The practice of meditation and introspection are central elements of hassidism in general, and the Chabad persuasion in particular. The latter also incorporates plenty of joyous activities, many of which revolve around music. It follows, therefore, that a member of the Chabad community should be instrumental in establishing the annual Kislev 19 gathering, a five-day festival that marries traditional Chabad melodies or nigunim with artists across the spectrum of Judaism. The fourth edition of the festival, the date of which marks an important event in the annals of hassidism, will take place at the Jerusalem International Conference Center from December 3-7. Kislev 19 is the date on which Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady, the founder of the Chabad branch of hassidism and the first Lubavitcher rebbe, was released from prison in November 1798. Naor Carmi has been at the forefront of the national music scene for quite a few years now. The 47-year-old acoustic bass player started out on a range of wind and string instruments, and served in an IDF band before taking a degree at the Academy of Music and Dance of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. He subsequently played with iconic troubadour Meir Ariel before becoming religious and eventually joining Chabad. Meanwhile, his musical career continued to burgeon, as Carmi worked with such seminal cultural crossover outfits as Bustan Abraham and Habreira Hativit. He certainly brings the requisite pedigree to Kislev 19 which, this year, stars a slew of big guns from the religious musical fraternity, such as Avraham Fried, Ariel Zilber, Yonatan Razel and Yishai Ribo. Other stellar contributors to next week's 12-concert program include Kobi Aflalo, Kobi Oz, Shai Tzabari, Amir Dadon and Shlomo Gronich. It is a mightily impressive lineup that is sure to bring the crowds flocking to the Jerusalem venue. Carmi is a good person to ask about the uniqueness of hassidic music, and his answer offered a surprising perspective on the genre. “In general, hassidic melodies, first off, are not written by musicians,” he notes. “They are righteous people or hassidim who were only thinking of serving God; they were not thinking about ratings or money or such things. They were simply thinking about the music from the point of view of serving God.” So there is no technical musical element involved at all? “None whatsoever,” comes the reply. “Music is only the means, not the end.” But doesn't every genuine artist adopt that spiritual approach? Isn't there some purity of intent to all creative processes? Carmi says there is a street-level factor to be taken into consideration, too. “First and foremost, musicians need to take care of their families. That is also important,” he insists, adding, “It is perfectly legitimate for a person to want to make a living.” The bass player argues that the driving forces behind hassidic niggunim come to the creative fray from a completely different angle. “These melodies were created by people who worked on themselves very intensely, before the music came into being.” And, says Carmi, the proof of the spiritual pudding is there for all to hear and feel. “When you hear the music you connect with all of this.” The Kislev 19 festival is touted as an event at which “artists perform personal, new and moving renditions of hassidic melodies.” That appears to suggest that the featured musicians take material that has possibly been sung by hassidim the world over, at all kinds of ceremonies and gatherings, and run with it. That, says Carmi, is a means for getting the hassidic word out there to the public at large. “The idea is to tell the world about hassidism, to bring these melodies down [to ground level]. You can bring people into contact with the world of Judaism, for the first time, through this music.” That might bring the non-cognoscenti closer to the fold, but there are pitfalls, too. There are always the purists who, for example, like to hear modern jazz played the way it was first performed back in the 1940s or 1950s, and struggle to accept the fact that, as an art form, jazz has to evolve. Carmi says he has a similar minefield to navigate at his end of the musical spectrum. “I have been heavily criticized for playing around with hassidic music from people who understand the music and tell me that what I do is not faithful to the source. I don't always do that but, on a couple of numbers, there were singers who set the tone and I followed suit.” Basically, Carmi just wants to make the music he loves so much touch the soul of anybody who hears it. “Some of the niggunim, in their original form, are not accessible to everybody – people won't like that, they won't connect with it. To them, the songs sound outdated, and seem to be unsuitable for our times. It's like a record of [iconic pioneering jazz trumpeter] Louis Armstrong. I love that but not everyone likes it. “Then you get people like [Mizrahi singer] Amir Benayoun [rocker] Berry Sakharoff or [leading Jewish music artist] Shuli Rand, and say a Russian listens to their music, that draws them in.” But, for Carmi, this is no gimmick just to attract people to the festival and, possibly, to hassidism. He says the music has to come from a genuine place. “The artists have to bring themselves to the music they perform. If they are not moved by the music no one else will be moved by it.” Carmi also brings his baggage to the fore in his work. That takes in wide musical and creative expanses. “Yes, I bring all of that into what I do,” he states. “That” includes jazz, Eastern music and much else. “I am like a tailor,” he suggests. “I can offer one suit or another. I use the suit I feel is right for the job in hand.” Jazz backdrop notwithstanding, Carmi says he does not indulge in improvisation in his live work. “I do that in the arrangements, in my studio. It's like being set free in a big candy store,” he laughs. “I enjoy that.” The bassist cites an incident that happened to him while producing a song for Fried. “By mistake I closed down all the instrument channels, I set them on mute, and I only left the bass drum and his voice. I listened to it and I thought, this is groovy, this is great. Avraham told me that, to begin with, he found it difficult to deal with, but then he said it was amazing; that he'd never sung just with bass drum.” Pioneering jazz trumpeter Miles Davis once said there's no such thing as a mistake in music, and that it is just an opportunity to take off in a new direction. “That's a very hassidic way of thinking,” notes Carmi. “Mistakes can spawn things that I would never have imagined. When a leaf falls in the wind, you can't know on what side it will fall. That applies all the more to someone who does something which appears to be a mistake. You can never know what it will lead to.” Judging by the first three years of Kislev 19, it is more than likely that the festival lineup will lead to the usual rapturous applause, packed houses and an entertaining and uplifting experience for one and all. For tickets and more information: 072-260-9966 and tickchak.co.il/tzama
The all-star Kislev 19 lineup (from left): Yonatan Razel, Avraham Fried, Yishai Ribo, Ariel Zilber and Naor Carm(photo credit: OHAD ROMANO)