"I wish I could recapture that excitement"

"M

y family was in the process of making aliyah from Belgium when I spent a summer in Rabbi Eli Teitelbaum’s famous Camp Sdei Chemed, which he ran in Israel for American kids. Yisroel Lamm was there, and we spoke about music and that I liked to write songs. He told me to send him a song. I composed something but didn’t hear anything back from him, until I received a record in the mail, sent to our new home in Bnei Brak: It was the New York School of Jewish Song 2, with the song ‘Mi She’asah Nissim’ composed by Moshe Laufer. I still enjoy hearing my songs played at weddings, but seeing them on album covers has become somewhat rote — I wish I could recapture that excitement today that I felt back then.”

—Moshe Laufer, composer and arranger

 (Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 764)

"It’s a truly heilige niggun"

I

t’s almost like an answer to his hit song “Halevai,” (“If only… Mashiach would come”), the title track on Uri Davidi’s debut album two years ago. “Muchanim,” the lead song on his newly released second album, Muchanim, is a fresh way to look at waiting for Geulah: “It’s as if Mashiach is speaking,” he explains of the lyrics, which were written by Miriam Israeli. “Ani ba… ani omed badelet… va’ani sho’el ha’im atem hayom muchanim lekabel oti — I’ve come, I’m standing at the door, and I’m asking ‘Are you ready to receive me?’)” and the people are replying “Anachnu muchanim — we’re ready!” The song is upbeat and catchy, but still makes listeners think: If Mashiach tells us he’s about to show up at our doorstep today, are we truly ready?

Davidi has aimed for a more diverse collection on this second album, with a couple of “heimish-style” songs by Williamsburg composer Hershy Weinberger, alongside both Israeli and yeshivish selections. The first part of the song “Hallelu” (track number three) was composed by Weinberger toward the beginning of the project, but Davidi and producer Yitzy Waldner circulated among composers for months, looking for a fitting high part. Until it just came to them. Waldner was playing keyboard one day, playing the chords for the album’s dramatic, inspiring finale, “We Will Sing Again” when Davidi started singing “Hallelu.” “Suddenly,” says Davidi, “Yitzy segued into something that became the second part of ‘Hallelu.’ Which just goes to show that every song emerges at its own right time.”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 764)

T

he mixing engineer usually gets just one line on the album cover, but that short phrase represents no small amount of skill, and often hard work too. Once the songs have been sung, and the strings, percussionists, and wind instruments have all had their studio slots, it’s time for all the raw recordings to move on to the mixing studio, where a mixing engineer will listen to each track (usually between 50 and 100 of them) and adjust frequencies and volumes as needed to create the finished product.

Working behind the scenes on many contemporary Jewish hit albums and singles, engineer Chaim Gottesman discusses the evolving role of the mixer, and his own journey. “I learned a lot about music when Michael Tzy and I set up Tenor Studios in Bnei Brak, a recording and mixing studio. I was pretty young then, and we learned the basics of musical engineering. I spent endless hours practicing and trying things out. I picked up new concepts and we expanded the studio’s capabilities, so that there were nights when I actually fell asleep on the studio floor,” Gottesman says.

His first major project was mixing the album Asicha, which was released by Reb Pinchas Bichler of Malchus Choir, and Tzvi Blumenfeld of Freilach Band, for the Sanzer chassidus. He’s still learning, though, he says, from each professional and artist with whom he collaborates. Because like music itself, the art of mixing changes and develops with the times.

“There are two approaches to mixing,” Gottensman explains. “One is a very technical approach, which aims to iron out glitches and potential conflicts in the tracks in order to get the mix ‘right.’ The other involves a creative mindset, where the mixer sees the tracks as a raw material that he can work with to bring out the soul of the song in the clearest or most creative way.”

Gottesman says he realized just how much sound changes over the years when he recently dusted off an old song after four years. “Moishy Roth of Hamenagnim orchestra composed a song called ‘Bedamayich,’ which was recorded by Israeli chazzan and singer Avremi Roth. I mixed the song, but it was never released. Four years later, they told me they were ready to release it. I opened up my archives, listened to the song, and decided to use the original tracks, but remix them. The remix is totally different from the original. Instead of making the guitar and strings dominant, I let the sound effects, electronics, and percussion dominate the sound, bringing the song up to date — without rerecording anything.”

Gottesman has recently branched out, getting involved in the earlier stages of musical projects. He works at the Zemiros studio owned by Reb Chaim Banet, where he gets to collaborate on each song’s musical direction long before the mixing stage. “For example, when we work on the L’chaim Tish albums, or on Reb Chaim’s own songs, we’re looking for a real traditional, heimish feel. Yet we still want the music to feel fresh. One way to do that is to hire musicians who are somewhat new to the chassidish scene and don’t play chassidish music that often. I give them the same musical score, but it sounds a little different. I once hired a flautist from Turkey to record the flute track for a particular song and send it to me. It was an investment that paid off in vibrant sound.”

One of Gottesman’s most productive musical relationships was forged over a Shabbos invitation, when he found himself stranded in New York on a trip to the States. “My plan was to spend Shabbos in Lakewood, but at the last minute that fell through. I didn’t know many people in New York but a friend arranged for me to stay with well-known producer Yochi Briskman. From that time that Yochi hosted me, I’ve gotten to know him and we’ve collaborated on many projects — such as Shulem Lemmer, Baruch Levine, and Simcha Leiner albums — so I guess you could say the good taste of that Shabbos has remained.”

 (Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 764)

Nothing signals Yom Tov like those uplifting niggunim that are sung as part of the ultimate paean of praise to Hakadosh Baruch Hu — Hallel. It’s in the chazzan’s hands to navigate that crossroads of tefillah and music, as he starts an appropriate tune while the crowd in shul joins in, feeling their hearts open with the strains of both thanks and supplication.

What tune do you choose to express a heart full of thanks?

Simcha Leiner, singer

I like to pick a theme for Hallel and stick to it throughout the tefillah. One such example is using different “Ani Maamin” tunes. There are faster ones for the upbeat sections of Hallel and slower ones for the pleading supplications. Another example: tunes from Shabbos zemiros or “Tov Lehodos” tunes — by now people know my style and are looking out to try and figure out what theme I’ve chosen.

Shlomo Katz, composer, rabbi, and singer

I use Rebbe Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev’s niggun during “Ana Hashem Hoshia Na”.

While crying out this niggun, I find myself understanding what I’m truly asking for when I ask for yeshuah.

Yitzy Spinner, arranger and chazzan

I enjoy singing Reb Shlomo Carlebach’s “Ana Hashem” in the middle of the Mah Ashiv paragraph. I find it particularly powerful to sing a melody with the words for which it was originally written.

Eliezer Kalisch, composer

Around 30 years ago, the Belzer Ruv asked my father, Rav Shlomo Kalisch, to compose a new niggun for the words “Pischu li shaarei tzeddek.” Since then, he composes a new tune for these words every single Yom Tov. The choir performs the new composition in Hallel, and then it’s sung at tishen for weeks after Yom Tov. One of the very early tunes, or maybe it was even the first, is a tune with great depth of feeling which was later set to the words “Habeit mishamayim” and recorded on one of Yermia Damen’s albums. Its words “Look down from Heaven and see, we have become scorned by the nations,” are unfortunately as true as ever, and it is that slow tune I like to use for “Pischu Li”.

Zanvil Weinberger, singer

There’s Pinky Weber’s chazzanus piece for “Mi Ka-Hashem Elokeinu” in the first paragraph of Hallel. I’ve used it a lot recently. It’s a beautiful niggun with an elevated feel, and somehow manages to combine emotion with creative chazzanus.

Eitan Freilich, singer

There are so many niggunim I love using in Hallel. If I had to name one for the sake of this article, it would have to be the Chabadsker Niggun, also called the Tzemach Tzeddek niggun. When you’re happy and focused on the beauty of life, you want to sing. As we sing “Hodu Lashem,” we are thanking Hashem for everything. We declare everything Hashem does is good, no matter what. To sing a niggun at that point helps us to reflect on all our troubles and tribulations in life, and gives us a moment to thrust our trust on Hashem, knowing that He has a plan. It can be a difficult concept, one that needs some moments of elevated song to appreciate.

Rivie Schwebel, singer and baal tefillah

For “Odcha Ki Anisani,” I mostly use what I consider the most beautiful niggun: Yossi Green’s “Aderaba.” As soon as “Aderaba” came out, years ago, I told Yossi how magnificent it was, and I immediately had the idea of trying it for these words. It fit perfectly, and I’ve been using it since then. The song lifts up the neshamah and takes the davening to another level.

Levy Falkowitz, singer

The classic “Mah Ashiv,” composed by Rabbi Aviezer Wolfson. It was originally sung by Leibele Haschel and then recorded by MBD on the Hallel album. It takes you through the entire paragraph, and it continues to be gorgeous, no matter how many years people are singing it. It has that emotional element, and it’s crafted to build up to a perfect climax. Positioned right in the middle of Hallel, it brings you to the more joyous sections. You won’t find many people who don’t know it, either.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 763)

Yom Tov is rich with niggunim that honor our most precious treasure

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erhaps a reason there doesn’t seem to be that buildup of songs heralding in Shavuos is that the holiday of mattan Torah is preceded by Sefiras Ha’omer. But in fact, this Yom Tov is rich with niggunim that honor our most precious treasure. Is there a story behind your favorite Shavuos niggun?

Mendy Werdyger: Forgotten Word

“Kad Yasvun Yisrael,” one of the most popular Shavuos niggunim of all time, was first recorded by Chazzan Dovid Werdyger on the Songs of Camp Kol Reenah album in the summer of 1969. The first part, “Kad yasvun Yisrael ve’askin b’simchas haTorah,” as well as the third part, “demishtakchin betzarah dilhon…” was sung in a duet by two of his sons — Mordechai, then 18, and Mendy, who was 10.

The words were said to have an illustrious provenance — the style pointed to the Zohar, and it is known that the song was sung by both the Vilna Gaon and the Chazon Ish, but Reb Dovid couldn’t locate the exact source. He therefore couldn’t verify the prefix of the word “mishtakchin” (“they forget about their own suffering and instead engage in My delight”): Was it “demishtakchin” or “shemishtakchin”? It was already time for the final recording, and still no authoritative source appeared. What to do? Reb Dovid thought of a creative solution. “Eventually, my father instructed us to sing “ooh ooh mishtakchin to sort of garble the prefix,” remembers Mendy Werdyger of Aderet Music.

(Years later, Yerushalmi researcher Yisrael Gellis unearthed an ancient machzor with the song written beneath the text of hakafos for Simchas Torah, and a comment that the Vilna Gaon had written the lyrics. And it was written “demishtakchin…”)

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 762)