Did Shlomo Carlebach Make Money?

This week marks the thirtieth anniversary of the passing of the legendary Jewish singer and teacher, Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach. Shomo, as people call him, had a profound influence on my life, more than I can even personally reflect on. Born in Germany in 1925, coming from a lineage of rabbinic leaders, Carlebach’s family immigrated to New York before the war. He started out as a serious Talmudic scholar but ended up embarking on an eclectic journey, spending the entirety of his life putting original melodies to Torah verses and performing his original songs to global Jewish dances until his death in 1994. Since my early childhood, my father would play his music in the house. What is more interesting is that my grandfather, who is not at all observant or interested in Judaism, would still play a tape of his music in his car.

My first indication that there was any controversy around this man’s music was when I was hired to play keyboard by an ultra-Orthodox family in Boro Park for their daughter's engagement party. I was around fourteen years old, so the year might have been 2007. The client said, “Play whatever you want, just don’t play Carlebach.”

I don’t think I was shocked because, growing up, there were always controversies around all kinds of things. Natural hair wigs for women were kosher until suddenly they were not. The tap water was safe to drink until some Rabbis said it had bugs and therefore wasn’t kosher. Carrying in Brooklyn on Shabbos was prohibited by some but permissible by others. And then, obviously, when it came to music, Matisyahu and Lipa Schmeltzer were either the greatest thing to happen to Jewish music or the devil incarnate, depending on who you asked. In some sense, I was being raised in an environment of intellectual diversity where, even as a child, I was being exposed to a myriad of opinions on many topics. So when my client said no Carlebach, I said, sure, no problem.

The past fifteen years of my life have indicated that most Orthodox Jews adore the music of Shlomo, me included. When I began playing acoustic guitar at age sixteen, Carlebach’s songs were the songs I learned. I vividly remember my class weekend trip upstate that year, where, together with our Rebbi, we sat around a fire, late into the night. I led all my friends in a sing-along (kumzits) accompanied by my guitar, and we sang Carlebach songs. We had never discussed amongst ourselves how we knew these songs or if we liked them. They were always there, and we were now simply the right age to start appreciating them. I had known the songs since I was a little kid, but they were incubating inside of me for all those years, and now at sixteen, as a singer and guitarist, I was tapping into the spirit of Carlebach. I was Carlebach. I was doing his work, bringing people closer to the spirit through the power of song.

I have largely continued that work until today. When I show up to sing at an event, my acoustic guitar in hand, I make sure to sing current hits from Ishay Ribo and Hanan Ben Ari. I delve slightly into the territory of Eitan Katz and Naftali Kempeh, whose music imitates the style of Shlomo, but ultimately, if this is going to be a night of true kumzits, we are definitely singing Shlomo Carlebach songs. If I am asked to lead Shabbos services on Friday night, we usually end up doing the entire thing using his unique melodies and chants, which replace the traditional Jewish melodies. This is called “Carlebach Kabbalas Shabbos.” Personally, when I recite the traditional Friday night kiddush, I use his unique melody instead of the traditional one.

It seems like, for many in our community, Carlebach’s legacy represents a tiny deviation from the mainstream but one which is largely understood and accepted. There are still communities, I try not to visit them, where his legacy is not accepted, where they would frown on a Carlebach musical havdalah or, gasp, musical selichos, which is a special prayer service that focuses on repentance before the new year.

If one really wants to stick to the traditional sixty-year legacy of American Jewish Orthodoxy, Carlebach’s music should not be in the equation. He was kicked out of Beis Medrash Govoha, the great yeshiva in Lakewood, in the 1960s. He associated with Lubavitch, another important movement, who also ended up distancing themselves from him. He had long hair, hugged women, and was accused of misconduct with them. There are legitimate reasons to try and exclude him from the legacy of Jewish music.

Yet, in many ways, he is Jewish music. His songs touched millions of lives on a profound level. He was the first to do it with an acoustic guitar. He was the first to reach out to young Jews in the hippie movement. He coined the term “Holy Brother,” he inspired the idea of a Carlebach Minyan, and sparked an interest in Judaism in thousands of unaffiliated Jews using his music.

Today, there is nobody going out, bringing unaffiliated Jews to Judaism through their original music. But many performers, myself included, are being contracted by our own community to sing his songs. And this feels weird to me because being paid to sing Carlebach songs seems to be the most un-Carlebach thing to do. Because Carlebach was a wild card. While being a popular Jewish singer in his lifetime, he didn’t get any endorsements from the community. He wasn’t hired to sing at Jewish outreach events too often. I can’t find any records of him singing for Aish Hatorah or Ohr Sameach, which are two massive organizations that existed back then and whose job it was to connect unaffiliated Jews to Judaism.

Whatever mainstream Orthodox acceptance he has now, he didn’t have while being alive. This is normal. It’s easier to cherry-pick and separate the art from the artist once he is no longer alive. You can paint his legacy in a certain light, you can point to his enduring legacy and relevance and use that itself as proof that he must be good despite some of the mistakes in his personal life. I’m not mad about this; it’s just important to remember that in his lifetime, Carlebach relied financially on individual benefactors and ticket sales from his concert, not by Jewish institutions at large.

In contrast, my colleagues and I routinely depend on these institutions. I spend hours crafting setlists that will appeal to the right audience. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this—it just means Carlebach and I are very different. He was a revolutionary. He wrote songs, connected with audiences and didn’t allow financial incentives to govern his life. He took risks, got hurt in the process, and in the end his legacy endured. It’s nice to be paid to sing Carlebach songs. The need to earn a living is real, and musicians, like all human beings need to make a living, need to cooperate with others providing products and services that other people want to consume and compensate them for. 

Here is an interesting distinction, I like singing other people’s songs. I enjoy being a cover artist and singing Ishai Ribo, MBD, Abbie Rotenberg, Ed Sheeran or Billy Joel. But singing Carlebach stings a little because as I am doing it, as I’m earning my keep singing his music, I can’t help but remember that Shlomo himself would never do my job. Simply, being a Carlebach cover singer is the most un-Carlebach thing to do. He would never impersonate another artist just to pay the bills.

So for me the lesson might be, if you want to learn anything from Carlebach don’t just look for more of his deep cuts to sing on a gig. Instead, learn from his fearlessness, from his ability to both learn from institutions and teachers, and also walk away from them when they are no longer serving you. View your art as something more than a way to get a paycheck from an organization who’s vision may or may not align with your own. Like Shlomo Carlebach you’re an individual. You have your own taste. You take risks. You let the people decide how to respond. You pay the price. Perhaps thirty years after your death, you’re an undisputed legend.

My show will take place this Thursday November 21 8:30 pm at Sixth Street Community Synagogue in the East Village. The concert will feature a full band, all original music, and covers of my choosing. Entrance is free.