| Jewish Community News
News: October 2006
Matisyahu: from white suburban teenager to Chassidic
reggae star

By Laura Rheinheimer and
Tomer Altman
Matthew Miller, a self-described “white suburban teenager,”
grew up in White Plains, New York, to Reconstructionist Jewish parents.
He describes his teenage years as being filled with drugs and treif, (non-kosher
food) and listening to hip-hop and reggae.
Today, Matthew Miller is Matisyahu Miller, an observant
Chassidic Jew and top-selling artist on the Sony-BMG label. He performs
across the country to Jews and non-Jews alike. His most popular song,
“King Without a Crown,” made it to number seven in the Billboard
charts.
In early September, the artist walked onto stage at the San Jose Civic
Auditorium in a black coat and fedora, singing to more than 2,000 fans
of all ages and backgrounds. Some teenagers showed up just to hear good
music and have a turn in the mosh pit. Others felt more connected to Matisyahu’s
connection with G-d.
Elisa Becerra, who was raised Christian, says Matisyahu’s music
moved her to seek a deeper connection with G-d, through Orthodoxy. “You
feel like the music is speaking directly to you,” Becerra says.
“He just has a way of making people feel good.”
Devorah Witt, an Orthodox Jew visiting from Jerusalem, says Matisyahu’s
music goes beyond good tunes and inspiration. “I think his music
is actively bringing Moshiach,” she says.
Eli Altschuler, a Modern Orthodox Jew from Los Angeles, disagrees. The
music is sincere, Altschuler says, but it doesn’t further his own
religious convictions.
“He has given the Lubavitch a lot of strength,” adds Avi Blumenstein.
“As a person, he’s very inspirational to people worldwide.”
In the Bay Area, however, Matisyahu may be strengthening the religiosity
of young Jews. The mere presence of the reggae superstar, whose songs
fill teenagers’ MySpace pages and mainstream radio stations, has
inspired impressionable youths to show their Jewish pride.
David Linder, a 16-year-old from Saratoga, dons a kippah “for respect”
and proudly announces that he skateboards to Matisyahu’s music on
his iPod.
“He’s like a role model to me,” Linder says. “You
never see a Jewish guy getting up there and doing reggae.”
Linder and a group of friends buy Matisyahu T-shirts to wear at the show,
and argue over who gets the title of “biggest fan.” Thirty
young adults attended the show together with the Silicon Valley Young
Adults Division, a group of the Jewish Federation of Silicon Valley.
Matisyhau’s San Jose performace included his hit “King
Without a Crown” and “Jerusalem.” Many of the words
are difficult to understand because of the reggae style of singing, but
some of the messages come across loud and clear.
Matisyahu performs “Youth,” a song without strong religious
undertones that calls for young men to “make their demands.”
Longtime friend and fellow Yeshiva student, Zalman Shimon Wircberg, who
is accompanying the Millers on tour, jumps onstage and does Chasidic-style
dancing with Matisyahu. The crowd demands two encore songs, and the concert
ends well past midnight.
Shabbos
In the days preceding the show, Matisyahu spends Shabbos as any other
devout Orthodox Jew, quietly finishing his prayers at the house of Berkeley
Chabad Rabbi Yehuda Ferris, while dozens of loud Jewish fraternity members
drink wine. During the meal, Matisyahu receives praise after praise about
his music, and he accepts each compliment with a “thank you.”
It’s hard to imagine this quiet, humble Chasid getting onstage and
singing his heart out to thousands of fans.
On tour with Matisyahu is his wife Tahlia, who is due with their second
child in November, and son Laivy Yitzhak, 1. The family travels with him
when they can, and Tahlia has her own thing going on—she teaches
a class on intimacy to young Jews. The Miller family travels from Chabad
house to Chabad house while on tour, taking every effort to be observant.
“It’s not hard; you just have to know what to look out for,”
Matisyahu says.
“When you have your mind made up to do something, you can do it,”
he says.
But Matisyahu wasn’t always so directed. For much of his teenage
years, he pursued music under the alias “MC Truth” with the
group MC Mystic’s Soulfari Band in the New York area. After years
of listening to reggae, indulging in marijuana and following the band
Phish, he was left feeling soulless and wanted to get out of a life that
was “limiting.”
“I started thinking about the world in a different perspective,”
Matisyahu says, and he started a gradual process of becoming more religious,
which stemmed from a “yearning to go back and communicate with HaShem.”
It was a hard decision for Matisyahu, but he credits the friendly and
funny Chabad emissaries for making the transition to being an observant
Jew easier. His family took it hard, he says, and they thought it was
just another youthful indiscretion.
“My mom was going through a mental breakdown—‘he used
to be into drugs, now he’s religious. I don’t know which is
worse,’” Matisyahu recalls.
Matisyahu took Halacha (Jewish law) head-on in 2001, and left music behind
for a while.
“I made a break from everything in my past,” he says. He thought
music would play a role in his life like any other Orthodox Jew, through
traditional Jewish music.
“I soon stopped lying to myself and realized that Jewish music sucks
basically,” Matisyahu says. “And if I wanted to hear Jewish
music, I was going to have to create my own.”
He says his music is based on genres he knew from the past—hip-hop
and reggae—but with some of the Jewish ideas and concepts, and found
inspiration in Chasidic songs and Sephardic melodies. He says he heard
hip-hop beats behind the traditional niggunim (melodies).
Some of the same phrases cross over from reggae. Lyrics such as “fire
descends from on high in the shape of a lion/ burn the sacrifice of pride
and ride on to Mount Zion” can easily be compared to Bob Marley’s
words.
Perhaps it is the timeless themes, or the novelty of a man in a black
coat, tzittzit (fringes) and a fedorah twirling onstage, but whatever
the reason, Matisyahu quickly went from performing in coffee shops in
New York to selling out shows in world capitals.
Two years ago, as he was building a following and grabbing some media
attention, he met Tahlia, a New York University student who contacted
him to do a video. He kept bumping into her around town, and was intrigued.
He recalls skating to mincha together, and was impressed by her spunk
dodging in and out of traffic.
“I never saw a girl rollerblade like that,” Matisyahu says.
“After two or three dates, I said, ‘This’ll work.’”
While his popularity grows, and he continues to inspire and touch fans
from all walks of life, Matisyahu says even though the crowd he attracts
isn’t your typical shul-going bunch, his music is an outlet for
his own expression; making tunes is something he felt he needed to do.
“I like being out there and saying, ‘This is who I am,’”
Matisyahu says.
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