PRODUCERS DONI GROSS, NAFTALI SCHNITZLER, AND YITZY WALDNER OPEN THE BACK ENTRANCE OF THE STUDIO TO SHARE SOME TRADE SECRETS

IN the past, it was easy to spot the music producer in the studio. He was the guy in the control room overseeing everything that was happening during the session: coaching the singers, guiding the musicians, talking with the engineers, and dealing with the budgets.

Today, though, as technology has evolved and laptops have turned into mobile recording studios, anyone with a little knowhow can record a song in the comfort of their own bedroom or basement. It would seem that for artists, it’s now easier than ever to become their own producers, but in fact, that’s why the role of the music producer is actually more important and relevant than ever. That’s because, in addition to being responsible for making albums happen, they are also creative and technical leaders (and talented studio psychologists when necessary), professionals who have the breadth of knowledge and creativity to give the artist the inspiration, advice, and guidance to take his natural talents to the next level.

In the rapidly changing and highly-competitive field of Jewish music, the producer is often the linchpin when it comes to the divide between a star-quality or mediocre-level product. And which artist today doesn’t want to make his album the best it can be?

PRODUCERS DONI GROSS, NAFTALI SCHNITZLER, AND YITZY WALDNER OPEN THE BACK ENTRANCE OF THE STUDIO TO SHARE SOME TRADE SECRETS

DONI GROSS credits his parents who invested in him, buying studio equipment for him when he was in eleventh grade, seeing a potential he couldn’t visualize himself. “My parents were very excited about a song I had written and recorded in a studio that my friend had set up in his grandmother’s house. I had no idea what I was doing, but they laid out the money for my initial equipment.” Doni was 18 when he got a few friends together and recorded his first Kumzitz in the Rain a cappella album, but for years after that, his music was just a hobby.

He learned in BMG, then married and moved to Eretz Yisrael, but returning to Flatbush turned out to be the right move for his music. “I met Tzvi Silberstein, who was looking for songs for his first album,” Doni recalls. “He bought one off me, then asked me if I felt comfortable arranging it. I said, ‘I think I can do it.’ ” A year later, Silberstein released a duet album, and the young arranger got to meet and work with Jewish music greats. He hasn’t looked back since, producing some of today’s best loved albums, but when asked about a favorite project, he says it would have to be working with Abie Rotenberg on the rebirth of Journeys.

YITZY WALDNER started out in the music world by singing. He was the Pirchei soloist who sang “Shema Hashem vechaneini, Hashem heyei ozer li” at HASC’s A Time for Music II, acted the role of Albert on Shmuel Kunda’s The Longest Pesach, was a soloist with Amudai Shaish and sang for Reb Eli Teitelbaum and Country Yossi too. He soon progressed to composing songs, and produced his first album in 1997. Over the years, over 450 of his compositions have been released. Yitzy is a chassid who works from his home in Lakewood, but makes it a priority to connect all around. “I try not to get stuck in my own style, but instead connect to the neshamah of whoever I’m writing a song for, whether he’s chassidish, litvish, or modern.”

NAFTALI SCHNITZLER says his upbringing in Kiryas Yoel, Monroe, means that it’s only natural for him to have an organic feel for chassidish music. He balances that with an expert finger on the pulse of up-to-the-minute musical tastes, to arrange and produce songs that resonate far and wide. From the time he was approached by a friend in yeshivah to produce a Purim album at age 18, he’s always looked for opportunities and run with them. Working as a one-man-band, his big break came when an unfamiliar number on his phone screen was a call from MBD, asked him for arrangements for the Kissufim album. That’s twenty years of memorable intros, creative productions, and impeccable arrangements from this Williamsburg-based linchpin of the music industry, and albums with his House of Music label — including the Yingerlach series— have been part of our soundtrack ever since.

WITH SO MANY HOPEFUL SONGWRITERS OUT THERE AND SONGS CONSTANTLY BEING SENT TO YOU, HOW DO YOU CHOOSE THE ONES YOU THINK WILL WORK?

Doni Gross:

That depends on the singer. If it’s a new artist, he’ll generally sing what he thinks people want to hear. He might try to sing something with touches of Ishay Ribo style, because he thinks that’s what appeals. But for more well-established and top-tier singers, where we get the feeling that the people out there are waiting to hear from them, we work more authentically, choosing material that talks to our hearts.

People are more and more thirsty for connection nowadays. They don’t just want to sit down and be entertained by a song — they want to sing along and express themselves too. And that happens best when the singer genuinely connects with his message. People tell me that while they’ve never met Joey Newcomb, they feel like they’re his friends through his music. Because what they want is realness and connection — they want to sing together.

I don’t think there’s a formula for what makes a hit song. I’ve been wrong many times, with songs that didn’t really go anywhere. But if the song talks to me and it talks to the singer, that’s a good start, and we don’t overthink it.

Sometimes, it’s the timing that makes a hit. Think “A Yid Never Breaks.” It was inspired by Covid. Benny liked the song enough to sing it, but wasn’t as excited as I was. He was dragging his feet, he thought it was maybe a little too cheesy. The song came out close to Sefirah, it came out pretty nice, but what really made it go viral was the tragedy that followed. All of a sudden, Lag B’Omer turned into devastation, and the song “A Yid Never Breaks” became part of the expression of it. Timing, in this case unfortunate timing, is bashert.

I know that cancer patients and others going through major challenges are holding on to that song. It became part of contemporary frum culture, and it has actually helped people get through tough parts of life, helps them hold on to tomorrow. And nothing means more to me than that.

Naftali Schnitzler:

I believe I have a good sense of smell to sniff out songs that will do well, but of course there are exceptions. When it came to Shmueli Ungar’s “Lekuvid Shabbos” on his Mach a Bracha album, I knew it would be a hit. Another producer whom we were working with wanted something more mainstream, so we put the song “Amcha Yisroel” onto the album, which never really made it. On the other hand, on Gershy Uri’s recent Zman album, we put on two dance songs. I didn’t think either would go too far, but they did. And “Eizehi,” a slow Yiddish song that I was sure would make a big splash, didn’t… yet. I thought “Shivisi,” on the last Yingerlach album, would be a big success, but it just wasn’t. Yet the album’s last song, “Keil Melech Ne’eman,” which I wasn’t sure about, is super popular, used in dozens of chassidishe chadarim for davening.

The truth is that these days I don’t work like that — I no longer try to predict hits and produce them. Instead, I try to choose songs that I’m interested in listening to and that the artist likes, and we try to produce them as perfectly as we can.

I look back at “Far Dir” and “Davenen” and “Yodati” and “Kretchmer”— and I know I wasn’t trying to create hits, just beautiful songs. Actually, the more I don’t try to create hits but put myself authentically into the song itself, the better the result. I’m thinking of songs like Shloime Gertner’s “Neshoma Vi Bist Di” composed by Shimshi Neiman, Arele Samet’s “Sinai Sinai Lo Nikroh” (“Adoneinu Bar Yochai”) composed by Motty Ilowitz, and even the Yingerlach’s “Meloich” (“Zol Shoin Zein”) composed by Meshulam Greenberger. I didn’t think “Meloich” would be a dance track, and I didn’t predict that the other two would be hits. What I learned is that the more authentic I am, giving my best to the music without envisioning its reception, the more the song works.

Another secret to success is to have in mind a very specific target market, to focus on inspiring a particular group. We target some songs for bochurim, some for families with children, some for mature listeners.  For example, on Gershi Uri’s album, our target market was bochurim in the 18 to 22 range. Yingerlach was envisioned for the very traditional, conservative chassidish clientele. By honing in on a specific target, your product and packaging improve.

Yitzy Waldner:

Well, I’m first and foremost a composer, so I listen to songs with a very critical ear. The key to song choice is that it has to be something relatable to the singer, a song that fits his character. We sometimes try all kinds of songs, and when we find the right one, which the artist connects to, I can feel the air in the room opening up. I once sat with Benny Friedman, working on three different ideas, and nothing was clicking. He said to me, “Maybe we could change the language?”

“What? Like Russian?” I asked. I’d learned a little Russian for kiruv when I was younger, so I joked to him, “Slava bogu!”

“Charasho!” he responded.

Benny’s eyes lit up and the atmosphere became alive.

Now, how many singers in the industry could have sung “Charasho”? Benny, with his fun-filled character, his manner of speaking, hit it home.

Still, because I sit with a lot of singers to write songs for them, I sometimes get into sticky situations if a gorgeous song comes to me as I’m composing at the keyboard, and the singer really likes it. Even if I don’t feel that song would be best performed by this particular singer, there’s nothing I can do — I’m almost beholden to give it to him. But I have to accept that because inspiration can’t be controlled, it’s bashert.

As music is my parnassah, I don’t discriminate in who I work with. I work with anyone who has the singing ability and budget for the project.

DO YOU MANAGE TO LISTEN TO ALL OF THE DEMOS THAT WANNABE COMPOSERS SEND YOU? DO YOU ENCOURAGE THEM TO TRY TO GET THEIR SONGS OUT THERE?

Naftali Schnitzler:

Four years ago, someone sent Shmueli Ungar and me the song “Ah Zechiya,” so there you have an unknown composer coming out with a great song. I’ve had a few; so yes, it does happen. I’d say, if you’re passionate about a song you’ve composed, send it to the artists. Just don’t think you’re going to make money, and don’t think it’s going to be easy.

We have a lot of people sending us compositions by email and pressuring us to listen to them. I also get, “Can I come over to show you my songs, I compose all the time and I have amazing stuff.” If the title is too overdone, like another “Shivti B’veis Hashem” song, I don’t even open it, but if the title looks fresh, I can tell within two minutes if it will work or not. I usually don’t respond, because if I do, it means there will be a whole email correspondence about why the song doesn’t work.

It doesn’t mean people aren’t creative — everyone is creative. Just look at how many women can cook beautifully and creatively every single week, but that doesn’t mean they’re all going to be world-class, Michelin-starred chefs. Well, everyone can compose too. But the market has reached a peak right now, so to add something, to have a message that’s fresh and really cuts through the noise, is rare.

We have great composers out there, and there are more composers than there are singers, so it doesn’t feel like we really need more. So unless you’re bringing something very new to the scene, there isn’t much space — although it’s true that people who can afford to pay have easier access, and sometimes they even pay the artists to record and release their songs.

It takes a lot of time, effort and dedication to compose right and make a song work. The people in the industry work hard in music every day in order to advance — it’s not effortless. Not long ago, after I heard someone singing grammen at a mitzvah tantz in Lakewood and realized he has great talent, this person sent me some raw compositions that had potential. But this man is a menahel in a yeshivah, and he’s just too busy to invest the time to move his music up.

Doni Gross:

I get innundated with new songs from new composers, totalling hundreds of songs per month, and I admit I’m not as good as I should be about responding. Although people expect a response too. I have an assistant now, who helps me out with trying to respond to the huge volume of stuff that comes in, and if the reply is in the negative, people write back, “What doesn’t he like about the song?” Sometimes people send in one or two songs, and if I’m not interested, they say, “Okay, see attached, I’m sending you another five ideas.” But be aware that if you send a producer more than one or two songs, it becomes completely overwhelming. Also, songs are important to singers — they won’t sing something they don’t love just because you are offering it free.

If it’s a totally new composer, I usually listen to the first few seconds of the track. If I see any potential, then I’ll listen to more material from that sender. Once someone has broken through and had his music released somewhere, I’ll take it more seriously. I know that others are better at this — Benny Friedman is amazing, he listens to every single song that comes his way. That’s because he sees past the name and looks at the song on its own merit — he doesn’t care whether the composer is a big name or has any name at all.

Yitzy Waldner:

I get songs from all over the world, and I still remember when I was starting out, trying to get my songs “out there,” so I always try to listen to these songs once. Mostly the senders are teenagers or 20-somethings, because every bochur with a guitar is a composer, but I’ve also gotten songs from very serious people, including rabbanim.

The problem is that the senders ask me for my opinion, and I don’t like giving it. In a person’s mind, the song they just created is the best song ever, so how can I tell them it’s not good? I don’t want to break someone’s spirit, so if the song is a train wreck, I try to delay responding. But then they send more emails, checking if I’ve listened to the song yet. I don’t want to lie, but how do I tell the guy his song is bad? He’s also a child of Hashem. Typically, if I have to respond, I try to find something positive and offer something constructive.

Somehow, everyone expects Shmueli Ungar to sing their song. I was asked on the Kishronos program on Kol Mevaser to give advice to all the young composers, and I answered that they should listen really carefully to Shmueli’s albums, and see if they honestly feel that their song could be the next track. Is it really as good as Hershy Weinberger’s “Le’olam Yehei Odom?”

When I get requests to “just show this song to Shwekey,” I always respond that I’m not a broker. But of course, if I’d get something I thought was suitable for Yaakov, though, I would show it to him.

The thing is that there is a much larger pool of songwriters than singers. I get a lot of rejections for my own compositions, and I don’t get offended. For rookie songwriters, some of the options are either paying a singer to release the song, or making a demo yourself and putting it out online. Maybe you’ll get 400 listeners, and maybe one of them will be interested in more.

DOES THE ARTIST HAVE A SAY IN SONG SELECTION, OR IS IT ALL IN THE HANDS OF THE PRODUCER?

Yitzy Waldner:

Forty years ago, 90 percent of the time, the producer chose the songs and told the singer exactly how to sing them. But today the producer is more of a friend and partner to the singer. If I’m working with a successful singer, I don’t impose my veto power, because I don’t have any — it just wouldn’t work. With Yaakov Shwekey, for example, we know each other so well that although I’m composing at the piano and he’s sitting behind me, I still know, without even turning around to see his reaction, whether he’ll like the song or not.

A rookie singer, though, is different. For example, back when Uri Davidi started out, he wanted me to make the decisions. However, I pushed him to take the reins, to connect personally to the material before agreeing to sing it.

When an artist is overloaded with opinions from all sides, it can get frustrating for everyone. Then being a producer means having him step out of his comfort zone and helping him see a broader vision. In order to make a singer stand out, the three basics — the message, melody, and emotion — all have to be really robust. And, he has to have a great voice.

Doni Gross:

I want the artist to connect to the song, and if he really feels it’s not for him, I won’t go ahead. But sometimes I feel that the artist would be more connected to it if he could hear how he sounds, so I’ll do a demo so he can hear it better.

The song selection is obviously not just a cherry on top, it’s really a big deal. Once we have the songs, the album can go quickly, but it can take a while to get those songs. I’m working with Benny Friedman on his next album, and we’ve probably demoed 100 songs already.

I heard Avraham Fried say in an interview that back in the day, songs were used as a form of entertainment or inspiration, but today, with so much anxiety, people seem to hold onto songs for chizuk to get through the days and months. Today’s leading singers have a sense of that achrayus, knowing they have a certain capacity to shape the messages out there, and I feel that achrayus too.

Naftali Schnitzler:

It’s 100/100, meaning it’s up to both of us and we both need to be 100 percent happy. When someone comes to me, I can usually offer him a great menu of possible songs, and all he has to do is pick his favorites. One artist came to me after he’d been working for over a year to assemble a list of songs for his album. During the first week we were working together, I brought him six or seven songs that were right for him.

I would say that I work with two types of singers. Some see themselves purely as singers. They’ve been gifted with beautiful voices that they know can move or excite people, and singing is what they want to do. Working with this type of singer is less complex: As long as he likes the song, everything is good, and he’s ready to take it. Others have a more discriminating, artistic approach, where they view themselves not as singers but as artists, and with those people I sit down for much longer to work things out.

Although I’m a composer, I don’t really push my own stuff. I was working with Gershi Uri for a couple of years, during which time I showed him a lot of songs that didn’t work for him, and only then, in desperation, I showed him my own material.

The singers I work with are often starters, because nowadays, veterans don’t always want to pay for a producer — they feel they already know what works. Sometimes I think that this may be an error, that singers could do even better if they’d stick to their own gift, the art of singing, and leave the understanding and vision of what will work to the producers. As a producer, I focus on the music but also on the brand. It’s not just about knowing technique, it’s about creating a specific piece of art, to further the singer’s career and brand.

HOW DO YOU CHOOSE WHICH SONG WORKS FOR A PARTICULAR SINGER? HOW DO YOU MAKE THE SHIDDUCH HAPPEN?

Doni Gross:

Well… Abie writes his own songs. Baruch Levine writes his own, and so does Joey Newcomb. The songs written for Benny are usually so Benny Friedman, they just match his personality.

I trust the artists I work with, and I really believe in their talents. I don’t want to recreate them according to my vision, but to reach deep in, and pull the most out of each artist’s gift.

Naftali Schnitzler:

In my view, as long as the singer likes the song and it’s recorded properly, any song can work for any singer. It just depends how the song is sung. For example, Shmueli Ungar’s “Keil Mistater” was originally written for another singer. Since Shmueli liked it, we made it work and feel natural for him, so he sings it successfully in his character.

Yitzi Waldner:

I look at the singer, get him to sing a couple of different songs. I look at what type of voice he has. Can he go high and shine on the high notes? Can he sing low and then surprise his listeners with high notes?  If he feels in his head that he has limitations, maybe I can open him up and show him what he can really do. Then I look at his personality: Is the message of this song a message he is able to convey with emotion? Look at Shwekey’s recent song, “Dance My Fears Away” — it’s just so him. Could it even have worked for, say, a kumzitzer like Naftali Kempeh?

WAS THERE A SONG THAT YOU PUSHED THROUGH DESPITE OTHER PEOPLE’S DOUBTS AND QUESTIONS? HOW DID IT TURN OUT?

Yitzi Waldner:

“Muchanim,” by Uri Davidi. Uri liked it, but everyone who he asked told him not to do it. Going from a major to a minor in a dance track doesn’t generally make sense, and the song also switches key between the verse and the chorus. But I told him it would be a hit song.

Naftali Schnitzler:

“Lekuvid Shabbos.” Shmueli Ungar and Hershy Weinberger didn’t love it, but I pushed it through. There was “Velo Neivosh” by Meshulam Greenberger. And Yingerlach’s “Achas Sha’alti.” And wait, Yingerlach in general. I sent the first Yingerlach album to a few people I trusted. Their response was, “Biggest mistake of your life! This album has no excitement.” And look what a hit album it was.

Doni Gross:

The song that needed a little push, when the singer just wasn’t feeling it as much as I was, was Joey’s “Mi Ke’amcha Yisrael.” He wrote it on a trip to Poland one evening, after visiting the site of a concentration camp. The group naturally felt very down about what they had seen that day, and Joey spontaneously began to sing “Mi ke’amcha Yisrael” in the dining room, giving over the message that despite the torture and the efforts to destroy us, Klal Yisrael lives on, continuing to live with limud haTorah and chesed and all of our principles intact. The group began to sing “Oy yoy yoy ashreinu,” with some lyrics written on the spot, and the repeated “Mi K’amcha Yisrael” refrain.

When we sat together after the trip, Joey played me his song ideas. “Is that it?” I asked. “And one kiddy song,” he said, and played Mi Ke’amcha Yisrael. I loved it.

I demoed the song, without words, and I knew it was good, but he still didn’t like it.

I told Joey that I thought the song was so special, I’d like to send it to Benny Friedman to see if he would collaborate. Benny’s response was, “I love it! Let’s do it together!”

I didn’t know the song would be a huge hit, but I felt it had something special.

IS THERE A GENRE OF MUSIC NOT COMMON IN THE FRUM WORLD THAT YOU’D LIKE TO DO AT SOME POINT?

Yitzi Waldner:

Everything’s been done, but some things are not done enough. Our attention seems very focused on 6/8 and 4/4 ballads, and on disco and dance-style music, or the slower dance music, like Mordechai Shapiro’s genre of 100 bpm (i.e. “Sechar Mitzvah” style). I wouldn’t mind if rock rhythms came back, solid songs like we had in the 1980s like MBD’s “Mashiach” of “Yidden,” “Avraham Yagel,” or Dedi’s “Chevron Sheli.” That rhythm used to be mainstream, but at the moment it’s disregarded and neglected. Although you do hear more of it in Israel, like Shwekey’s “Hein Am” and “Am Yisrael,” which are still big there. I love that energy, or even the energy of slow rock ballads and open rock sounds.

I’d also love to see more big-band style. Levy Falkowitz has touched on it, and it’s very creative. We could do with more of that.

Naftali Schnitzler:

If I wanted to do it, I’ve done it.

But hey, there’s one thing I haven’t yet done — my own meditative album of music as healing. I like Ishay Ribo’s music, and would like to go for something like that, a very intimate musical feeling, not rich music, with pesukim and concepts expressed in simple yet deep poetic lyrics — and in Yiddish.

Doni Gross:

Boogie Woogie. But stay tuned, because we are doing it now, on Benny’s upcoming album! Boogie Woogie is a blues kind of genre, and Benny was looking to give it a try. He came up with the line “Boogie Woogie, go meshuggi” and got his brothers to write more lyrics. Very cool and fun song.

HOW DO YOU DEVELOP YOUR VISION FOR THE VIBE A SONG SHOULD HAVE?

Yitzy Waldner:

As I’m a songwriter as well as a producer, and I work with arrangers, the lines are somewhat blurred. When I write a song, I usually hear the way I want the song to sound. For example, when I wrote “United We Stand” on Yaakov Shwekey’s Guf Uneshama, I heard the rumble and the roar, the piano, and I designed the filtered kick. The arranger worked off my inspiration and imagery. But your inspiration can be vetoed, and you might feel your song has been ruined. When I composed “Dance the Fear Away,” I gave it to Shwekey with a tempo of 155, but the arranger, Ahrele Nachshoni, brought it down to 146. He took out a verse and gave me a new chord structure. At first I questioned it, but once I ingested what he had done, I realized it was an improvement. I wrote a new melody for the low part of the song. So that was a musical marriage between the producer and the arranger.

Naftali Schnitzler:

My main mission is to keep the listener in mind, so that not one second is boring. And while anyone can put shtick on a song, complicated music often takes away from the message. We like to keep it simple so the song and the artist cut through. I don’t innovate for the sake of being different, but in order to make the biggest possible platform to present the song. “Lekuvid Shabbos,” for example, starts with the atmosphere of Shabbos and finishes with the siren. If it’s a fun song, I will put on jazz rhythms, or rock, or swing. For kumzitz songs, I like to keep things simple, so that the music can carry the message.

Doni Gross:

In general, I develop the vibe by doing demos. I spend a lot of my time creating demos. A digital demo of a song, using virtual instruments, or a demo with just piano and vocals, can create a vibe without spending a single dollar. You try different sounds and different vibes until you hit the spot.

I do write arrangements myself, but I outsource as well, especially when I’m looking for diversity in a project. Sometimes I write the arrangements myself but outsource to Yisroel Lamm or Leib Yaacov Rigler for the string section. If you want diversity in an album, and you have the budget, using different arrangers is great. It boils down to diversity versus control of the project.

WITH SO MANY ARRANGERS OUT THERE, HOW DO YOU FIND THE RIGHT ONE FOR EACH SONG?

Doni Gross:

I’m a producer and an arranger, so I’m usually pretty involved myself. When I arranged most of the last Journeys album, I did it with Abie Rotenberg sitting behind me. That was a great collaboration — he pushed a higher level of arrangements and production out of me and maybe I pushed something out of him. I think I got to certain places that I wouldn’t have gotten to if I was sitting alone.

If I’m arranging for Shalsheles, or Baruch Levine, for example, I know their style, and I have to pull out the best music for their sound. But if I’m using another arranger, I know that I have to give them space — they can’t be totally tied down by my vision. I like arrangers who have an opinion and passion and counter my ideas with their own, but although we have different perceptions, we work with mutual respect. Even if we don’t agree musically, we can never let it get personal.

Naftali Schnitzler:

I send songs to Moshe Laufer when I want a nice, oldish feel, to Mona Rosenblum for a philharmonic feel, and to Leib Yaacov Rigler to get a sweeter taste, to take the song a bit out of the box. If we just want the music to translate the message of the song, I write it myself, or Doni Gross is great at that too. Over the past few years, I’ve been working more on my own, and as I’m seeing success with my own arrangements, I have less need to outsource songs to someone new who doesn’t really get my tastes. I still like to send some of the Yingerlach songs to Moshe Laufer, when I’m looking for a Reb Moshe Goldman type of feel, because he arranged Reb Moshe’s material. I think we’re back to the days when the listeners feel, “Just give me a nice song,” and not “I want a really creative piece of music.”

Yitzy Waldner:

Back when I was producing Yaakov Shwekey’s Musica album, we were missing one song, and Hashem sent me “Tadlik et Ha’eish.” A gifted arranger in Eretz Yisrael had asked me to give him a chance at a dance track, and I sent it to him. The arrangement he sent back wasn’t great. He did it again, working with a friend, and it came out better, nice, but still, not the dance feel we wanted. And he tried a third time. It still wasn’t there.

At that point, we had to find someone else, and we didn’t want to make another mistake. We went to Daniel Kapler — he’s the one who arranged “Charosho” — and Daniel got the explosive feeling of the song perfectly. He turned it into fire.

It’s a very painful decision to take a production away from the arranger who started out on it, implying that he doesn’t have the skill. On the other hand, I feel that I can’t betray the song by not doing it right. As for this guy in Eretz Yisrael, is still a close friend and we still work together.

IS MOST OF THE WORK DONE BEFORE RECORDING, OR DOES THE MAGIC HAPPEN ON THE SPOT? 

Yitzi Waldner:

A song can really shift between your concept and the final product. I do a lot of vocal coaching, giving the singer harmony while he records. On Shwekey’s A Toast to Life, for example, Yaakov was knee-deep in recording his vocals, when I had the idea of adding in the adlibs, the whistles, the responses, and the “Yeah yeah yeah.” It took on a whole new life. Rather than just repeating the high part, the additions built up a new layer of magic and nuance. Yaakov was standing at the mic, and he just kept going and going.

I recently did a song with Shulem Lemmer for an organization, and it started to grow like that too. I wanted to add in not just a layered harmony but go from a different spot, so people could sing along with the ad-lib line instead of the melody. Shulem had never recorded here before and he was sceptical about adding in, but I got him to trust me and do it. He’s a truly gifted professional and the effect was beautiful.

When Uri Davidi recorded his “Tefillah Sheli,” the arranger, Daniel Kapler, was here with us. I had a last-minute feeling that the song was missing a guitar solo. Kapler said, “Just give me the line into the mic and I’ll record it.” To my surprise, he kept my vocal and used effects to turn it into a guitar sound. If you’re a producer with an open mind and songwriting experience, you can do a lot of things in the studio. It’s pretty exciting, and sometimes I even surprise myself.

Doni Gross:

The magic happens on the spot. You prepare and prepare, and the best parts sometimes even happen by mistake. I’ve had a singer try something and go a little off-tune, then we decide that there could be something in there that we could fine tune and use as a cool shtick. I’ve hit a wrong chord on the piano by mistake, then realized we could use it. That’s why I tell singers to “mess up with confidence.”

For Baruch Levine’s “Zeh Hakatan,” we had the low part of the song, and the high part was “Yismach avicha, avicha ve’imecha, yismach avicha, avicha ve’imecha.” But when we were already recording in the studio, it occurred to me that the high part might be better not as a high part, but an intro or a bridge. We discussed it, Baruch took the mic, and on the spot, he came up with what became the new high part: “Kesheim shenichnas kein yikaneis, leTorah lechuppah ulemaasim tovim…”

When I worked on Aish with Abie and Shlomo Simcha, Abie sang a line, and I said, “That’s great, but it’s not the way the song goes.”

He said, “The song doesn’t exist yet. Which way do you like better?”

For Abie, nothing is written until it’s out there. You can keep an open mind, and don’t have to keep rigidly to what you first wrote, although most people automatically get used to what they first wrote and are reluctant to change. As a producer, I’ve learned a lot from Abie’s attitude.

Naftali Schnitzler:

When it comes to music, I create a sketch for the musicians when they come into the studio. But I continue playing around electronically, restructuring, until the last minute. “Mach a Bracha” had five versions, and we finished it right on the spot.

HOW DO YOU FEEL OUT SUCH A DIVERSE CROWD OF LISTENERS? DO YOU WORK OFF FEEDBACK, OR DO YOU LISTEN TO YOUR OWN INNER VOICE?

Doni Gross:

The feedback I truly value is from regular people, not those in the music industry. I’ll play a song to my wife to hear whether the song is speaking to her, rather than going for a professional second opinion.

When music is real, natural, and sincere, it reaches people, and every singer has his own personality and style that he should be true to. That’s how they’ll connect to the audience.

Years ago, as a new producer, I used to follow the trends of what people wanted to hear, but today we have the privilege of focusing on the music and setting the agenda. As Abie says, “A Jewish song of any kind is only precious if and when it brings us closer to Hashem.”

I would say that Abie, who has his own parnassah outside of the music scene, always spoke from his inner voice. On Journeys 5, which I had the privilege to co-produce with Abie, he included three Holocaust songs — because that’s what moved him. Today, when artists are making their money from the industry, they have to cater to an audience, and by definition, that is not always as authentic.

I’ll give you an example of the diversity of our audience and how some artists manage to reach them. A couple weeks ago, I met someone I haven’t seen in years, and I’m not sure how observant he is today. He moved away from his family, and he’d come back to New York for a family simchah. He told me he hadn’t listened to Jewish music in years, but when the recent Journeys Volume 5 album popped up on Spotify, he listened, and he was inspired. That’s Abie’s legendary gift — the ability to keep messages vague enough that they can touch any Jew, but specific enough to actually touch you.

Naftali Schnitzler:

I listen to my intuition, because that’s what Hashem gifted me with. I used to play weddings, but I’ve stopped for now. I couldn’t read the crowds very well there in the wedding halls, although I do like the stage, and it’s possible I’ll come back. If I do, it would be to bring something very fresh. My gift is reading the crowd from the outside.

Yes, I get a bit of feedback here and there, but feedback is a tough one, because it’s hard to know who to listen to. Looking at the music around helps give me perspective, but intuition comes from Hashem. It’s better for me to be deaf to the noise, and tap into what people want to hear using my gut. I’ve made mistakes too, but usually, following my feelings is the right way to go.

Yitzi Waldner:

Feedback? Ten people means ten opinions. When I began to produce Yaakov Shwekey’s music back in 2017, we got a lot of flak. We had changed things up and moved away from his early sound. After Maamin Benissim was released, we both felt like we had stepped into a cold puddle. But within a few days, the feedback was off the charts. It had taken a minute for people to get used to the new ideas. Everyone’s neshamah connects to different music, and I’ve learned to take feedback with a pinch of salt.

We look at the market, but we also have to look at what we are trying to achieve. There is such diversity in the trends — there’s the bochurim market, the wedding market, and the “Ata Zocher” in Madison Square Garden trend. Social media might focus only on wedding clips, but the songs for that market get the light of day only for a few minutes. The producers push certain songs through media and marketing, but to me a successful song is the one a guy puts on in his car on the way to work.

We’re not just working to put out good songs, we’re trying to make the singer stand out. If you want to be a wedding singer, follow the wedding trends and put out wedding songs. Ishay Ribo is a successful artist, but not a wedding singer. If you want to make money leading kumzitzes, it doesn’t make sense to put out a dance track. Look at Naftali Kempeh —he knows who he is and works on that. And kumzitz is a huge trend of its own right now.

The day that “Dance your Fears Away” came out, someone called me to share that he was listening to it in the car with his son, who had anxiety about sleepaway camp. “The song was written for him,” he shared. Have I gotten some feedback that the song is too modern, a secular-sounding song? Yes. I don’t listen to non-Jewish music, so how could my song be secular? The secular world doesn’t do melodies anymore, they just do loops, so if it has melody, message, and emotion, to me it’s a Yiddishe song. The song might be too modern for the yeshivish guy in Lakewood or for the Vizhnitz guy in Monsey, but it likely is reaching many neshamos around the world in need of these messages, as we have seen in thousands of emails and messages over the years. Klal Yisrael is big — maybe this song is not talking to you, but that’s okay.

WHAT DOES A PRODUCER’S DAY LOOK LIKE?

Doni Gross:

I try as much as possible to work on a normal schedule. My father knew some singers from way back, and he used to tell me that some were very disciplined, while some worked through the nights.

To be honest, the singers have it much harder than we do. Travel seems glamorous, but it’s not easy. I sometimes have singers running in to record vocals, with an Uber coming in 20 minutes to get them to JFK. And they’re always nervous about losing their voice. My consolation is that I get to stay at home — my studio is in my basement. Even if things are very hectic, my kids come and spend time after school. But of course, there are deadlines, and that means sometimes I’m working until 4 a.m.

My wife is a big tzaddeikes, she takes care of everything. But I’ll admit, if I had an entirely regular schedule, I would never have produced and released this volume of music. I view it as a huge zechus to produces music that inspires Klal Yisrael, and that bigger picture can keep me going through the late nights.

Naftali Schnitzler:

I honestly believe that you can have a regular schedule. I used to work more at night, but I now get up early, and work until five or six in the afternoon. Since I work a lot with people in Eretz Yisrael, I like the early hours. From time to time, people ask me to do something at night, but otherwise, I confine it to hours.

Yitzi Waldner:

I try to have a firm schedule, and I have a learning seder during the day and learn in a kollel at night. Music is not an emergency, although the time differences can be a challenge — I work with people in Eretz Yisrael and England. There have been times I’ve had to jump out of bed to the basement studio at 1 a.m., because the mixing engineer or the guitarist needed me to send something, and it’s still part of their working day. Being involved in Jewish music is a huge zechus, but work is work, and deadlines are deadlines, even if you love what you do.

When I was younger, more studio time meant more hock, more geshmak, but as you get older, you get more mature about your priorities, such as family and learning time.

DO YOU ENJOY LISTENING TO YOUR OWN ALBUMS?

Yitzi Waldner:

After the intensity of working for many months on an album, I’m done with it. The release is so exciting, but I’m just burned out. I can’t play it for at least five months after it’s out. Once I do, though, I’ve also learned to let go of my perfectionist side and not second guess my music.

Naftali Schnitzler:

Yes, although for the first few weeks, I can’t listen. That cooling-off period used to take longer, but now my kids push me, because they want to enjoy the music already.

Doni Gross:

Not right away, for sure. I don’t listen till months later.

It’s a little bit painful to listen to my old work, but I call that growing pain. If you’re thrilled with everything you did two years ago, you’re not growing. I could still love the song, but there is always something I could have done better today.

HOW ABOUT OTHER ALBUMS THAT YOU WEREN’T INVOLVED WITH?

Naftali Schnitzler:

I enjoy them, I reach out to other artists, and I compliment others more than I would commend myself. I don’t get critical, although I might notice pieces I would do differently.

Yitzi Waldner:

I never used to listen, but I do now because the 24Six streaming app means easy access. I listen either to enjoy a song, or with a critical ear to see if I should contact the arranger. I like to keep up with who the new talents are.

Doni Gross:

When I listen, I’m in learning mode. I can learn plenty from another producer’s work, or even from someone else’s demo. I don’t view other producers as my competition, but as contemporaries. We are all creating different sounds, but inevitably we are feeding off each other. I definitely listen to whatever my time allows me to, I enjoy others’ music, and I’m not scared to reach out and compliment them either.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1033)