going to soar or flop? Is the intro going to become a classic or a sleeper? How do these entertainers know they’ve made the right choice?

 

Uri Davidi — “Let’s Add a Little Arabic”

My song “Mah Sheyesh Lo” was composed by Elie Schwab. I loved the song’s message that what you have is good for you. Eli Lishinsky, the arranger, decided to give the song a more Middle-Eastern feel. He wrote the intro, and added the interlude, a few bars of Arabic music. The sound was cool, but I thought it would be great to have some meaning there in Arabic too. I got a translation of “be happy with whatever you have” in Arabic, and that’s what you hear sung as an interlude.

 

 (Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 729)

 

Ma Sheyesh Lo
Uri Davidi
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“U’teshuvah, U’tefillah, U’tzedakah”

How to Sweeten the Decree

Throughout the Yamim Noraim, three words accompany us and inform our every action. Teshuvah, tefillah, tzedakah — we believe that sincere repentance, prayer, and charity have the power to sweeten any bitter decrees. And that belief empowers us to stretch ourselves beyond the barriers of self-imposed reality and truly ascend our personal spiritual ladders.

Composer and arranger Mona Rosenblum encountered the power of those words years ago, in the summer camp of Yeshivas Chemed. “This tune was composed by my son, Shneur,” Mona says. “It started out as a wordless niggun of dveikus that he sang with his friends in yeshivah in Bayit Vegan. Later, Hashem sent me the inspiration of setting the words ‘U’teshuvah, u’tefillah, u’tzedakah’ to the tune. We taught it to the bochurim at the Chemed bein hazmanim camp, and they loved it so much that they wouldn’t let me move on to the next song. They just kept singing it again and again.”

Once he saw the power of the simple, prayerful melody, Mona knew he had to include it on his upcoming disc, which was ultimately released as Mona 7 and included with last year’s Mishpacha Succos package.

The song was originally arranged for a G-minor scale, but when singer Yaakov Shwekey was asked to record the vocals, he asked Mona to take it up half a tone. “Yaakov made the right call,” Mona says. “Today’s computer technology allows us to switch keys with barely any impact on the song. In this case, raising the key made the first bars of the low part sound better, and Yaakov has phenomenal vocal range and reaches the high notes with ease. That higher version is what we eventually ended up including on the disc. Eventually — because those vocals were recorded a full nine years before Mona 7 was released.

 Yearning and Returning in Every Nusach

Dressed in white, clutching their machzorim, the congregation enters the shul, anticipating the holiest moments of the year. Many Sephardic communities herald these 25 hours of intense beseeching and holiness with a stirring, ancient piyut. It begins with the words “Lecha Keili teshukati, lecha libi vekilyotai… hashiveini ve’ashuvah, vetirtzeh et teshuvati — I long for You, my G-d, my heart and innards yearn for You, my spirit is yours, as is my soul… Bring me back [to You], and I will return, and accept my repentance.”

Lecha Keili is a long prayer structured in exquisitely rhymed couplets, and includes an expansive Vidui. The words, which start out poetic and esoteric and then segue into heartfelt remorse and confession, are ascribed to Avraham Ibn Ezra, and the custom of reciting it at nightfall (parallel to the Ashkenazi custom of saying Tefillas Zakkah) is discussed in the Rishonim.

Lecha Keili is customarily sung together in a traditional melody, and is described as “an outpouring of soul.” The second stanza continues, “I will cry to You, cling to You, until I return to my Land. I am Yours while I live, and indeed after I die. Bring me back, and I will return, and accept my repentance.”

The piyut came to the attention of Rabbi Yosef Moshe Kahana when he researched Sephardic songs and piyutim for his recent Mizrach Tish album. The version that appears in his collection, sung by the emotive baal tefillah Isaac Honig, is a breathtakingly poignant fusion of chassidic fervor with Sephardic longing, tradition, and simple faith. (Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 727)

 

Lecha Keili
Yosef Moshe Kahana
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Eileh Ezkerah

“During Mussaf on Yom Kippur, we recite a piece about the Asarah Harugei Malchus (The Ten Martyrs) called Eileh Ezkerah. I could never read those words without being moved to tears, and I wrote a song about this tragedy which appears on our These I Remember album. Many people have told me that it is the single most tragic, heart-breaking song they’ve ever heard, the type of song that leaves you shaken to the core. And I can see why. But I guess on Yom Kippur that’s a good thing.”

— Country Yossi

These I Remember
Country Yossi
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Song of Reckoning in the Skulener Court

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he Days of Awe reach their peak on Yom Kippur, when we face the inevitability of our own mortality and the ultimate Day of Judgment. The Skulener Rebbe highlights that final judgment with his contemplative, haunting tune, “Akavia ben Mahalalel omer, histakel bishloshah devarim — Akaviah ben Mahalalel says, look at three things and you will not come to sin: Know where you come from, where you are going, and before whom you will in the future give an account, before the King of Kings, HaKadosh Baruch Hu.” The song is Track 5 on the Noam Skulen album, but it’s become the musical backdrop to this season as well.

The words — which are traditionally recited at the end of many levayos in Eretz Yisrael — echo in Skulen during the Yamim Noraim tishen. “It’s awe-inspiring to watch the Rebbe sing this song,” says a close chassid. “You hear his repetition of those words ‘din v’cheshbon,’ and the message of the words and the Rebbe’s demeanor are just so powerful.”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 727)

 

 

 

Akavia
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Tuned up to Tishrei

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he first album I did with Mordechai ben David was V’chol Ma’aminim — Songs of Yamim Nora’im, back in 1978. The new releases back then weren’t theme-oriented, so what made us decide to do an album with an Aseres Yemei Teshuvah refrain?
Growing up on Manhattan’s West Side, I had the privilege to daven in Yeshivas Chofetz Chaim, where the baalei tefillah were two brothers named Reb Moshe and Reb Shimon Schreiber. They were able to infuse a special spirit in their tefillos, and had the ability to inspire the entire community. They told me that they learned their nusach from Rabbi Manis Mandel ztz”l, the master menachech who put so many of the Yom Tov tefillos to heartfelt niggunim — songs like “B’Rosh Hashanah,” “Hayom Haras Olam,” “Ein Kitzvah,” and others, and I always imagined how beautiful it would be to have MBD sing these songs on an album.
And so that’s what we did. We then added a few of the more mainstream songs — such as “V’chol Ma’aminim,” originally composed by Reb Shlomo Carlebach to “Tov Lehodos,” and “Adir Adireinu,” composed by Reb Shlomo Pretter — which became the number one song in Israel for 37 weeks straight. After that, we searched for an English and a Yiddish song, as was the style on the new releases. We lucked out with Dina Storch’s song, “The Bird of Hope.” Over the years, many musicians have told me that Suki’s arrangement for that song was in a class of its own. My brother’s father-in-law, Rabbi Yosel Friedenson a”h, suggested the classic “Habeit Mishamayim” for the Yiddish song (Habeit mishamayim ure’ei/Kuk arop fun Himmel un zei/Ki hayinu lelaag vakeles bagoyim/Mir zenen doch vi a gelechter bai zei…). The song had been written as a Yiddish ballad during the war by a Bobover chassid named Yechezkel Shraga Rottenberg Hy”d, and Rabbi Friedenson told us that many neshamos sang that song on the way to the gas chambers.
I’ll never forget the night Mordechai was recording “Habeit” in the studio and his father, Chazzan Dovid Werdyger, came to hear him sing. The studio had a couch, and during a break, Reb Dovid dozed off. A few moments later, one of the speakers in the studio made a loud noise, which roused him from his short slumber. He immediately dived onto the ground and started to shout in Yiddish, “They’re shooting! They’re shooting!” Seconds later, he realized where he was, and got up and acted as though nothing had happened. None of us in the studio said a word. But we all knew that the song had awakened some terrible memories from his past.
On a much lighter note, we wanted to have a boys’ choir sing on the album. Suki and I flew to Montreal on Chol Hamoed Pesach and we arranged to go to the studio with a group of boys whom we knew from Camp Agudah of Toronto. With no rehearsal, we knocked off the choir part of the album in less than three hours. Standing outside that Montreal studio, Suki said, “How about we call them the Montreal Yeshivah Boys?” I said, “Great idea!” And so, the Montreal Yeshivah Boys choir was formed on Chol Hamoed Pesach, 1978, and promptly dismantled three hours later.
I remember when I heard MBD sing that first song in the studio — “V’chol Ma’aminim” — I said to myself that I had the greatest job in the world. In my books, this was the furthest thing from actual work.
Best wishes to everyone for a sweet year filled with brachah and shalom, a year in which we’re always hearing the music.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 726)

V'chol Ma'aminim
MBD
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Rabbi Nachman Seltzer: Song of my Soul

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he rarefied atmosphere of the Yamim Noraim, a blend of awe and longing and intense prayer, is closely tied to the solemn tunes and the stirring words. The power of a niggun to awaken our hearts is a blessing which comes into its own at this auspicious time of year.

Which song or niggun creates that special Yamim Noraim feeling for you?

 

Author and educator: Rabbi Nachman Seltzer

MBD’s “Vehayah Bayom Hahu” — composed by the previous Skulener Rebbe and originally recorded on Pirchei’s first record back in 1964 — can really bring a person into the Yamim Noraim mode. The arrangements are simple — a lot of piano — and you can really feel the song and almost see the vision. Hillel Paley’s “Ochila LaKeil” is a natural power source, whether for davening or any time you want to access the mood. And on Yom Kippur, Yigal Calek’s “Emes Mah Nehedar” is a classic that shakes the beis medrash.
But the tune that epitomizes Yamim Noraim for me is the powerful nusach of the Kaddish leading into Mussaf, when the entire congregation, poised and ready to daven this key part of the day’s avodah, joins the chazzan and sings in a glorious crescendo “Baagala u’b’zman kariv, v’imru… Amen!”

 

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 726)

 

Emes Mah Nehedar
Yigal Calek
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David Greenfield: Song of my Soul

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he rarefied atmosphere of the Yamim Noraim, a blend of awe and longing and intense prayer, is closely tied to the solemn tunes and the stirring words. The power of a niggun to awaken our hearts is a blessing which comes into its own at this auspicious time of year.

 

Which song or niggun creates that special Yamim Noraim feeling for you?
 
CEO, MET council; past NYC councilman David Greenfield

For me, the most moving part of the Yamim Noraim is when the chazzan sings Unesaneh Tokef. It’s not just the weight of the niggun and the piyut itself but also the backstory of Reb Amnon of Mainz — who was brutally punished by the powerful archbishop for refusing to convert to Christianity — and the vivid reminder of how everything in this world can change in an instant.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 726)

 

Unesaneh Tokef
Yisroel Williger
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Rabbi Chaim Dovid Zwiebel: Song of my Soul

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he rarefied atmosphere of the Yamim Noraim, a blend of awe and longing and intense prayer, is closely tied to the solemn tunes and the stirring words. The power of a niggun to awaken our hearts is a blessing which comes into its own at this auspicious time of year.

 

Which song or niggun creates that special Yamim Noraim feeling for you?

 

Agudah Executive Vice President Rabbi Chaim Dovid Zwiebel

The niggun I most enjoy singing around our Rosh Hashanah seudah table is “Mechalkeil Chayim,” which I learned as a young boy listening to Modzitzer Favorites Volume 2, and which I had the zechus to sing alongside Reb Ben Zion Shenker a”h in the presence of the Modzitzer Rebbe at a gathering hosted a few years ago by my friend Reb Shmuel Dovid Spira. The niggun is intricate, beautiful, majestic, and inspiring. We say this tefillah three times a day, but Klal Yisrael has a special minhag to sing “Mechalkeil Chayim” on the Yamim Noraim, reflecting our acknowledgement at these critical moments of Hashem’s awesome power and loving-kindness. Singing the remarkable words of our daily Shemoneh Esreh to this particular niggun brings out the grandeur of the Yamim Noraim like no other niggun I can think of.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 726)

 

Mechalkeil Chayim
Reb Ben Zion Shenker a"h
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Rabbi Eytan Kobre: Song of my Soul

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he rarefied atmosphere of the Yamim Noraim, a blend of awe and longing and intense prayer, is closely tied to the solemn tunes and the stirring words. The power of a niggun to awaken our hearts is a blessing which comes into its own at this auspicious time of year.

 

Which song or niggun creates that special Yamim Noraim feeling for you?

 

Mishpacha’s US editor Rabbi Eytan Kobre

For me, it’s the strains of Eitan Katz’s emotion-packed niggun “Lemaancha” that signals the arrival of the Yamim Noraim period. Can it really be that an entire year has gone by? Wasn’t it yesterday that I stood right here before the Creator acknowledging my utter emptiness of deeds and merits, pleading for His embrace, for His sake if not for mine?
As Selichos begins, we say, “Kedalim uke’rashim dafaknu delasecha — we knock on Your door as paupers bereft of all merit.” We continue doing so through the days of Selichos and the intense days of reflection and return that follow.
Then, the culmination, the awesome day that European Jews called simply the Yom HaKadosh. And on that night, we say “Asei v’lo lanu, r’ei amidaseinu k’dalim uke’reikim.” After all we’ve said and done in these last days, we’re still just empty-handed beggars at the door of the palace. Our bodies, our souls, they’re all Yours; please let us have them for another year.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 726)

 

Lemaancha
Eitan Katz
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