Some stretches in the Jewish calendar are filled with widely observed holidays. The summer months of Tammuz and Av might not be as popular as, say, Tishrei. But the holidays and occasions in Tammuz and Av still warrant a Jewish punk playlist!

Today is the first day of Tammuz, which means Gimel Tammuz is tomorrow night. Here is a playlist to prepare you for Gimel Tammuz, the 17th of Tammuz, Tisha B’Av, and Tu B’Av.

While all four are not typically discussed together, there are connections. They all use the date as a name. The first two descriptions below focus on deceased rabbis who maintain myriad Orthodox followers. The 17th of Tammuz and Tisha B’Av bookend the Three Weeks, a period of mourning for historic tragedies. Tu B’Av is sometimes seen in contrast to Tisha B’Av, given that the two have different focuses and moods and occur six days apart.

Gimel Tammuz

The 3rd of Tammuz is the yahrzeit (death anniversary) of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson. To celebrate the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Chabad encourages learning, prayer, and charity. It is common to have a farbrengen, a joyous gathering that includes alcohol.

The Groggers’ “Farbrengiton” combines farbrengen and “Bring it on!” It’s a fun pop-punk song about drinking and partying—at a Gimel Tammuz farbrengen. “Break out the bottles ’cause it’s the Rebbe’s yahrzeit,” sings Groggers front man L.E. Doug Staiman. He explained, “[Farbrengen] is so innocuous and it is part of Chabad tradition, but at the same time, you just go and you get shit-faced.”

17th of Tammuz

This fast day commences the Three Weeks mourning period, which ends with Tisha B’Av. In 1922, Rabbi Yisroel Dov Ber Odesser felt weak and broke his 17th of Tammuz fast. Days later, he found a note (petek) acknowledging that he had done so. Rabbi Odesser understood that the petek was sent by Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, more than a century after his death, and followers of Rebbe Nachman believe this as well.

In “The Petek,” Moshiach Oi! recite the petek verbatim in Hebrew and English. The lyrics conclude with “The sign will be that the Seventeenth of Tammuz/They will say that you were not fasting.” Moshiach Oi! singer Yishai Romanoff explained this part was a “sign to [Rabbi Odesser] that this was indeed a miracle, as nobody else knew that he had broken his fast.”

Tisha B’Av

Tisha B’Av concludes the Three Weeks with another fast day. It’s the saddest day of the Jewish calendar, commemorating the destruction of the First and Second Temples and other tragedies. The Book of Lamentations (Eikhah) is chanted in synagogue.

While walking home from Tisha B’Av services in the band’s early days, Shondes singer Louisa Solomon and drummer Temim Fruchter were singing Eikhah. Solomon explained that they were inspired to “take this melody from Eikhah—it’s so beautiful and all about loss and destruction and mourning.” She recalled thinking, “We have to take the Jewish liturgy about destruction and loss… and apply it to this great irony and horror that’s being done in our name.” The Shondes used the melody and message of Tisha B’Av for “I Watched the Temple Fall,” a controversial song about Israel/Palestine that says, “No heart could really beat love for this state.”

Tu B’Av

Traditionally, Tu B’Av was a time for women wearing white to dance in vineyards and attract suitors. In modern times, it’s a Jewish love holiday. For the last couple years, Jewcy has put a new spin on Tu B’Av with “Love Bites” parties!

Yidcore masterfully modernized an old bastion of romance with Fiddlin on Ya Roof, their punk rock rendition of Fiddler on the Roof. “Matchmaker (An Ode to Natalie Portman)” captures a longing for love like never before. Romance abounds when Tevye screams “Do you love me?” to his wife, Golda. Matters of the heart reach their zenith with Motel in “Miracle of Miracles.”

For more information about these Jewish punk bands, read Oy Oy Oy Gevalt! Jews and Punk by Michael Croland.

Album covers courtesy their respective artists.

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Punk chefs advise that if you want to ground up matzoh to make matzoh ball soup, you can have the punk rock band in your living room do it for you.

If you don’t have a punk rock band in your living room, this playlist should rev you up for all eight days of Passover. If it still isn’t enough (dayenu?), check out last year’s Passover punk playlist.

Yidcore: Bashana Haba’ah

A key theme of Passover is that while we might face problems now, things will be better next year. The chorus of this traditional song says, “You will yet see how good it will be next year.” In Yidcore’s cover, this rallying cry is more of a scream the last time it’s uttered.

The Shondes: True North

The chorus of “True North” connects the seder-ending slogan “Next year in Jerusalem” with social justice activism. Shondes singer Louisa Solomon said the song is about “utopian ideals” in “revolutionary movements—and the related Jewish tradition of actively imagining a better world.” The band included “Next year in Jerusalem” to “connect with our ancestors’ aspirations toward justice,” Solomon explained.

Gefilte Fuck: Why Don’t We Do It in the Shoul?

The song is modeled after the Beatles’ “Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?” and starts off by suggesting sex in a synagogue. There are four questions in total, and two of them are from the Four Questions: “Why do we eat unleavened bread?” “Why do we dip our parsley twice?” Click here to listen.

Schmekel: The Mohel Song

“The Mohel Song” addresses whether a transgender Jew should get circumcised. Toward the end of the song, singer/guitarist Lucian Kahn sings the chorus of “Chad Gadya.” Kahn associated “Chad Gadya” with his family’s inebriated renditions following four cups of wine at Passover seders. He saw in “Chad Gadya” the “drunken revelry of the liberation moment of the seder.” As Kahn put it, incorporating the song fit into Schmekel’s approach of taking liturgical melodies and other familiar elements of Judaism, “commenting on it,” “re-contextualizing it,” and “making it [their] own.”

G-d Is My Co-Pilot: Dayenu

G-d Is My Co-Pilot was part of No Wave, an avant-garde offshoot of punk rock. The band originally spelled out the first word of their name, but when they played overtly Jewish songs, they used a hyphen instead. Their 1994 album Mir Shlufn Nisht (Yiddish for “We Don’t Sleep”) included “Dayenu,” plus a hora, a Chanukah song, and “Hatikvah.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nphRFZg4zQE

Total Passover: Get Kosher

Total Passover qualifies for this playlist because of their awesome name. Their slogan, “Shalom Motherfucker,” wasn’t well received in their home state of Iowa in the early ’90s. In “Get Kosher,” the Jewish narrator tells a non-Jewish woman that he’ll only date her if she keeps kosher. The chorus includes the hilarious line “Lips that touch swine will never touch mine.”

Moshiach Oi!: Eliyahu HaNavi

This Hebrew song calls for Elijah the prophet to come to us soon with Moshiach. Moshiach Oi! have plenty of punk rock in their rendition, but there are also heaping servings of reggae. In addition, Moshiach Oi! discuss the Exodus from Egypt in songs “Yetzias Mitzrayim” and “This Is My God.”

Gangsta Rabbi: 1st Diaspora Egypt

“1st Diaspora Egypt” appeared on Steve “Gangsta Rabbi” Lieberman’s 69th album last year, and now he’s released three more since. The lyrics discuss how Joseph wound up in Egypt, Pharaoh’s order to build pyramids, the splitting of the sea, and wandering in the desert for 40 years en route to Israel.

…You might need to read the lyrics to get all that.

For more information about all these artists, check out Michael Croland’s book, Oy Oy Oy Gevalt! Jews and Punk.

Art courtesy of Tom Meehan/Total Passover

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Unlike some Jewish holidays (we’re looking at you, Tisha B’Av!), Purim is meant to be fun and celebratory. People dress up in costumes and wave around groggers (noisemakers). The Talmud encourages Jews to drink so much that they can’t tell the difference between Haman and Mordechai.

Here’s a Purim punk playlist for making a racket and drinking too much. If you truly embrace the spirit of Purim, you’ll break your leg while partying, hook up with Haman, and be too hung over to go to morning minyan.

Schmekel: Homotaschen

“Homotaschen” does more than recount a wild Purim escapade involving sex with Haman. It takes the model of typical Purim celebration—drinking to the point of confusion—and applies that spirit to the lyrics. Lucian Kahn, singer/guitarist of the transgender Jewish punk band Schmekel, explained:

All throughout the song, there are things that are slightly wrong or upside-down or on their head. … It says that they’re at the court of King Antiochus, who’s actually the king in the Hanukkah story. There’s just a confused conglomeration of views on Israel/Palestine, where everyone’s confused, and then the narrator decides to just go sleep with the biggest enemy imaginable. Like, “We’re going to avoid this moral debate and, just, like, go have sex with Haman!” Haman turns out to be also pretty gender-ambiguous, where you get “he” and “she” pronouns for Haman at different points in the song. … During the song, you’re supposed to be really confused about what everyone’s identity is and what’s happening and why.

The Groggers: Not Going to Shacharis

While the Groggers don’t have any songs about Purim, they are included here because they took their name from the Purim noisemakers. “We’re making noise. We’re loud and obnoxious,” explained front man L.E. Doug Staiman. The Jewish pop-punk band has made many hilarious videos, including this catchy ditty about refusing to go to shacharis (the morning prayer service). Parents, a doctor, a rabbi, a priest, and a yeshiva cheerleader all fail to get Staiman out of bed. Despite his efforts to the contrary, Staiman winds up being the 10th man for minyan. Maybe this song will inspire you to stay in bed and skip the morning megillah reading.

Yidcore: Shalosh Pinot

Yidcore had songs for most holidays, and that includes Purim—just barely. Lasting about 6 seconds, “Shalosh Pinot” is Yidcore’s shortest song. Why beat around the bush? At breakneck speed, it might be hard to decipher the Hebrew lyrics about Haman’s three-corner hat. They declare that the hat has three corners, three corners the hat has, and if it didn’t it wouldn’t be Haman’s hat. It’s a fun song for kids to sing, albeit not a profound one.

Aaron Alexander: Kleyzmish Moshpit

Hasidic New Wave drummer Aaron Alexander kicked off his solo album, Midrash Mish Mosh, with “Kleyzmish Moshpit.” Alexander had backgrounds in both punk rock and the Jewish music world and said he “wanted to reflect” their commonalities. Having seen “people in a mosh pit” at a punk show and “guys break their legs dancing on Purim at the Chabad house,” he thought the “intense dancing” and energy were “similar.” Play it loud!

For more information about these artists and other Jewish punk bands, check out Michael Croland’s book, Oy Oy Oy Gevalt Jews and Punk.

Photo courtesy of Chabad of Cambridge.

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This Sunday marks the 40-year anniversary of the Sex Pistols’ last concert at Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco. As the show progressed, it became clear that the iconic punk band had no future.

According to Jon Savage in his landmark book, England’s Dreaming, when the Pistols played “Belsen Was a Gas,” it was an “awful” moment marking the show’s downturn. The tactless song about the Belsen concentration camp, written by bassist Sid Vicious, talked about Jews’ graves and “fun” in consecutive lines. Savage wrote, “On the very last word, the group cuts dead, so that the audience, stunned, fails for a few seconds to cheer. The rushing silence is like a black hole: within it, the group implodes. After ‘Belsen,’ there was no way back.”

Vicious’s Holocaust song was hardly a unique expression for him. He frequently wore clothes with swastikas. In the Pistols movie The Great Rock ’n’ Roll Swindle, Vicious walked around a Jewish neighborhood in Paris in a swastika shirt, yielding tears from elderly women on the streets during filming.

Punk’s arch-villain was more provocative, insensitive, and immature than Jew-hating, but he was still genuinely offensive. The situation is more complicated than meets the eye. Vicious’s fraught relationship with Jews featured a handful of them in key roles. Here are four Jews who figured prominently in Vicious’s life—and two examples of how Jews have put their own spin on his name and legacy. Nearly four decades since Vicious’s death in 1979, Jews are having the last laugh.

Key Jews in Vicious’s Life

Malcolm McLaren

Pistols manager Malcolm McLaren steered the band toward chaos and controversy. McLaren brought punk from the U.S. to the U.K., promoted it to a large audience, and pioneered punk style (in part through SEX, a clothing store he ran with fashion legend Vivienne Westwood). According to the book El Sid, McLaren “programmed” Vicious. McLaren and Westwood gave him a “steady diet of poisonous ideas,” including “books on Charles Manson, Nazi paraphernalia, [and] murderous hatred toward the establishment.”

Nancy Spungen

In addition to being a drugged-out disaster, Sid and Nancy were punk’s “it” couple. Nancy Spungen grew up in a Jewish family in the Philadelphia suburbs. When Spungen took Vicious home to meet her parents, she requested bagels and lox and he refused to eat lox. Vicious was not the “nice Jewish dentist” that Spungen’s mother had wanted for her. Vicious allegedly murdered Spungen, but he died from a drug overdose before he could stand trial.

Keith Levene

Guitarist Keith Levene played with Vicious in the Flowers of Romance (the pre-Pistols band that Vicious wrote “Belsen Was a Gas” for) and was also in an early version of The Clash. Vicious and Levene infamously got heroin together in April 1977, leaving Vicious hospitalized for over a month with hepatitis B. He missed signing the Pistols’ record deal on time and recording most of their album.

Mick Jones

Mick Jones is the Jewish guitarist who did remain in The Clash long-term. Jones played guitar for a Vicious solo show in New York after the Pistols disbanded. The Clash played a benefit show for Vicious’s legal defense in the wake of Spungen’s murder, for which Vicious’s mother called Jones a dependable friend.

Putting a Jewish Spin on It

Yid Vicious

The Wisconsin klezmer band Yid Vicious included the songs “Never Mind the Cossacks” and “Anarchy in the Ukraine” on their 1998 album. The playful song titles spoofed the Sex Pistols’ Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols and “Anarchy in the U.K.” In the liner notes, Yid Vicious explained that while some people assume they “play some sort of punk klezmer hybrid,” their “take on klezmer is a fairly traditional one.”

Sid Yiddish

Sid Yiddish leads the band Candy Store Henchmen and has been on America’s Got Talent. As an actor, he has appeared in Shameless, a Burt’s Bees commercial, and the video for Ludacris’s “Jingalin,’” frequently portraying a rabbi. He ran for president in 2016, vowing to “buy everyone a brand new pair of shoes and hand out kosher bubble gum, accompanied with good comics.” He was aware of Yid Vicious and thought Sid Yiddish would be “an even funnier play on Sid Vicious’s name.” He said that Sid Vicious “was a punk in every way possible,” and Sid Yiddish was “punk in my own vein, but a funnier sort of way.”

For more information about Sid Vicious, Malcolm McLaren, the Sex Pistols, and punk from a Jewish perspective, check out Michael Croland’s book, Oy Oy Oy Gevalt! Jews and Punk.

Image via Wikimedia

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Believe it or not, it’s become a tradition for Jews around the world to celebrate the High Holidays with punk rock.

In 2008, for example, in Tel Aviv, the band Friday Night Sissy Fight promoted a “Rosh Hashana Mayhem” show and encouraged people to “Celebrate the Hebrew New Year with Some Punk.” That same year in Australia, Yidcore played a “Happy Jew Year” show they said would “be sweeter than apple dipped in honey!” Yidcore added, “Well it’s Jew Year next week so we thought we’d give y’all one last chance to rack up a bunch of sins before you wipe your slates clean!” And last year, Jewcy shared Schmekel songs for four Tishrei holidays: Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, and Simchat Torah.

From “Mosh Hashanah” to Yom Kippur intensity, here’s a Jewish punk playlist for the High Holidays, with a Christmas tune thrown in for good measure.

Free Radicals: Mosh Hashanah

As a lover of punk and puns, I give this song title an A+. Houston-based Free Radicals are known for their fusion of jazz, funk, ska, reggae, Afrobeat, and more, and “Mosh Hashanah” combines klezmer and punk rock. “Free Radicals doesn’t play klezmer exclusively, but when we do, it often tends to be our heaviest music,” the band said in a statement. “Maybe this is because our band members have several Jewish ancestors [and] because when we play one-two beats we get confused as to whether we are doing polka, klezmer, or punk rock ….”

Me First and the Gimme Gimmes: Hava Nagila (Christmas Arrangement)

When Me First and the Gimme Gimmes recorded a live album at a bar mitzvah, they of course played “Hava Nagila.” Afterward bassist Fat Mike (better known as the front man of NOFX) explained that he didn’t like the “traditional” song, so they “rewrote” it and came up with a “better version.” The group then played “Hava Nagila” to the tune of “Feliz Navidad,” with a chorus of “I wanna wish you a Rosh Hashanah from the bottom of my heart.” The line doesn’t make sense without an adjective in front of “Rosh Hashanah,” taking the absurdity of the situation to even greater heights.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8Q-3ifV1c0

Yidcore: Avinu Malkeinu

Yidcore followed in the path of Barbra Streisand and Phish by covering “Avinu Malkeinu.” This liturgical staple of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur beseeches “Our Father, Our King” to have mercy. In Yidcore’s version, the verses and the coda have punk rock frenzy. Arguably, though, the slower introduction and bridge invite inner reflection. Yidcore deserves extra credit for playing a shofar in songs that had nothing to do with the High Holidays and for saying “Shana tovah” in a song about the secular New Year.

Pitom: An Epic Encounter

On Blasphemy and Other Serious Crimes, Pitom addressed the themes and liturgy of the High Holidays. “An Epic Encounter” is the song with the fastest tempo, and it rocked out with intensity toward the end of the album. Guitarist Yoshie Fruchter explained that the song is “supposed to echo as the day is winding down … as things are speeding up” and “echo the movement of” Yom Kippur. He added, “As the day is winding down, the day is getting more intense. … That was the reason for putting that where it is on the record and the feel that it is.” Pitom used intense music to express the intensity of Yom Kippur.

To learn more about Yidcore, Pitom, Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, and other Jewish punk bands, check out Michael Croland’s book, Oy Oy Oy Gevalt! Jews and Punk (Praeger, an imprint of ABC-CLIO).

Flyer courtesy of Yidcore.

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Jeff Rosenstock is only 34, but he’s been in the punk scene for half his life. From ska-band The Arrogant Sons of Bitches to the capitalist-subverting Bomb the Music Industry! (the music was free), Rosenstock has been around, but he’s come to greater prominence recently, releasing three solo albums in five years.

These albums are a delight, because they are the most punk look into the Jewish psyche since, well, lots of punk music is Jewish, but the point is, Rosenstock is neurotic AF and is here to rock about it.

After all, the man’s latest album, from 2016, is called WORRY.

Jewcy is on a summer residency! To read this piece, and our others for July and August 2017, go to our big sister site, Tablet Magazine!

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The Shondes have been around for about a decade, and in the band’s early days, it was all too easy to label them based on their punk/riot grrrl background, their Jewish and queer identities, and their radical politics. The Shondes never abandoned any of those. But with their brand-new fifth album, Brighton, showcasing the band’s songwriting depth and pop sensibilities, pigeonholing the Shondes with such labels would sell short just how far they’ve come.

The opening number, “Everything Good,” is the Shondes’ version of a happy pop-rock song. The musical highlight of the whole album is this song’s breakdown, which combines Louisa Solomon’s beautiful but powerful vocals, a distinctive violin part, and crunchy guitar chords. It’s pretty and heavy, all wrapped up in one. It rocks, especially when performed live at the CD release show this past weekend. The title doesn’t lie: It’s everything good.

The next track, “True North,” is a testament to steadfast faith: 

“When we say ‘next year in Jerusalem’/We say ‘every day is revolution’/We raise the torch, we face true North…/Don’t tell me hope is naïve/It can anchor any strategy/I still believe, I still believe”

The song is about clinging to your ideals, as grounded in Jewish terms.

Solomon explained, “We wanted to write a simple pop song about being at a point in life where our ideals had taken a lot of blows, and yet, the act of imagining (a brighter future, justice, revolution, the mythical messianic ‘Jerusalem’ Jews evoke at Passover) itself could provide a kind of groundedness in conviction.”

The ideas here aren’t simple, though. Solomon noted that the Jerusalem reference is a nod to “an ancient Jewish tradition of imagining,” not the city’s present-day role as the capital of Israel. The Shondes have long been outspoken as “firm opponents of Israeli policy” who “renounce claims of Jewish birthright” in Israel, as Solomon put it.

The Shondes have alluded to Jewish topics throughout their career, but Brighton has the most overt Jewish references since their debut. “True North” is one of four songs—out of ten total on the album—with Jewish/religious content. “My Ghost” and “The House” both mention God in their choruses. The anthemic “Unstill Ones” refers to “what the sages meant” and quotes the Song of Songs. The most-Jewish-since-their-debut characterization is even more apparent if one includes “Jacob and Rachel” from Brighton’s “B-sides” collection.

Solomon was inspired to write “Jacob and Rachel” while planning her wedding. The chorus recalls how Jacob “wept when he saw Rachel’s face” and that he “worked seven years for her love.” Solomon was touched by the story of Jacob weeping for his bride. She explained, “Finding romantic precedent in the Bible is tough … and it inspired this song for me as I tried to write through the intensity of my connection with [my husband].”

The chorus also includes the line “So break a glass for all the past that never goes away.” Solomon used the Biblical story to discuss romance in a Jewish context and then built on it. She said, “I used the Jacob and Rachel entry point, trying to get at a connection that feels way beyond size and words—out-of-time in a distinctly Jewish way, just as the Jewish ritual we were planning at the time pulls us out of linear time and asks us to exist in the company of ancestors and unknown descendants via tradition.”

The Shondes’ overtly Jewish lyrics in particular offer thoughtful commentary from intelligent musicians. These are complex ideas told through rocking songs with pop hooks. Don’t just call them simple pop songs. That would sell the Shondes short as much as all the other labels by which their music doesn’t need to be defined.

Photo by Emily Millay Haddad / Circles of Fire Productions.

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In retrospect, it was inevitable that I’d write Oy Oy Oy Gevalt! Jews and Punk. I feel a personal connection with many of the featured artists, and had circumstances allowed, I gladly would have seen them live more often. Many of them are based too far away, or don’t play often enough. Yet, there are two bands in the book that I’ve seen far more than any others, and I saw both for the umpteenth time last week. Golem, a klezmer-rock band with a punk edge, is the center of attention in my chapter about punk influences on klezmer and other types of Jewish music. Moshiach Oi!, a “Torah hardcore” band, is perhaps the most prominently featured group in my chapter about overtly Jewish punk rock bands.

Why do I keep going to see these bands over and over again? Of course I enjoy the music, and for a long time it was research for my book. Golem and Moshiach Oi! are based in New York and have been around a while (since 2000 and 2008, respectively), which gave me numerous opportunities. But the reasons I went again and again ran deeper.

Golem and Moshiach Oi! reaffirmed for me that Jewish punk (or klezmer-rock with a punk edge, if you will,) was not just a collection of isolated examples. So many of the bands in my book were spread out by time and geography, but they were an exception. Seeing Golem and Moshiach Oi! so often made my research subject—and my passion—tangible. I wasn’t only covering a band that played a few shows or a defunct band from halfway around the world. Jewish punk—and its variations—was still going strong.

Golem’s and Moshiach Oi!’s music—and concert experiences—also give me satisfaction in my identity as an outside-the-box Jew. This happens at a cultural level with Golem and at a religious level for Moshiach Oi!

My first article about Jews and punk in 2005 began by quoting Golem’s then-violinist, Alicia Jo Rabins, and Golem has been a key part of my Jewish punk journey ever since. I recalled my first Golem show, in San Francisco, in my book:

A 2006 concert showcased Golem’s potential to give fans a wild, fun Jewish experience. … When Golem played a hora, two or three women wearing sexy dresses danced in front of the band and helped get a hora dance going. They were called the Hanukkah Horas—with emphasis on the first syllable of the second word. About half the crowd exuberantly joined hands, kicked their feet, and circled around a mid-sized concert venue. After starting out with the standard Hebrew lyrics of “Hava Nagila,” singer Aaron Diskin frantically sang in English about wanting another tequila with lime and salt. Diskin rolled around onstage, stripped down to “A Great Miracle Happened Here” Hanukkah-themed underwear, which two of his bandmates also showed off.

As I moved around the club intertwined with presumably Jewish strangers, I had a euphoric high and felt “Jewishly connected” on my own terms. I wasn’t getting that in Virginia, where I was living at the time. This was fun Jewish culture mixed with debauchery and edginess. I’d waited a long time and come a long way for this. I don’t get as excited every time I see Golem, but that experience is ingrained in my mind as the benchmark for what a Golem concert is.

This past Wednesday was my 19th time seeing Golem, and I’ve written about the first 18. I’ve started a hora, gotten a hora to switch directions and circle to the left, and danced the hora outside in the rain in December. I’ve seen Golem at an Oktoberfest gig, multiple Chanukah shows (latkes were involved), a holiday season concert, and a Christmas tree-lighting ceremony. I’ve even crashed a wedding that Golem was playing at!

Whereas Golem is the band I want to play my wedding when the time comes, Moshiach Oi! was the band at my book release party. I’d been in touch with guitarist Menashe Yaakov Wagner since 2006 about his band White Shabbos, and in 2008, Wagner told me that his friend Yishai Romanoff had started “perhaps the world’s first hardcore vegan straight-edge Orthodox Jewish punk band.” Needless to say, I was intrigued! Around the time Wagner helped expand Moshiach Oi! into a quartet later that year, the label was shortened to “Torah hardcore.”

In November 2008, I went to Wagner’s house and was the first person to interview Moshiach Oi! They’d only played one show, and I was dubious about the band’s prospects. I was wrong, and since then, Moshiach Oi! has released two albums, with a third in the works. The group has been featured in one documentary (Punk Jews) and interviewed for a second (Tikkun Olam) and been profiled in The New York Times. Romanoff graces the cover of my book.

On Thursday I saw Moshiach Oi! for the 10th time, and like for Golem, I recounted every show. A Moshiach Oi! concert is an intense experience, not just because the music is heavy. Romanoff has described the band’s music as “a punch in the face of godliness.” When Romanoff is screaming “Baruch Hashem,” it’s not just art inspired by Judaism. It’s a religious expression of Judaism. “When I’m onstage screaming, I’m trying as hard as I can to only focus on one thing, that I’m doing this for the sake of G-d … only to make G-d’s name great in the world,” Romanoff explained in Punk Jews. Romanoff hopes that his punk rock version of “Shema Yisroel,” for example, makes the prayer more relatable for people who don’t connect with a conventional rendition.

When the opening chords of “Am Yisroel Chai” strike, I get into a focused state. When the lyrics kick in, I scream along with the message of the Jewish people persevering. At my book release party, Romanoff passed me the microphone so I could sing, “We are the children of Abraham… He was the first man to break apart and raise up a fist and smash his culture’s lies and scream ‘Resist!’” Romanoff doesn’t merely tell the story of a Biblical character. He recites it as a battle cry that seamlessly melds his Jewish and punk identities.

When the bridge of “Avoda Zara” kicks in and the musical intensity picks up, I have an out-of-body experience. “No, no, no, I only bless Hakodesh Baruch Hu [the Holy One, Blessed Be He],” Romanoff screams and so do I, before repeatedly screaming “Hey!” in the coda to sustain the momentum just a little longer. During that song, I am filled with a fierce, fierce love for Hashem. That might sound like an oxymoron, but the praise for God is genuine and it’s wonderful. Nothing else brings me closer to God with such concentrated passion in the moment.

I know that that not everyone is reassured in their Jewish identity or feels an unparalleled connection with God. I do, and with these concerts I keep going back for more.

Oy Oy Oy Gevalt! Jews and Punk was published in April by Praeger (an imprint of ABC-CLIO).

Image credits: Cover of Oy Oy Oy Gevalt! Jews and Punk

Golem via Golemrocks.com

Moshiach Oi! performing at the Oy Oy Oy Gevalt! Jews and Punk book release party in June. By Michael Shields.

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Black Francis needs no introduction; unless, of course, you don’t know that Black Francis is also known as Frank Black, Charles Michael Kittridge Thompson IV, or simply as the front man of the Pixies.  If I tried to explain his significance, it would take hours to even scratch the surface, and I really suggest you read his Wikipedia page and then buy everything he’s ever been involved with.

That canon now includes his latest release, The Golem: How He Came Into The World, a soundtrack to the silent 1920 German film version of the tale about the Jews of Prague, and the monster they created to protect them.

Why would a guy who uses a backing band called “The Catholics” tackle one of the most well-known Jewish stories ever?  We figured it was worth finding out.

The first thing that I noticed about your score was the opening: the song in the opening credits was pretty upbeat. I’m wondering why you decided to go with such a song like that?

I the instrumental version of my favorite track, “You’re Gonna Pay”; also, I think it needed to have an exciting opening. We’re about to see a movie AND hear a rock and roll band! It’s a big evening!

What was the process for writing the music for the soundtrack? Did you watch the movie and then write it, or did you write it as you watched it?

As I recall, I watched the movie a couple times, made notes of the scenes, my initial impressions of those scenes, and also how long those scenes were. Then I organized the film into sections, although I think at some point my original notes became almost meaningless as I got into the writing of the music. Then I booked a studio, the band and producer (Eric Drew Feldman), and a room at my favorite hotel in the Japantown area of San Francisco. I would get up early in the morning before the recording session and write chord progressions and general musical arrangements of what would eventually become songs or themes. The band would gather at the studio, run down some music, and then we all recorded together while screening the scenes from a projector onto a wall in the studio; this way we could make sure that the arrangements were fitting into the scenes, or not, as the case was sometimes. Some re-writing would take place on the spot if something occurred to me. After this session Eric and I went to Oregon, where I live, and I wrote lyrics and cut vocals. We mixed the record there, too.

Were most of the lyrics inspired by the film?

Yes, but also the real historical figure of Rabbi Loew, and also what I imagined to be their stories outside the framework of the film or outside the framework of history. I guess I was also inspired by the real life stories of the film maker, the actors, cinematographer, etc.; these were people working at the UFA studio in Berlin just before WWII; of course, some of them were Jews who ended up fleeing to California (the cinematographer) and some of them were non-Jews who ended up making propaganda films for the Nazis (the actor/director who also plays The Golem).

I know you’ve stated you’re interest in Old Testament characters, and now you tackle the golem. Do you just really like Jewish stories?

I never met a Jewish story I didn’t like.

Certain parts of your score reminded me of Neil Young’s score for Dead Man, or a Kenneth Anger film. Any particular influences for the music on this soundtrack?

For sure the Dead Man soundtrack was an influence, particularly the first scene’s music.

What drew you to the story of the Golem? More specifically, what was the moment when you said to yourself “I want to score this film!” ?

Well, to be honest, I was simply asked. I had been asked a couple times I think, and finally I had time to do it. They gave me a choice between two films, and I had seen some German Expressionist films as a student, so I thought I would be able to dig it, and I did. I probably Googled Der Golem and thought it was the right one to pick.

Do you see yourself doing more film scores?

This is a silent film score, which is obviously different than doing a score for a modern talkie. I would like to do that, but it’s not something I would pursue, but rather I would wait to be asked. Now doing another silent score, that I could really enjoy doing. There is so much freedom, and so it more closely relates to what I already do as a writer.

The post From The Pixies To The Golem: Black Francis Likes Jewish Stories appeared first on Jewcy.

When I was twelve I got in trouble for credit card fraud, among other things and was faced with the choice of facing serious trouble, or having to go to a boot camp like program for delinquent kids.  Music was contraband but I managed to sneak a tape of Energy by Operation Ivy.  Every couple of nights I’d fine the one kid that snuck in a walkman and we’d sit in our tents, our heads pressed together sharing the pair of headphones listening to songs like, “Soundsystem” and “Unity.”  To this day I’ve found no sweeter escape than how I felt with one headphone pressed to my ear listening to those songs.  The words felt like the most honest and profound ever written.  I’d never fully realized how powerful music could be, that it could change my brain chemistry, take me away from I was.

A few months later, I returned home, all cleaned up and well-behaved.  I began to study for and then celebrated my Bar Mitzvah.  I agreed to wear the suit my parents picked out and even left my hair un-spiked for the day.  While most of the guests gave me checks, the amounts in multiples of $18, one couple oddly gave me a small bar of platinum, which I immediately put in the pocket of my suit pants.  A few days later I had a friend drive me to a jewelry store that bought the piece of platinum from me for $200.  From there we drove to a tattoo parlor that we knew wouldn’t ask for ID.  I brought along a record and asked the guy to give me the image on cover.  It was the Plea for Peace 7 inch by Operation Ivy and although the image itself didn’t mean that much to me, everything behind it did, and still does.

Operation Ivy started in 1987 and broke up in 1989.  It’s punk rock legend that the band broke up to avoid selling out.  Two of the band members went on to form Rancid, but little was heard from the Op Ivy singer Jesse Michaels.  People speculated to his wareabouts in the years after Operation Ivy and rumors abounded about his journeys across the world and his time in a monastery.  Eventually he re-emerged to form the band Common Rider, followed by a brief solo stint.  Most recently he’s teamed up with the band Hard Girls to form Classic’s of Love.  Jesse is also the son of Leonard Michaels who is considered by many to be one of the great modern Jewish writers.  For a lot of people, Op Ivy is the band that ushered them into the world of punk rock.  For others they are the band that made it all click.   For me, it’s the band that got me through puberty and taught me how powerful music can be, and there is nothing anyone could say that would change that, not even Jesse.  Still, I wanted to talk the guy who was closely involved in this thing that meant so much to so many, even if just to learn a single tiny detail more that I didn’t already know.  If not, at least I’d get to talk to the guy who drew my only tattoo.

Somehow, what you did in Operation Ivy meant a great deal to a lot of people.  For so many people who I’ve talked to about punk rock, Operation Ivy was the entrance into it.  I know people who’ve moved on past punk and listen mostly to music on the opposite side of spectrum, but when the record comes on, they know all the words.  I guess my question is this, why do you think that this thing that you were a part of means so much to so many people.

Well, I can’t really take responsibility for it, I mean the whole was greater than the sum of it’s parts and I was just one of those parts.  I don’t want to sound like I’m being heroic like, “oh I’m glad I could do my little part.”  But, It’s true, I just did my bit and then the whole, which is something I couldn’t control or predict, took on a life of its own.  Which is wonderful, but I’m as much of an observer of the phenomenon as a fan would be.  I was never in a big band, you know, I was in a garage band!  I was never writing anything profound, I was just listening to The Clash and the Bad Brains and trying to do something like that.  Then it took on this bigger life, which is great, it’s cool.  It’s something that I never expected but of course I enjoyed it.  As to why?  I dunno, I guess we were a good band.

I find it interesting to hear you say that you never expected Op Ivy to become what it was.  To me there always seed to be this intrinsic factor… I don’t know, it’s just this one perfect album called, “Energy,” with that striking image on the cover.  Looking at it from the outside, it almost seemed fated.  So I guess I’m surprised to hear that you never expected the reaction.

When I grew up you had these classic punk records, many of which no one has ever heard of anymore.  There was the Bad Brains first album, Jerry’s kids “Is this my world.”  76% uncertain, that was a Connecticut band, there album, “Estimated Monkey Time” was a classic to me.  Then there were some bigger ones like The Dead Kennedy’s and stuff.  So, here are these records that in my world are these huge things.  I expected our record would be much smaller and less important than any of those.  I thought we’d sell maybe 2,000 copies.  But the great thing about punk is that it’s a real medium, it’s not a commercial medium it’s not a marketing medium.  So I didn’t know that because it was punk, it would extend into the future, but I didn’t expect it to expand.  These old bands had sort of a linear extension into the future.  The same amount of people always liked them.  But there was always someone new because it’s real fuckin’ rebel music and it’s always going to have a life.  I had no expectations that our record would expand or become more popular.  That was completely surprising to me.

At this point, I’m sure you’ve had a lot of people express their feelings to you about the band.  I imagine you’ve gotten used to people coming up to you and expressing these deep feelings for this thing that you did.  Do you feel jaded to it?

Okay, for instance, Jaded.  I learned what the word, “Jaded” meant after listening to the song “Jaded” and then looking it up in the dictionary so I could better understand what the song meant.  I think there’s a lot of kids who’ve had similar experiences.  So, do people approach you a lot?  What’s your general reaction?

Well, sort of, I’m not very recognizable and the people who are into the music that I was involved with are generally very classy.  They know that it’s not supposed to be a rock star thing so they’re on their best behavior, which is something I appreciate and it’s the same way I would act toward a band I was into. You never want to appear to be too much of a fan, because it’s sort of against the rules.

Right.

You know, as soon as I start thinking of myself as some kind of rock star, I’m a prick.  So, I guard against that because I don’t want to be a prick.  It’s not because I’m heroic or super modest or spiritual, it’s just because I don’t want to to be a fuckin’ douche bag.  So if someone comes up to me and is all, “ooh ahh,” I’m sort of like, “wow you have a interesting fixation on me, and that’s okay, but it has absolutely nothing to do with who I am.”  I’m just a guy with problems.

On the other hand, great art is great art.  If that’s great art to someone, fantastic.  The music and art that I love, I love it.  Of course there’s a natural attraction to someone who’s made something that’s meaningful. I’m as subject to this as anyone else.  When I met Joe Strummer, I almost shit my pants.  At the same time, I know that it’s just kind of this imaginary thing that I’m doing in my head, that he’s just another guy with problems.

I would imagine that being put on a pedestal for so long would do strange things to a person’s sense of self.  I mean, did you go through a period where it was hard to find fulfillment artistically?  I’d think you’d sort of…

Want to recapture it?

Right.  Or that whatever you might try to do next would be held up to this standard.  Or, if you were to decide that art or music wasn’t for you, what makes for achievement after that, after inspiring people?

You know, I’m human, and of course I’ve thought about those things and been troubled by them.  My side of the street is to do what I can, every day, to do my job as a person.  So, with Common Rider, which was the first serious band I did after Op Ivy, of course those expectations were there.  I also wanted to exploit them.  I wanted to see if I could use the success of Op Ivy to generate more success, I’m not a fucking saint.  But I found that it’s impossible.  People only give a shit about what you’re doing right now.  If you were in a great band and then you come out with a crap band, not saying that Common Rider was a crap band, you’re going to get some legs, you’ll get some gigs and articles and shit.  But ultimately, if you’re not bringing the rock…it’s only going to go so far.  Ultimately it’s just a matter of trying to create the best art that you can, always.

If anything, for me the biggest surprise was…

Okay, so I was in Op Ivy and we didn’t always get along so well, but every time we played music this magical thing happened where the songs came out and they were always really good.  I just thought that was the way it was because I’d never experienced anything else.   It was a big surprise to me when I realized that it’s not always quite that easy, when I found out how lucky we were.  If anything, I developed not so much a fame ego, but an artistic ego, like, “I can just make this musical art and it’s always going to be that good.” And that’s just not true.   That was the hardest pill to swallow.  But I mean, it was a good lesson.  It taught me humility, it taught me to appreciate what I have.  Now I’m in a band and I think we’re pretty good, we’re very part time and I don’t have any expectations, but I appreciate the fact that I’m playing with people and we get each other and are able to do cool stuff.

I think a lot of other artists have this experience.  Take Brett Easton Ellis for instance, he wrote his first novel very young and people really responded.  Then he goes on to and writes other books.  Some are received well and some that aren’t but no matter what he does, people will always be comparing him to this thing that he did as a kid, this thing that was like his first attempt at really creating. Common Rider was great, but it was always prefaced with, “this is the guy from Op Ivy’s new band.”  You’re new band has been pretty well received as well.  So, it seems like you have some kind of perspective on this.

Yeah, I do.  You know, Op Ivy was a white-hot magic.  Now I’m working with slower magic, but that’s fine.  You know, it happens all the time.  It happens basically with every band.  We played a show a week ago and it was really successful, it was a real punk show you know.  The energy was there.   I’m happy with the way things are largely because I don’t have many expectations.  It’s funny that people get so hung up on this stuff and a lot of it has to do with economic factors.  A person hits thirty and they start to worry about their place in the world, but really if you look at it honestly and with a little bit of humility, any success is on the plus side.

Look at it this way, if someone gave me a cake yesterday and I’m sitting here going, “My life sucks because I don’t have a cake today,” It’s not just a bad attitude, it’s also crazy attitude.  Any success you have is incredibly fortunate and the proper attitude should be gratefulness.  If it’s followed by more, even better.  If it’s not, then you’ll still had a great thing.  It’s a privilege to have anyone care about your music at all.  I mean how many bands are out there that nobody gives a shit about.  If you make one song that affects people, that’s a privilege.

I want to ask about what you did after Operation Ivy, when you sort of disappeared.

There was no disappearance, not to sound like I’m bickering with you but just speaking to that idea.  I just made a choice not to be a public figure.  People look at that and say, “Oh he disappeared, how mysterious.”  Really I just never thought of the public life as being all that important.

Were you aware at that point that it was a choice?  Were you aware at that point that people were curious what you were doing?

Yes I was and I basically just ignored it.  Because I was doing other shit, you know?

I know that you went to Nicaragua during that period.  Can you tell me about the time you spent in Nicaragua specifically?  What was your life like when you were there and do you consider to have been a worthwhile experience in the end?

I went to Nicaragua for a couple of months to help with a construction project that was sponsored by a lefty Berkeley organization.  I was depressed and contributed less than I should have.  Although, I remember laying a foundation and moving some giant bricks around.  The main thing I learned from that trip is that most people in the world don’t live the way that we do.  The average Nicaraguan has a dirt floor in their house.  The other thing I learned is that people in other countries have a level of personal kindness that you just don’t experience here.  It’s just a fact in much of the world.  The daily alienation and estrangement we experience in urban America is just not there.  On the other hand, I don’t mean to idealize it.  Obviously, they have their own problems, but warmth is not one of them.

I’ve also read that you were a monk.  Can you tell me about that?

I was never actually a monk.  I studied Zen in connection with the San Francisco Zen Center for about a year.  I like and Zen and I still practice mediation, but it was too much for me.  They meditated for an hour at 4 in the morning and then one hour at noon and then one hour at 8 PM.  If you want to know why it was too much, try it for a couple of weeks.  I was so enchanted by the beauty of the teaching that I wanted to try and get it.  Being young, I went to extremes and it didn’t last.  I made it for about ten months with that kind of practice.  That being said, I learned a lot from my studies and I still carry many of them with me to this day.

I read an interview in which you talk about your early twenties as having been a really difficult time for you.  Since reading that I’ve experienced it myself and met a lot of people who have as well.  I also know that suicide prevention is a focus of the Plea for Peace organization, of which you support.

I was wondering if you knew of Nick Traina, the singer of Link 80 and son of the writer Daniel Steele who lived in the East Bay and died of a heroin overdose.  I ask because it was clear from his music that he was a huge Op Ivy fan.  You’ve mentioned addiction as an issue that you feel strongly about.  Were you aware of what happened with Nick?  Did you know him?

I knew Nick.  Well, I didn’t know him, I met him a couple of times.  As far as the problem of addiction goes, it’s a serious problem.  Without disclosing too much about my personal life, I’ve had some issues with that.  But after many years I was successful in eradicating that problem.  It’s really sad that some people don’t make it.  You know, Nick was a good guy.  It’s just that he had a illness and the illness got the best of him.  I don’t think of addiction as important as a general issue but just as something that I’ve dealt with and overcome and so now I see it as a duty of mine that if other people have a problem with it, to extend myself to them in my life, in my practice of life.

Having been through the unique set of circumstances that you’ve been through, is there a piece of wisdom you feel compelled to share?

When you get angry don’t talk or email or text or whatever.  Wait all the way until you aren’t angry any more and only then say something.  It took me twenty years to learn this.

I want to ask you about your growing up.  Your father Leonard, was an accomplished writer.  Did this have any affect on how you turned out as an artist?

Yes definitely, he taught me the value, the importance of art.  It was never a consideration whether art was important, it was just a given.  I mean art in the largest sense of the word, movies, music, anything.  His psyche influenced mine and I definitely picked up this legacy of creative activity.  More importantly I always just loved him dearly, and I still do.  That was always more important than anything.  All the writer stuff my brother and I just made fun of, but that was definitely there and I’m sure that had some self-conscious implications.

What do you mean “writer stuff?”

He would get some award and we would think it was funny and make fun of him.  He would have writers over and they would have writer talk, and we were always sort of awe-struck.  At the same time he was just out dad and it was all just this drama he did in the world that had nothing to do with our relationship with him.

Did he know about your music?

Yeah he did.

Do you think he was proud of you?

Yes, he was proud.  He didn’t understand it.  He was an academic.  He related to education and scholarship.  But he was stoked about it.  He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it, but he certainly was proud of it.

Often, when I’ve read about your dad, he’s mentioned as a “modern Jewish writer.”  Were you raised Jewish?  Was that a big part of your life?

Well, he came from a generation of Jewish academics in the 50’s and 60’s that were very Jewish culturally but very secular.  Other examples would be like Philip Roth or Woody Allen.  They’re intensely Jewish but not very religious.  If anything they make fun of religion.  That’s how he was.  We would do the holidays and stuff sometimes, but it was always slightly ironic.  I think he had spiritual values but he didn’t really buy the whole religion thing.

Have you considered writing a book?

I have written one book.  It’s a novella and I’m sort of shopping it around and it might get published this year.  Then I’m sort of figuring out what I’m going to do next.

Do you think being a part of the DIY punk scene affected the way you do things now?

Yeah, definitely.  I’ve learned a lot from punk and I’m just kind of a lifer.  Even though I don’t dress punk, or act punk, or identify as punk, it’s in my blood.  It’s the first thing I really loved.  I was twelve years old when I got into it and I loved it.  So, I love it, but it’s also completely stupid, and it’s completely fun and great and hopelessly dysfunctional.  On the one hand I learned sort of independent thinking on the other hand I’ve learned to avoid mental ghettos.  Because punk can be a mental ghetto.  People get into it and make all these rules and pretty soon they’re worse than born again Christians and have stupid three hour conversation about things like, which band is a sellout and is straight edge cool or un-cool and it’s just completely idiotic.  So punk has taught me the aesthetic of the outsider, which is great, but it’s also taught me not to get involved in petty little cults.

Are there any punk bands playing currently that you really like?

I like the Red Dawns.  I like anything that Doug from the Red Dons does.  I think he’s one of the great ones.  I like all the Virginia Neo Hardcore bands like Wasted Time.  I think Government Warning might be the best band in America, but that might be just because I’m an old man and they sound like the shit I listened to as a kid.  Good luck is pretty good, the Tubers, Bomb the Music Industry.

I have to ask you this, I don’t want to, but I have to.  People are always wondering about the possibility of an Op Ivy reunion.  I’m sure you’ve thought of the potential.  I mean a big show or tour could make lots of money for a great cause…. Is there any possibility of a reunion and if not, why not?

I don’t know.  All I can tell you, and I wish I could be more definite, is that my life hasn’t taken that direction and those guys lives haven’t taken that direction.  I don’t think any of those guys are planning on it, and I don’t really talk to them about it.  I think all of us are pretty happy with out lives the way they are.  I don’t think it would be a service to the legacy of the band to have a reunion, I think it would be more of a service not to have a reunion.  People always want more, and I understand that, but sometimes less is more.  Take Minor Threat, could you imagine a Minor Threat reunion?  It would be such a fuckin’ disaster.  I mean it would probably be a lot of fun, but it would be like, “Is this really necessary or helpful?”  So the short answer is life is unpredictable, but there’s no plan for it to happen.

What was the most thrilling moment of your life?

Probably skating.  You know, just shredding. I wasn’t very good but that’s probably most fun I’ve ever had.  Actually shows would be the most thrilling moments of my life and I’m lucky, I’ve had that moment over and over again.

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