One Of These Is Not Like The Others

Go get your kids' old Sesame Street tape, put on Burt and Earnie singing "One Of These ...." and then play the game with headlines from today's web version of The New York Times:

1. Islamist Group Is Rising Force In New Egypt
2. Thousands March To Protest Syria Killings
3. Yemen's Leader In Talks On Exit But Still Defiant
4. Opposition To Topple Canadian Government

Have a nice day, eh. Read more!

A Small and Complicated Place

So far today, I've stood in warm sunshine, been caught in torrential rains, walked back into sunshine, felt a drizzle of rain, crossed the street into sunshine but under a cloud emitting lightening bolts and thunder claps. In Israel, if you don't like the weather, you can always wait a few minutes or simply cross the street. The place is small, complicated, interconnected and constantly changing.

Yesterday, some psychotic killer planted a bomb at one of the busiest bus stops in Jerusalem. Today, the south Tel Aviv soup kitchen where I'm a volunteer had no meat or substitute protein to serve. Why? It seems the IDF is the main source of meat or meat substitutes for La Sova and similar institutions. Only today the IDF is busy trying to intercept the next bomber or missile launcher before more people get hurt. This resulted in the cancellation of the social service activities of a number of Israeli soldiers. So, the clients of a south Tel Aviv soup kitchen had to do without. Like I said. Israel is small, complicated, interconnected and constantly changing.

My cousin, Meir, and I have been planning a family outing for this Saturday in Tel Aviv. Meir was awakened Wednesday morning by a missile striking near his Be'er Sheva apartment. Our conversation turned from walking tours to "the situation." He suggested that, for now, Liz and I should avoid crowded areas. I was ready to take his advice (one should not ignore advice in these matters from a veteran Israeli) but did point out that the area we are planning to walk through this Saturday will probably be crowded. Meir said, yes, but that's a couple of days from now. So I booked a walking tour, made a reservation for lunch and began hoping for sunny skies. After all, just because today it may be raining or something may be exploding is no reason to cancel future plans. Like I said, Israel is small, complicated, interconnected and constantly changing. Read more!

Debbie Friedman of Blessed Memory

Debbie Friedman changed the world of Jewish music, providing the soundtrack for much of the Jewish world, particularly among American Jews. Even if you don't recognize her name, if you've been in a temple or synagogue, Jewish summer camp or any service or event aimed at young families during the past 3 or 4 decades, you've heard and can probably sing some of her songs. While much of her work was for the Reform movement (she began as a song leader at NIFTY camps), she has performed, or had her music performed, just about everywhere in the American Jewish world.

Debbie's style of playing and composition could best be described as coming out of the great urban folk music revival of the 60's. Her music always reminded me of Peter, Paul and Mary. This notion changed into a certainty when I was privileged to hear her jam with Peter Yarrow during the 1990 CAGE conference at Ohio State. She used modern, urban folk music as settings for prayers and other expressions of spirituality that form the soundtrack of many lives. Other than Levandovsky (whose liturgical music has been a mainstay of Ashkenazic Judaism for almost 200 years) and Carlbach (whose Hassidic-inspired melodies are the only body of work to rival Debbie's during the last half of the 20th century), I can't name anyone whose music has permeated the spritual lives of so many Jews, including me and my family.

Debbie Friedman suffered from complex ailments which ate away at her body but never dampened her spirit. She went on with her life and her life's work in spite of the physical toll it took. I guess her body had finally had enough, long before she or any of the multitude she has inspired, had had enough.

May her memory be for a blessing. Read more!

Hot Tuna - Part 2 - In Which Eytan and Jack Speak

My cousin Danny, a Young Judaean who made aliyah during his college years, is a guitar player. He supports his family by working as a respected and respectable professor of plant biosciences at Tel Aviv University. I haven't a clue what it is he does. All I know is that, after getting a tour of his lab, I kept thinking of the The Thing (James Arness as a giant plant monster from outer space who takes vengeance on a bunch of plant scientists at the North Pole for experimenting on his earth-bound relations).

Danny brought his son Eytan and one of Eytan's band mates to the Hot Tuna concert, because as a guitar playing, tenured professor, he could not allow this great educational opportunity to be missed. You might remember Eytan, the back of his head is on the right in the photograph above, from the stage dive video I sent around last year. In between high school and the army, he's doing a year of service leading teen programs for the Toronto Jewish community. Eytan is a wonderful young man who tolerates us old people very well, particularly when his Father is picking up a hefty ticket price.

We stood as close to center stage as we could get. Standing with us were several of Danny's guitar playing buddies and fellow academics. Before the band began to play, Danny and the other guitar players were talking to the two young musicians about what to watch and listen for. The guitars Jorma would use, his seemingly effortless bends and his style of picking, among other things. My contribution was to tell Eytan to watch Jack's eyebrows. By way of authenticating my credentials to engage in such high level analysis, Danny helpfully added that I had been at Woodstock and still had my tickets. I just love it when we can fulfill the mitzvah of teaching the children.

Early in the set, during a pause between songs, some members of the audience began to sing "HaYom Yom Huledet." This is the Israeli version of Happy Birthday with a melody and lyrics very different from the American song. Jack stepped to the edge of the stage and, with a look and a bit of body English, asked what the audience was singing. Eytan yelled, in English, "They're singing Happy Birthday." Jack looked right at my cousin, nodded his thanks and stepped back to begin the next song. Danny could not have been a prouder parent. It was that sort of night.

The concert audience spanned an age range of many decades. There were people as old as the musicians and some of us who clearly dated back to the Airplane days. The crowd included aging hippies who had clearly become baalei teshuvah, making aliyah from yurts in rural America to some of the older neighborhoods in Jerusalem or Tel Aviv, with tsitsit hanging out from flannel shirts and women wearing modest length, home spun style dresses and scarves. I remember thinking how one of this group looked like a cross between Jerry Garcia and Mr. Natural, just as that familiar, sweet smell of smoke went wafting by. As for the rest of the alleged grownups in the crowd, remember your stoned roommates who disappeared into the high tech bubble? Some of them may be alive and well in Tel Aviv.

But what really struck me was the large number of Isrealis who had clearly not been born when Hot Tuna got started. Israel has come a very long way from the country that prohibited a Beatles concert because rock music would subvert the morality of the nation's youth. The country has grown up and become musically hip. As cousin Danny said in mid-concert, "Isn't this a great country." I agreed. Reading3 is a 5 minute sherut ride from my apartment. This is why I come here every winter.

I would be remiss is I ended this blog without mentioning Barry Mitterhoff, Hot Tuna's mandolin player. In addition to his huge musical talent, Mr. Mitterhoff is surely the most versatile mandolin player on the planet. Danny and I had never heard anyone play serious rock music on a mandolin. How many mandolin players have you heard who can trade licks with Jorma Kaukonen? Far out, man.

When not playing with Hot Tuna, Mr. Mitterhoff plays a combination of blue grass, klezmer and swing jazz as one of The Boys in Margot Leverett and the Klezmer Mountain Boys. Some of my readers were fortunate enough to hear Margot and The Boys play at my eldest daughter's wedding. Unfortunately, Mr. Mitterhoff was on tour with Hot Tuna at the time but was very ably replaced by one of his students.

I have two unmarried daughters. They know that I know that I have no say whatsoever as to whether or when either of them gets married. But they do know that I have some very strong feelings about the musicians who will play at their weddings. The way I look at it, I'm not at risk of losing daughters, I've got two more chances to hire Barry Mitterhoff to play for my guests. How cool would that be?

Photograph by Danny Chamovitz. Used with his permission. Read more!

Hot Tuna Rocks TLV

Last Wednesday, December 22, on the day before Jorma Kaukonen's 70th birthday, Hot Tuna played at Reading 3, a club at the north end of the Tel Aviv Port. Standing in front of the stage, I was very happy to know that Jorma Kaukonen and Jack Casady still rock and we are still not worthy.

I'm from the 60's and one of the greatest bands of that era was the Jefferson Airplane. Of all the guitar heroes ever to play The Music, you can count on one hand the ones who can play with Jorma (and that's without additional fingers from drug-induced retention of vision). The man hardly moves while his fingers create cascades of complex riffs, teasing dozens of notes out of a single position on the guitar neck with those luxurious bends.

Jorma's life long friend and bassist, Jack Casady, is a show unto himself. I learned over 40 years ago that you have to get up close to the stage at an Airplane or Hot Tuna concert so you can watch Jack's bouncing eyebrows and facial expressions, accompanied by his talking or singing, Just when you think he's lost in his trance, Jack strides to the edge of the stage, making eye contact with the audience and letting us all in on the cosmic joke.

The magic underlying The Duke Ellington Orchestra was that he kept the same players together for 25 or 30 years at a time. Musicians who play together for long stretches just know, without looking or speaking, what their band mates are going to improvise in the next instant. Improvised riffs played by masters who still really love what they're playing sound spontaneous and fresh even though you may have heard pieces of them before. (Hey, even Beethoven would recycle themes and phrases.) Whether Ellington wanted to experiment with his avant-garde sacred music or just play Take the A Train, the orchestra was right there with him.

Jorma and Jack were in a high school band together 52 years ago. After their years in the Airplane, they formed Hot Tuna to throttle back a bit and play the music they really like - a mix of blues, folk and rock. Which is also music I really like. They still clearly love what they're doing. And I still clearly love to watch them do it. At a few points in the set they'd just look at each other, play something that sometimes sounded like an old Airplane riff, and smile. There is nothing so satisfying as watching people do the only thing they ever wanted to do and doing it as well as it can be done.

Photo Credits: All photographs are by Danny Chamovitz and used with permission. Read more!

So Near And Yet So Far

The good news recently has been the condemnations of the recent Rabbinical edicts forbidding Jews from allowing Arabs, Africans and other Gentiles to move into Jewish towns or neighborhoods. It is, as one commentator put it, mortifying to live in a country where Rabbis would say such a thing. So I'm pleased to note the condemnations of the Rabbis' racist rants and the defense of Israel as a democracy that have been coming from all directions (even from a few prominent Haredi Rabbis, though they seem to be saying that the anti-Gentile edicts should not stand because they prove to be bad for the Jews -- don't ask.) Add to this the schadenfreude of watching black hats in Bnei Brak, who have recreated Brooklyn without any of "Them" around, discover, to their horror, that the schvartzes are moving in and the good guys seem to be winning this one. Well, almost.

In Bat Yam, a Rosh Yeshiva-led demonstration protested the influx of Arabs into the town. The Rabbi and his warped minions were particularly upset by what they claim is the proclivity of Arab men to seduce Jewish women. Ah, miscegenation libel, haven't heard that one in many a decade. The anti-Arab demonstrators were met by a larger, counter demonstration of local residents who support maintaining good relations among neighbors, whatever their backgrounds. This was followed quickly by a strong statement from Bat Yam's Mayor saying that the Rabbi's group does not represent or speak for Bat Yam.

It's good to be reminded that there are plenty of people, Jews and Gentiles, in Israel who know the difference between right and wrong and are willing to say so publicly. I'm just not so sure that one sign held up by the Bat Yam counter demonstrators was entirely consistent with the intent of the pro-human rights crowd. The sign read: "If your sister is as ugly as you are, who would want to hit on her?" So near and yet so far.
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