Shanir Blumenkrantz and the Avantgarde Shoutouts Word from: Jake

Last Tuesday at the Stone I saw an ensemble led by Shanir Blumenkrantz, the bassist of Pharaoh's Daughter, Rashanim, and a few other bands of the circuit. Shanir was playing the oud, and the group consisted of Erik Friedlander (cellist of Masada String Trio - 'nuff said), Cyro Baptista (percussionist, leader of the Beat the Donkey), Matt Brewer (upright bass), and Satoshi Takeishi (percussion). I've been ranting about the show for three days now. Given, cello is probably the most deep and sensuous instrument out there, but on top of that, Friedlander was spinning wildest improv, and every time he took a solo it went straight into me like some sort of ecstatic electrified bucket-full - I cant even find a proper metaphor to describe. Something like "Coltrane of the classic cello." Never seen anything like it. Cyro Baptista was quite other-worldly too, though more on the sinister side - the whole time he looked as if he was shtooping somebody invisible, actually a few of those (demons or whatever) at once. Shanir, who usually takes the secondary role of the bassist, led the band seamlessly - in full control. At one point he played a piece alone, without the band. Imagine this: intense silence of the audience, just the oud building a phrase upon phrase, middle-eastern voice painting a rock'n-roll fantasy, all sorts of tones and ideas thrown in, and then all of a sudden a loud drunken voice cuts through from the street. Half a second later, Shanir finishes the phrase and plays the next one in exactly the same intonation as the voice from the street, and goes on building the improv based on this new riff, continues to spin and spin. It was an amazing moment - really, transcendent stuff.

One thing I've been thinking about after the show, is the demarcation line between music, which is merely music, and music which is pure art. These guys, like many other acts I've seen at the Stone are way past the line - art, unquestionably - unlike, say, "hassidic super-star" one-trick gimmicks. There's some really fun music out there in the world, but certain musicians choose to take off into the high art plane. What does it have to do with? My guess: the disinterest in mass appeal / critics, deep thinking about the nature of being, courage to break the self-discovered formulas, widely-wildly open mind, and small loyal audiences, fiercely dedicated to the avant-garde expression.

Sweatin Over Self-Definitions Word from: Jake

We generally tend to avoid the directly political/ideological discussions on Mima'amakim, but I'd like to post a few quotes from the recent Jay Michaelson's article on "flexidoxy" because the questions he discusses are crucial for any Jewish intellectual/artist today.

Here's the question Jay poses:

What do you call a Jew who thinks the Torah was written by people, but who keeps strictly kosher and doesn't use electricity on Shabbat? What do you call a Jew who prays at an Orthodox synagogue, but supports equal synagogue roles for women and the ordination of gay rabbis?

Here it is again, in fuller elaboration:

I liked that it [Orthodox Judaism] worked as a system, and that it was trans-subjective - that it contained my preferences, rather than catered to them, hearkening back to an imperative that transcended humanity. Most of all, it was coherent, and it worked. The people at synagogue cared more, and the people at my Shabbat dinner table sang more. They even knew the words by heart.

But I never bought into Orthodox ideology, or how I had to either pretend that biblical criticism, astronomy and evolution didn't exist, or somehow "interpret" the Torah in order to make room for them. And gradually, I came to see that Orthodox values weren't "trans-subjective" - they were just the results of other people's subjectivity. And those people had no understanding of my life, my spirituality or my sexuality, and didn't want to gain any.

At the same time, the Conservative movement, with its countless social structures, rationalizations, and, at times, equally obtuse ideologies, didn't feel like home either. I have more in common with meditating Reform Jews, spiritual Hasidim and committed Reconstructionists than with mainline, rattle-your-jewelry-on-Rosh-Hashanah Conservative and Orthodox Jews. Where do Jews like me fit into the spectrum of movements and denominations?

And somewhat of a conclusion:

... flexidox Jews have practice, but not theory. Flexidoxy is defined by its refusal to defend itself or invent rationales to justify this or that deviation from traditional religious practice. [...] I don't defend my practice or try to make it fit an ideology - two key indicators of flexidoxy. I understand that I'm on a slippery slope, but I've found a home there.

I'm very excited about the article, even though I'm not entirely happy with it. Jay sites "sincerity" of intention as the solution to his dilemmas, which I think is pure kindergarden; similarly, some heavy questions are left undiscussed - for instance, separation from the community and the loneliness of blurred self-definition. This here is not a happy-go-lucky or trendy phenomenon: any "sincere" religious search elicits, above all, hard-core angst, pain, loss. You can't just inhale prana (or sm'n else) and ease it. At the same time, the relief I felt reading the article was tremendous - yes, there are people out there thinking the same thoughts, going through the same processes. Bless up to that.