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Chizuk for Modern Times

""We tend to forget our own privilege”"

 

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itan Katz's recently released tenth album weaves the simple magic which his fans have come to expect, with music based on both slow, soulful chords and lively niggunim. Thanks to some new arrangers, enhanced string arrangements add an extra layer of polish to the 12 songs.

Named Ashrecha, the album invites new and veteran listeners to share Eitan’s own inspiration, voiced in song. For example, his composition “Ashrecha Yisrael v’ashrei chelkecha” uses the opening words of the sefer Chovas Hatalmidim, authored by the Piaseczna Rebbe Hy”d. “The song is a product of my own learning,” says Eitan. “The idea is to empower the Jew with the realization of how special it is to be a Yid and be able to learn Torah. We tend to forget our own privilege.”

The collection includes a niggun for the pasuk “Ki karov eilecha hadavar me’od,” the great significance of which Eitan says recently struck him. “If you translate it loosely, these pesukim about the Torah not being distant but very near to us sound just like 2019-style chizuk! Yet they are the words of Moshe Rabbeinu, speaking Hashem’s message.” The words are set to the low part of the tune, while the high part is wordless. “Everyone is on their own journey, and everyone has their own perception of how far they have to go. So the wordless part leaves it open to personal interpretation.”

Another song, “Befi Yesharim,” a waltz-style niggun  Eitan sings in duet with Benny Friedman, was composed  while he was preparing for a concert in  Amsterdam a couple of years ago. “I  was sitting on the couch, getting ready to perform,” says Eitan, “and as I was strumming, I started to hum something and told my violinist to follow along.  ‘Befi Yesharim’ just came together  that night.”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 762)

Ashrecha
Eitan Katz
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Perfect Harmony with Avrumi Berko

"Such simple and beautiful tunes"

 

Can you think of a song that has amazing vocal arrangements?

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t’s a hard call, but in general, I feel the simpler the song is, the nicer the harmonies that can be created. For instance, Carlebach songs are very nice to harmonize with since they’re such simple and beautiful tunes. Another good example is Abie Rotenberg’s “Hamalach Hagoel,” which has been played and recorded many times with various chord progressions and beautiful vocal arrangements, because the song itself is actually quite simple.

— Avrumi Berko

 (Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 762)

Hamalach
Abie Rotenberg
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Songs for Our Eternal Gift: Moshe Chabusha

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?

 

Moshe Chabusha: Torah’s Honor Crosses Cultures

The iconic “Ashorer Shirah,” the Sephardic classic that has become synonymous with Simchas Torah, siyumim, and all Torah occasions, is part of a beautiful and moving piyut written by Rav Rafael Baruch Toledano, chief rabbi of Morocco, during the time he led the community in Meknes. The Rav brought his writings — and this song — along with him when he arrived in Eretz Yisrael and settled in Bnei Brak in 1963. Moshe Chabusha, popular chazzan and performer of traditional Sephardic song, has enjoyed the spreading popularity of this classic into Ashkenazi circles. “Two years ago, I was invited to play for hakafos sheniyos (the repeat hakafos of Motzaei Simchas Torah) at Toldos Avraham Yitzchak in Meah Shearim. I played the violin and sang, and then the Rebbe requested that I sing ‘Ashorer Shirah Lichvod HaTorah.’ As I sang, I was joined by their large chassidic choir — it was absolutely beautiful,” he says.

 

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 762)

 

Ashorer Shira
Yosi Niazof
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Back to the Campfire

I t’s that time of year again, and A Kumzitz in the Rain 4, the latest volume of acapella listening, doesn’t disappoint. Following the previous volume, A Kumsitz in the Rain 3, which featured Abie Rotenberg’s songs exclusively, producer

Doni Gross has compiled a heartwarming, mood-enhancing collection of Baruch Levine classics with a harmonious merging of both child and adult vocals — and no additional background music to break the spell.

Doni Gross says his connection with Baruch Levine goes back many years. “We first met when I was in ninth grade in Camp Rayim Mesivta. One day, in the middle of leagues, four golf carts full of head staffers from Camp Rayim drove onto the basketball court looking for Doni Gross — me. They were having a kumzitz in the forest that night, and needed a pianist. I was so excited to play with them. Baruch was one of those staff members. He played guitar, another guy brought out his drums, and I accompanied them on the keyboard. Later, I worked under Baruch as a camp counselor when he was a division head. Some of the songs on this album go back to that time, like ‘Shifchi’ and ‘Vezakeini,’ which he taught at camp long before they were released. Baruch listened to my early songs and gave me the benefit of his encouragement and professional critique.”

Besides Levine classics like “Vehu Keili” and “Vezakeini,” Doni has included songs which are rarely accredited to their composer. “Take ‘Birkas Habayis,’ for example. People tend to think it’s Abie’s song, because it first appeared on Aish,” Doni says. “Then there’s ‘Chasof,’ widely associated with Yaakov Shwekey, and ‘Shabbos Hayom (Chazeik Kiryasi),’ which Shloime Gertner sang on Say Asay. I wanted listeners to realize how many beautiful songs Baruch has actually given us.”

 (Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 759)

Kumzitz in the Rain
Doni Gross
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A Cup and a Candle

“L aner velibesamim nafshi meyachelah… im titnu li kos shel yayin leHavdalah” — this popular, upbeat Motzaei Shabbos song so often heard around Eretz Yisrael and beyond is Yemenite in origin. The words are part of a poem written by one of Yemen’s most prominent rabbis and mekubalim, Rav Shalom Shabazi (1619-1720), but the tune is much more recent. Paytanut expert Moshe Chabusha says that “Im Titnu Li” was composed and recorded in Eretz Yisrael in the 1950s by a Yemenite immigrant. And, he says, at around the same time, another great tune emerged from Yemenite circles and slowly became one of the most widely sung zemiros in Sephardic circles — the famous Yemenite “Dror Yikra.”

 (Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 759)

Laner Velibesamim
Dudu Fisher
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Much More Than the Chaz

Sherwood (Shimon) Goffin a”h, who passed away last month, was affectionately called “Chaz” (short for chazzan) by many of his friends and colleagues. However, I don’t think the title really fit him — because he was so much more than a chazzan. He was the ultimate baal tefillah, a true shaliach tzibbur. When he would finish davening, people would approach him and tell him “yasher koyach,” to which he would answer, “I hope my tefillos were accepted.”

Sherwood was the baal tefillah of the Lincoln Square Synagogue from the day it opened in 1965, and although his position was resident cantor, it was just part of what he did. He led programs, gave bar mitzvah lessons, ran shul activities, engaged in kiruv, and so much more. He felt it was his responsibility to motivate the entire congregation in davening, and he did it with all his heart and soul.

He was an expert in nusach and believed strongly that one should not change his nusach, and his tunes always appropriately matched the meaning of the words of the davening. I remember going to the studio with him to record his “Mimkomo” for Jerusalem, one of my early “all-star” albums. When it was his turn to sing, he dimmed the lights, closed his eyes, and sang from his heart. That was the only way he knew how to do it.

Sherwood, a native of Connecticut, learned in Mesivta Torah Vodaath, during which time he became a ben bayis by the Bostoner Rebbe ztz”l of Brooklyn, a relationship that endured for many years. He knew all the Rebbe’s compositions and later released an album of the Rebbe’s niggunim, in addition to six other albums he released from the 1970s and on.

He was also the voice of the Soviet Jewry movement, singing at every major rally from the beginning back in 1964, when he was pegged by Student Struggle for Soviet Jewry founders Glenn Richter and Yaakov Birnbaum to sing at the very first rally in front of the UN. Shlomo Carlebach wrote a song for it — the enduring “Od Avinu Chai,” which Sherwood helped make into a theme song for the movement over the next 25 years until the Iron Curtain came down.

He sang at every national NSCY convention for close to three decades and popularized some of the kumzitz classics of the ’70s, including “Tein Shabbat V’Tein Shalom,” the famous NSCY bentshing niggun “Harachaman Hu Yishlach Lanu Es Eliyahu Hanavi,” “Baruch Hamakom Baruch Hu,” “Kachol Velavan,” and “Hatov Ki Lo Chalu,” to name a few.

Outreach expert Rabbi Ephraim Buchwald, his close friend and associate from his years running the famed Beginner’s Minyan at Lincoln Square (Rabbi Buchwald then went on to found the National Jewish Outreach Program), told me that in 1982, he went with Sherwood to the Homowack for a cantorial convention. At one point, a 90-year-old chazzan, Cantor Samuel Vigoda, got up to sing and brought the house down. Sherwood turned to Rabbi Buchwald and said, “I hope when I’m 90, I’ll still sound like that.” Sherwood didn’t make it to 90 — he was only 77 when his neshamah was returned to HaKadosh Baruch Hu — but he left hundreds of students (singer Simcha Leiner is one them) and thousands of mispallelim who are continuing his life’s work.

On the way home from the levayah, I couldn’t help humming the tune “The Little Bird” (written in 1947 by a young woman named Malka Steinberg Saks to the Israeli tune “B’arvot Hanegev”), the anthem of hope for redemption in galus, which he made so famous decades ago (long before MBD and Tzlil V’zemer recorded it on their albums) — and these words came to mind:

The little voice was Reb Shimon’s

The amud was his stage

His tefillos reached the heavens

Every siddur every page

His nest was a shul in Manhattan

Where thousands came to pray

He davened for Mashiach

Until his final day

His nest was a shul in Manhattan

For over fifty years

He was the perfect shaliach tzibbur

Our prayers with his tears

Yehi zichro baruch.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 758)

 

Harachaman
Chazan Sherwood Goffin
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