These questions will not be answered in any kind of systematic way. Instead, like a good piece of music, the discussion will thread through various themes, and just when you think an argument is nearing its denouement a new question arises on the echoes of what previously seemed resolved. With the development of ideas on many levels, we can get a better understanding of why music is so important to us all.

First, what is the very nature of music? A cursory investigation reveals that it does not really exist at all. For music is but a series of notes linked by a certain rhythm, but each note by itself is nothing more than an isolated sound. It is only inside the human mind that individual notes come together to form a meaningful whole, that a random collection of noise can be comprehended as a structured, even beautiful, totality. So the very existence of music is as ephemeral as that melody on the tip of your tongue that is lost somewhere in the deep recesses of your brain.

Before you get lost in the overtones let’s go to the Beginning. The Bible, interestingly enough, relegates the creation of music to human origin rather than divine handiwork. It does not appear during the first Six Days or even in the Garden of Eden, but it does factor as one of the very first human inventions, in the hands of Yuval, the eighth generation of Mankind, the “father of all who handle the harp and pipe.” Though an essential component of the human experience, music is really dependent on human creativity for its existence. But it also implies an existence larger than any single individual’s imagination: if a composer leaves this world, his music still exists somehow in the minds of all who hear his works. Thus the reality of music is contingent on a universal consciousness, and conversely the delicate fabric or our society is connected by what transcends yet unifies us.

There is something special about hearing a song with other people, or at least knowing that it has touched someone else. Why should we feel such a sense of connectedness? The secret is time. Bodies in this world are separated by space, but we all exist at the same moment. If time is what unites us, then it is the rhythm of music which can make us feel part of something greater, which explains why it possesses such a central role in rituals.

It is no accident that over the centuries we developed unique songs for the different Jewish holidays, distinct musical modes for different types of prayer, different melodies for every part of the liturgy. These serve to set us apart as Jews from the rest of the world and also to unify us as a distinct nation.

That is a broad introduction into some musings on music, and tune in to future issues for greater development of these ideas. One final thought: music is only defined by the memory we have of the previous instant coupled with the momentary anticipation for the next note, and we extrapolate that into a musical theme. The convergence of independent elements makes us realize that the whole is so much greater than the sum of its parts. But the only way to really understand music is to experience it!

And as the anthem pierces, 'I have no other land.' Who's singing these patriotic Hebrew lines? It's not a folk singer or synagogue choir, but in fact two Israeli rappers sporting tattoos, the latest American gangsta clothing and iced-out Star of David necklaces. Rap has finally made inroads into Israeli music, and might be the genre best suited to express the creative challenges of the ongoing 'matzav'. Until recently, rap was viewed as novelty in Israel; a popular ad for long distance service shows a group of African-Americans sitting around on a stoop in Harlem. Suddenly the phone rings - it's 'Dudi Ha Totach [the bomb]' who starts to rap in Hebrew, and despite the language barrier the group starts dancing to it.

Why would a music style associated with the 'hood' and African-American culture become so popular worldwide? One explanation is that elements of rap-humor, story telling, and virility have always been present in all cultures. Yet rap in the United States has never been very sympathetic to Jews, or, more specifically, to Jewish record executives. Such rappers as Ice Cube and Public Enemy have had lyrics insulting Jewish individuals. Other groups have mixed signals; the Wu Tang Clan of Staten Island has a Jewish rapper, Remedy, who raps about the Holocaust, even while on the road in Germany, while another of their rappers, Method Man, has a song entitled 'PLO Style'.

Yavne, an Israeli city, is not only known as the home of the Sanhedrin, but as the birthplace of Israeli rap. More specifically, Shabak Samech, party rappers heavily influenced by Beastie Boys who were active in the mid-90's. Soon other groups with a more complex message emerged. In particular, Subliminal [Kobi Shimoni] and the Shadow [Yoav Eliasi], quoted above, has emerged as a patriotic rap group. While many of their songs deal with the usual themes of women and street life, others deal with nationalism. In fact, many of the CD's refrains are taken from classical Israeli folk songs such 'Banu Hocesh L'Garesh' [We have come to expel the darkness] and 'HaHagiga Nigmeret' [The Holiday is Over]. And far from being subliminal, their messages are quite clear. The cover of their CD, 'The Light and the Shadow,' depicts a Jewish star necklace being snatched from the mud, and the duo says such things as 'the nation disappears like a cigarette in Arafat's mouth.'

Not only is Subliminal's lyrical style uncommon in Israel, but so are their right-wing political allegiances, views widely expressed on the street, but rarely heard on the national level of the arts. Conservative thinkers, such as Yoram Hazony, author 'The Jewish State,' have often questioned the criticism of Zionism that can be found in the work of many Israeli Artists, playwrights, and authors. He can rest assured that at least one of the top 10 of Tower Records meets his patriotic requirements. Two other successful rap groups, Mook E., formerly of Shabak, and the Dag Nahash, are more critical of the status quo.

Mook E.'s first CD, 'Shma Yisrael' was one of the most popular in Israel, and one of his songs, the reggae-influenced 'Everyone is talking about peace', was one of the top songs of 2002 according to Army Radio. In the refrain, he says 'everyone talks about peace, but no one talks about peace. For one it's heaven, the other is hell, how many fingers are on the trigger?' Mook's songs focus less on the details on the current conflict, and reflect more of a vague theme of brotherhood, For example he claims in one song 'all the have same dream', adding 'they have divided the world between us and them', and 'the earth is crying.' Somewhere between Mook E and Subliminal is Dag Nahash who have proclaimed themselves 'Zionist hip-hop.' The Jerusalem based group, which took its name from Nahag Hadash-Hebrew for 'new driver' and changed it to 'fish-snake', has many complex views. In 'Misparim' [Numbers] the rapper Shan'an Strit, says 'I too like all the Jews look at numbers…two is the states that will be between the Jordan and the Sea…three is the years I served in Army…nine times I was close to a pigua [terrorist attack]…and the number that gives us the most hope and reminds us of the tragedy, that makes everyone's heart salute - six million.

There may not be a bicoastal rivalry in Israel, but rappers still criticize each other's points of view, just as they do in the US. Subliminal blasts Dag Nahash, by saying 'Shalom Saalam Peace [a song of Dag from 2000] there is none in the world', and in regards to Mook E says 'despite the attacks, simple minded people still believe in the delusion of justice'. This caused an outcry from several media critics, one who even called Subliminal 'a bunch of fascists'. No doubt the same critics would be even harsher towards Dov Shurin, a musician and radio figure who appeared in this film 'The Settlers'. His last album was entitled 'Nekama' or 'Revenge,' and Shurin has performed songs at Kach events. Many of his songs are based on passages from the Bible such as Moses slaying an Egyptian, Samson tearing down the Temple of the Philistines, and his far-right writings can be found on the Country Yossi website. In my opinion, some of the harshest lyrics found in Jewish or Israeli music can be found in Mordechai Ben David's famous 'Jerusalem is not for sale'. It goes on to tell the Mormons building a university on Mt. Scopus 'you'd better run to your life back to Utah overnight, before the mountain opens up to swallow you inside'.

Arabic Rap has also become popular in the Israeli Arab community, with the Akko based group of MWR scoring a hit with the protest song 'Because I'm an Arab'. While Israel is often criticized in local Arabic rap, an audience of millions abroad are signing virulently anti-Israeli songs. In Egypt, a recent national hit was Shabaan Abd Rahim's 'Baqra Al Israil' [I hate Israel], which is a throwback to the Nasser-era when Egyptian music often consisted of national ballads with obvious political overtones. Indeed, it's hard to get more overt than to have lyrics such as 'I hate Israel, I hate Ariel Sharon…I love my leader Hosni Mubarak.' Even more worrying is that the Egyptian national censor chose to change the song's lyrics from 'I don't like' to 'hate'. These feelings extend to London where Noa, an Israeli singer performing at a Mediterranean Festival had her concert interrupted by protestors - despite the fact that she was singing John Lennon's 'Imagine' with Algerian Cheb Khaled!

In short, nothing in the Middle Eastern music world has stayed the same. Many established Israeli pop musicians, such as Sarit Hadad and Yehuda Poliker have songs that allude to violence and its victims. Knesiat HaSechel made a rock version of the famed Mizrahi song 'Tipat Mazal,' and Hadad even chose to sing 'Light a Candle', rather than 'Mr. DJ Superman' as Israel's entry in the 2002 Eurovision contest. In the past competitions, Israel has wavered between such patriotic song as Ofra Haza's 'Chai', and the apolitical [Eden's 'Happy Birthday']. The entertainment world continues to mix with local politics. One example of this is the political party Shas who sampled Ricky Martin's 'Copa La Vida' making it into a religious song singing of the glory of Shas. Several political parties make use of entertainers, from Shas' court singer Benny Elbaz, to Ariel Zilber [a member of the National Union], and Chaim Moshe [The National Religious Party].

These are some of the trends that show that Israel's change every day, politically, physically, socially, and culturally. As pages of history are added, it is certain that a musician in the Middle East will bring them to life.

The gig, jointly organized by JDub Records and Awake Zion, brought together Jewish and African American reggae performers: DanceHall DJ and performer Super Dane, Mattissyahoo of yeshiva Hadar Hatorah, veteran reggae performer King Django, and friends and guests galore.

The idea mushroomed from Monica Haim's research paper for the ethnomusicology course at NYU's Gallatin School and evolved into her documentary Awake Zion, a preview of which premiered at the event. The film featured Rastafarians discussing their Judaic roots, Jews enthralled by reggae, and a variety of highly entertaining related footage. A long-standing reggae fan and also a yeshiva alumnus, Monica has always been curious about the Hebraic lyrics, rhetoric and symbolism in the album covers and artwork within the reggae world. Beyond the purely academic effort of researching this theme, Monica got to meet many Jewish reggae musicians, among them David Gould of Ad-nai & I and King Django, who was present at the concert. "Before I knew it, I was immersed in this world of Jewish reggae and people started calling me and bringing all sorts of information to my attention," said Monica.

One of the stars of the scene, introduced to Monica by her friends, happened to be the legendary Night Nurse, also known as Amy Watchell (reggae DJ, discographer and columnist) who emceed the show. "Rastafari," she said at the outset, "is a combination of two Amharic words: Ras (head) and Tafari - just like Hebrew's Rosh and Tiferet."

"Crazy Baldheads" headed by Ira Heaps, founder of Jammyland (Manhattan's reggae haven in the East Village) riffed through the melodies, while the singers improvised to the music in the Dance Hall style, first each separately and then all together in the unity Jam.

Undoubtedly, Mattissyahoo was the sensation of the night. One doesn't often get to see a yeshiva bocher, propped with a beard, kippah and tzitzit knocking off one reggae pearl after another. An experienced twenty-three year old musician, he discovered Judaism a few years ago and is now immersed in studies at Hadar HaTorah, a Chabad yeshiva in Crown Heights. "He makes me cry," said Amy Watchell, "in the most positive empowering sense, of course. Moving through the Rastafari community for all these years, and noticing all of the Jewish symbolism, I felt like an Oreo cookie - two chocolate slices with a little vanilla in the middle. He was like the inverted version of that - mostly vanilla, but with a chocolate layer in between. He brought it all home for me."

Super Dane, too, hailed his colleague with much approval: "Cool, cool" said Dane. "He's something different…I live in Crown Heights, and there, Jews never talk to the Black people. They pretend like we are not there. It's disrespect. But he's different." Dane himself, an upcoming producer, DJ and performer with an extensive Brooklyn reggae tradition got his share of applause and accolades, and was thrilled by the event. "What can I say, it's beautiful," he related a few days later. "I told some of my friends and they couldn't believe a Jewish guy and Black guy were singing reggae-style side by side."

King Django, a ska-klezmer pioneer who could often be found at various gigs around the city, was thrilled too, though he joshed around a bit for not having enough time to perform. In his professionally-accented Jamaican lingo with unmistakable Ashkenazi Flatbush intonations, he bargained for the music to continue late into the night. Neither the audience nor organizers seemed to mind.

In contrast with the on-stage unity, the audience at the event was rather homogeneous. Encouragingly, Super Dane commented that it was purely the matter of rushed advertising efforts, and at the next session, undoubtedly, more of the Black audience will show up. Monica Haim, too, noted, that for her, it was just as important to bring the two diverse audiences together as it was bringing the artists, and future events will be even more integrated.

JDub Records, a new hip Jewish record label, co-produced the event. One of its founders, Ben Hesse, got up on the stage and impromptu harmonized with Mattissyahoo. Both Ben and Aaron Bisman (co-founder of JDub, and an accomplished DJ himself) directed much of the staging and production work. "JDub was proud to co-produce The Unity Sessions. We're interested in music's power to bring people together …Jews have lived within so many cultures - our music is often the music of the communities we live with and JDub is interested in fostering these diverse voices and expanding current definitions of Jewish music," - said Aaron.

In a similar vein, Elyakeem Kinstlinger, a young entrepreneur present in the audience, added: "It's incredible that Rastafarians have such a strong connection to Zion, such an interest and affinity for Jews. And it's empowering for us to feel the bond with such allies by our side."

The Tanach describes Queen Sheba's arrival to Jerusalem and her witnessing the beauty of Judea and the newly built temple of Solomon, as an experience which "left her breathless." She exclaimed: "Your wisdom and wealth surpass the reports that I heard . . . Praised be the Lord your G-d who delighted in you and set you on the throne of Israel. It is because of the Lord's everlasting love for Israel that He made you king to do justice and righteousness." (Melahim I 10:7-9). Such cultural bonding, and, some would note, kiddush Hashem, consequently established a connection between the two cultures which lasted hundreds of years. Perhaps, revival of this union could become the ambition of the Unity Sessions. For now, in the culminating moment of the concert, Mattissyahoo shouted out in the middle of the song: "Crown Heights!!" eliciting favorable grunting from the audience. "Both sides of Crown Heights, you know what I mean?" he shouted and the audience went completely insane.

Rap is only one of the many growing genres of music in Israel. If that nation is, to paraphrase Carl Sandberg, the felafel stand of the world, then it’s table of tosafot include fresh and spicy offerings from folk to fusion to techno. This month features the new flavors of Ethiopian immigrants and the hearty offerings of Mizrahi culture.

Every Zionist knows the story of Operation Moses, when 8,000 Ethiopian Jews were secretly airlifted to Israel via Sudan in 1984, followed by Operation Solomon, which assisted 14,000 others in 1991. Many Israelis are unacquainted with Ethiopian culture, and the challenges that many Ethiopian immigrants face adjusting to Israeli society. However, a new generation, raised in Israel, now reaching adulthood has begun to have more influence on popular Israeli culture.

The first national taste of Ethiopian-Israeli music was the Sheba Children’s Choir led by Shlomo Gronich, a rock star in his own right in the 1970’s. While the Sheba Choir remain beloved guests at any Jewish community center, they only sing in Hebrew and don’t write their own lyrics. Israeli rocker Ehud Banai wrote a song critical of the way Ethiopian immigrants were treated called ‘Black Work’, and had a backing group of African musicians called ‘The Refugees’. Ethiopian comedian Yossi Vassa, toured the United States, and appeared on Israeli Television, and the Black Hebrew sect had members in the pop group ‘Eden’, selected to represent Israel at Eurovision 2000, but Ethiopian music in Israel seemed confined to small, private community gatherings.

What proved to be the breakthrough for Ethiopian music was a CD compiled by a dreadlocked Ashkenazi named Idan Reichel. A pianist trained in many forms of western music, Reichel was turned on to Ethiopian music while teaching music at a boarding school for new immigrants. In an attempt to prove his producing skills, he recorded music from both old friends and Ethiopian artists he approached at cultural events. The album, called ‘the Idan Reichel Project’ satisfied the Israeli public-selling 25,000 copies in two months, and paid to respect to Ethiopian culture, with two of it’s singles, sung in both Hebrew and Amharic, at the top of local charts. It offered a range of traditional and popular Ethiopian music, from a love letter read in Amharic to prayers in Ge’ez, the traditional religious language, for Rosh Ha Shana, including Shecheyanu, and chants from Shir Ha Shirim, and Kohelet. I found the album to be unlike anything I had ever heard, and I hope that many of the twenty-nine other artists featured will get their own deals in the future.

Given the popularity of rap in the community, [I’ve seen seven-year children quote lines from Tupac Shakur and the Notorious B.I.G], it is only a matter of time before an Ethiopian-Israeli rapper emerges.

Mizrachi:

A sixteen-year-old American boy walks into a small shop off Ben-Yehuda Square in Jerusalem. Trying to appear knowledgeable to the staff smirking at his NCSY sweatshirt and outlandishly large kippah, he buys a Zehava Ben cassette. The teen vaguely remembered reading about her in Hadassah Magazine, and who can resist the charms of ‘Super Gold Hits Volume 2’, for fifteen sheqalim? Hungrily putting the cassette in his walkman, listening to the fourth track ‘Looking Forward’, the Ashkenazi kid from suburbia hears something entirely new. ‘If G-d wills, I will continue and not a little…G-d who has given me such a fine voice, the crowds who give me strength like this…the ‘rabble’ who gives me this power…’ sung over slow Turkish melodies. That boy was me; one radio demo, two concerts, three karaoke nights and 42 CD’s later, I have become addicted to Mizrahi music.

Trying to define what exactly Mizrahi music is something I will leave for a long bus ride and a talkative driver or neighbor. The best place to start is to explain who the Mizrahim are. The term ‘Mizrahi’ or Oriental is an unclear one, literally meaning from one from the East, which carries it’s own cultural connotations. Technically, it refers to Jews originally from North Africa, and the Middle Eastern nations of Syria, Lebanon, Yemen, Iran, Iraq, and Turkey. Technically, Mizrahim are not the same origin as Sephardim, who trace their ancestry to Spain, but practically, there are the two communities live together and have many cultural ties. Not all Mizrahi musicians play Mizrahi music, and not all musicians who play Mizrahi music are of Mizrahi origin. There are several genres of Mizrahi music in Israel. The first is traditional music from a native community, which today may be influenced by modern instruments and trends. There was the crossover stage, where Mizrahi singers tried to add touches of their tunes or music to a largely western instrumentation. Most common today is pop music that has synthesized the east and west, though lyrically faithful to previous themes. Finally there are world music fusion groups, which mix folk music from such nations as Ireland, India, and Iran.

The musical development is connected to the history and development of the Mizrahi community in Israel. Mizrahi Jews brought their own musical traditions to Israel, but found them dismissed as ‘primitive’ or were viewed with suspicion when they listened to Arabic radio from hostile nations. In the 1950’s Israeli music was completely influenced by the melodies of Europe, especially Russia. Yemenite singers such as Shoshanna Damari, Bracha Zefira, and Esther Gamlielit who sang folk songs were an exception to this rule. Many Mizrahi histories talk about how new immigrants would only listen to Arabic music in private, as it rarely had Hebrew lyrics, and often came from nations warring with Israel. Thirty years ago, the only source for Mizrahi music was at that Central Bus Station in Tel Aviv, where underground tapes were sold, or at private gatherings. It is not coincidental that cassettes arrived around the same time as the ‘Mahapach’, or revolution, when Mizrahim gained additional political power and improved their standard of living. Middle East historians know the important role cassette tapes played in the Iranian Revolution, just as devotees of Rav Amnon Yitzchak and other Rabbis pass out theirs today.

Today Mizrahi music is ubiquitous, heard on buses, restaurants, and the street, but despite the progress made in Israeli society today, certain dues need to be paid to become nationally famous. Take Sarah Hodedtov, or as is she better known, Sarit Hadad. Born to a Caucasian family in the development town of Or Akiva, she had to defy her father to sneak out of her house to sing publicly. Her first album, released in 1995 when she was 16, shows her wearing an oversized suit jacket and features emotional songs about fate and loss. Eight years later, she has adopted Tel Avivian chic, and one of her writers is Yair Lapid, newspaper columnist and son of MK Tommy, the head of the Shinui party. Other singers who changed their names include Eyal Golan [Biton], Kobi Oz [Uzan], and Rita [Yahan Farouz]. One singer who refused to change his identity, Zohar Argov z’l is often compared to Elvis Presley, for his untimely death, and ability to bring ethnic music to a national audience. Argov seemed an unlikely star; he did not have movie star looks, dropped out of school at thirteen to support his family, and pronounced his words the Yemenite way, saying ‘het’ instead ‘chet’. However he became a nation star; his music is beloved; and years after his tragic suicide in 1987, he still is the model for other artists to emulate. A rehabilitation center, Kfar Zoharim, is named for him, and a movie and play based on his life were made. If you are fluent in Hebrew, check out www.speedy.co.il/zohar, which has a detailed biography of Argov, and wonderful version of one of his tunes on the introductory page.

Klezmer has the epithet of the ‘Jewish blues’, and Mizrahi music has been called ‘Jewish Country.’ Is this an accurate comparison? To quote Dalia Cohen, a musicologist at Hebrew University ‘its lyrics…stress themes that Ashkenazi-elite lyricists avoid - personal pathos, patriotism, and snippets (or entire passages) of the traditional Jewish liturgy.’ There certainly is pathos in many Mizrahi songs, and the comedic troupe Ha’Gashash Ha’Chiver, is famed for their mock ‘Festival of Despair’, where they parodied popular songs, which were rated on how they depressed the audience. Yet the blues by definition have pathos, and Arabic music has always dealt with the intricacies of emotions, not only lyrically but also instrumentally. Country music is known for being slow-paced and methodical, with a heavy emphasis on the guitar and synthesis, and Mizrahi music generally has a fast-paced beat, making use of instruments such as the bozouki and darbouka. Mizrahi music also has elements of traditional Arabic music such as embellishments that stretch out words in a style almost akin to cantillation. A glance at Mizrahi singers, with their slicked hair and black shirts, makes them seem more Latin than country. However, both genres are either loved or hated. Israeli critics claim that Mizrahi CD’s are produced too quickly, and that much of their beats are similar musically, as most are Hebrew tunes with backing from Greek, Turkish, or Spanish music. To complicate matters, many singers re-sing other’s most famous hits. Often the singer even has editions with the same songs in Hebrew and Arabic.

While the critics and the occasional entertainment figure turn up their noses, Mizrahi music looks to the shechunah (‘hood). On television shows such as ‘The Smell of Mint’ and ‘Briza’, singers are seen singing in development towns before crowds of happy families. One such development town is Sderot, a small town near the Gaza Strip, famed for spawning several bands, most famous being the Teapacks. Their leader, Kobi Oz is not only the author of two books, but has been called on the best lyricists in any language. I strongly recommend listening to the Teapacks, as they are upbeat, musically gifted, and have a wry sense of humor. I went to their one American concert, and it was. Many Mizrahi singers are popular in Arab nations, Hadad released an album in Jordan, and Ben did a cover of the famous Um Kaltum. Even Israeli Arabs are trying to make inroads into Mizrahi music; I stumbled across the CD of Asalla, a Druze female singer on-line, and saw a Bedouin singer advertised in the Be’er Sheva shuk. What role does religion play in all this? Most Mizrahi CD’s have the bs’d on the front, and many songs allude to religion. Singers are happy to sing both traditional religious songs and modern pop ones. There also are Mizrahi singers who now only sing of religion, such as melancholy singer Ofer Levi, who once appeared on albums in a baseball hat, but now has grown a beard and huge kippah.

Perhaps the easiest way to sample this music is to visit www.israel-music.com, which allows you to listen to a medley of every track of most CD’s. If you’re in New York City, you can visit Israeli-American stores such as Sifrutake and Mifgash Yediot Hachronot, the local pizzeria, and the Tower World Music center near NYU. If in Israel, check out a shuk where illegal discs are common. So that you will go in knowing what to look for, in the next monthly issue of Mima'amakim I'm going to provide you with a list of Mizrahi Music from A to Z.

Information in this article came from the Jerusalem Report, The Rough Guide to World Music, and residents of Shchuna Daled in Be’er Sheva, and Rishon L’Zion.

Amidst the wave of New Jewish Music with which we've been blessed in the last decade, few have paralleled the vision and innovation of New York's Tzadik Records. Founder and legendary saxophonist John Zorn (of Masada fame) is decidedly unorthodox, which makes his being the most prolific Jewish music producer around even more astounding. The label's Radical Jewish Culture imprint annually releases about a dozen of the finest and most artistically adventurous albums in the Jewish genre.

Since we're upon Purim, it's only appropriate to examine the quirkiest, most enjoyable among them: The Rabbinical School Dropouts' Cosmic Tree. It's their third album and easily their best yet, combining elements of traditional klezmer with enough creativity and musical humor to make it a truly special outing. In this tight, all-instrumental effort, one hears the influences of Frank Zappa, Sun Ra and Spike Jones layered over Eastern European, Balkan and Middle-Eastern style melodies.

The irreverent 10-piece San Diego based ensemble found its way to Jewish music accidentally. Young brothers Michael, Hank and Jon-Jon Friedmann began the band as The Amazing Colossal Band at UCSD, and their compositions, which from the outset have been quite intricate, tended toward the modes upon which middle-eastern and southeast European music are based. Soon playful Jewish song titles emerged and before long, the ensemble adopted one as their band name.

The swinging exoticism of the Cosmic Tree's opening track, "Dung Gate," is a dance-friendly bit of swing with a pleasant mandolin and clarinet juxtaposition, while "Sweet Beat" has more jump than Turkish coffee in the morning. Only the track "Integration" suffers from I.B.E.S. (Inordinate Bellybutton Examination and Speculation), but the other 11 tunes on Cosmic Tree are solid musical fare. Before you slip the CD into your stereo, beware of Michael Friedmann's reed prowess and forewarned of a cacophony of bassoon, tablas, upright bass, theremin, bass clarinet, oboe, trombone, saxophone, electric guitar, drums, and other toys thrown in just for fun.

The album's title track sets down a searing rock-driven freylach melody line, providing a framework for a trio of solos. It's otherworldly, but perhaps this track is really a musical journey down the center column of the Kaballastic Sefirot, to which the title alludes. The guitar, clarinet and theremin represent the Yesod, Shekhina and Keter respectively, while the unity line represents the Tiferet, unifying them all. Perhaps that's I.B.E.S. to most, who will hear its visceral power and know it has nothing to do with Madonna's latest fancy.

To contrast, the contemplative "Warp to Level Three," introduces an enchanting melody on a toy piano over a bass, hand percussion and tablas as if set in some Tunisian desert oasis. When the ethereal oboe strain kicks in, you recognize you're in the dimension most recently occupied by the late Sun Ra and his Arkestra in its heyday. RSDO acknowledges the influence on their music, which is most often referred to as "esoteric space klezmer." More evidence of the connection is found on "Jebusite Hypothesis," on which the bassoon line haltingly meanders through a musical dessert like the Children of Israel before descending into a promised land of minor bop. Replete with a full horn section featuring fine sax and trombone solos that should make Zorn himself proud, while Semitic Slam and Mesquito from Meggido would have easily fit on any of the recent Ra compilations.

Before things get too odd, RSDO jumps into "Solarium Khosdil," crossing a particular Klezmer form and mild funk with a gorgeous piano solo. It is the album's most elegant, with a fine blend of groove, improvisation and arrangement that is the Dropouts' true hallmark.

Lest any of the musical references or academic discussion turn you off, Cosmic Tree is easily accessible, easy to find and most important, great fun. The overall sound is a bit like that whacked out Cantina band in the first Star Wars movie and they're about as catchy. This is klezmer hijacked by the Animaniacs; intelligent, humorous and done to the extreme. You'll be hard pressed not to get up and dance.

That was the point of Klezmer in the first place; dance music for parties. Which brings us back to Purim, the mother of all Jewish parties. The Rabbinical School Dropouts will be performing in Chicago for 2 special Purim concerts, listed below. So you can go buy the album, go see them live or both. Do yourself and favor and do the latter; the Dropouts' music will kick the yeshiva out of your regular Purim party, and there's no finer music for shaking your… grogger.

Saturday, March 6th 8pm 7pm doors, Lakeside Congregation, 1221 County Line Rd. Highland Park & Sunday, March 7th 8pm 7pm doors, HotHouse, 31 E. Balbo in Chicago's South Loop. Tickets for both shows are $12 in advance, $15 at the door. For tickets and music samples visit www.kfarcenter.com or call 773.550.1543.

Adam R. Davis lives in Chicago where he is the Director of the KFAR Jewish Arts Center, a leading presenter of New Jewish Music. Send your thoughts, comments and questions to jewishfringe@kfarcenter.com.

Also please be sure to visit www.kfarcenter.com.

© Copyright 2004 Adam R. Davis

Daniel Silverstein is a communal educator and MC in Emunah, a Jewish hiphop/drumandbass group based in London (www.emunahmusic.com)

As a Jewish MC, the question I get asked most often is “isn’t that something black people do?” Now, this is indeed a fair question in some respects: hiphop music was originated by blacks, made popular by blacks, and the majority of both artists and fans to this day come from the black community. However, in these days of rapid cultural hybridisation and continuous crosspollination of identities and cultural forms, nothing is simply “black”, “white” any more than something could be simply “Gentile” or “Jewish”.

So how to chart the intertwining of Jewish culture and hiphop? Firstly, the art form of rapping and the culture of hiphop must understood in a historical context. The proto-rappers of the 1970s, such as Gil Scott-Heron, who pioneered the use of the spoken word as an instrument of beauty and rebellion were part of a long tradition stretching back through veins as apparently disconnected as gospel preaching, beat poetry and the socialist folk music scene epitomised by Woody Guthrie.

A decade before Scott-Heron and his colleagues were laying the foundations for modern hiphop culture, a young Jewish singer from Hibbing, Minnesota, was defying convention by fusing previously disparate verbal and musical forms with a confidence and ambition that were to make him the voice of a generation. Dylan demonstrated that it was possible to create one’s own, very powerful, language from a playful bricolage of the remnants of the past, from sources as diverse as medieval ballads, newspaper articles, modernist poetry and the bible. However, it would be wrong to suggest that many of the early rappers were directly influenced by him; nonetheless he illustrated how far it was possible to stretch oneself as an artist, and the listeners, both as individuals and as a community. This was a lesson that permeated not only the counter-culture of the 1960s but, through the kaleidoscope of the mass media, permanently altered the music industry.

The revolutionary beginnings of black rap were a continuation of a black tradition that used music to awaken the hearts and minds of those who listened to religious as well as political concerns. This tradition was rooted in the spiritual songs of the slaves and in the call-and-response sermons of black churches and so it is not surprising that it is littered with language, rhythm and tone that is unmistakably biblical. Many rappers utilise the paradigm of the prophetic preacher to impress the importance of their words upon the audience. Indeed, one of seminal hiphop tracks of the 1980s, which brought the sound of the South Bronx into a far wider arena than it had inhabited previously, is Melle Mel’s classic, ‘The Message’ – the title says it all.

Of course, hiphop culture has not always been exclusively a noble embodiment of the fight for social justice and enlightenment; it has also been dogged by the social and psychological problems facing black and other urban communities, and amongst the many victims has been the quality of the music itself. Those who have blazed a path in keeping hiphop faithful to its original revolutionary ethos have been fighting against a sometimes overwhelming tide of songs designed to appeal to a wide commercial audience by glorifying violence, deprecating women and esteeming financial wealth above all other goals. Yet the revolutionaries have not only maintained the use of the artform as an instrument of political education, they have also been at the forefront of the evolution of language itself, which can be clearly seen on a somewhat crude level by the prominence of certain sayings from hiphop in everyday English, both in the USA and here in the UK.

The true pioneers of hiphop have also been at the forefront of the evolution of music, not only the intertwining of music and the spoken word (which goes without saying), but of music itself. Albums such as the DJ Shadow’s seminal Entroducing (1996), which contains little vocal content, illustrate that even instrumental hiphop, at its best, can blur musical boundaries to astounding effect.

So, to return to the original question – why do young Jews, many of them observant or at least knowledgeable, find themselves attracted to this artform? Well, firstly it is important to state the obvious fact that wherever our situation permitted it, Jews have been well represented amongst creative innovators, from authors and painters through to philosophers and film directors. Secondly, part of the contribution made by Jews to the creative arts has stemmed from our position as outsiders in society which assists us in criticising and redefining that which already exists, with Dylan being the example par excellence of this.

Being Jewish is not a static affair. To live one’s Jewish life to the full, we must relate to the world around us through the lens of our heritage, and vice versa, with each of us deciding for ourselves where we find and bequeath authority and value. For me, and many others of my generation, to be a Jew today means to contribute something at once creative and critical to the multiplicity of voices that make up our world. To point out the shortcomings of what is, and to point to a better future. This has ever been the mission of the Jews in the world, and for three decades this has been the mission of conscious hiphop. To pioneer a new vocabulary and phraseology that helps people think more constructively about the world we live in than through the mind-forged manacles of the fast-food categories we are force-fed. Hiphop is at the cutting edge of this conscious remoulding of language, and together with music the words awaken the soul to its full potential.