Sometimes I have a hard time connecting to G-d in synagogue. Spirituality is such a personal thing. Too many people around me.
I am really a very private person which is unusual for a performer. It is the introspective quality that people hear in my music. It evokes the core of their neshama (soul) in a private and intense connection to G-d.
The most profound element in my music is the intensity. Listeners feel it, absorb the emotion and the music echoes in their own soul.
People gain an image of what my music is about without reference to Hebrew. This is because the words are so vividly linked to the musical techniques used. For instance, in Kaveh, the hope that we are trying to hold onto when we are in a desperate situation is presented in the opening notes of “Kaveh” (which means “hope”) with a series of dissonant chord clusters. When the words move into “strengthen yourself and G-d will instill courage in your heart”, there is a strong resolution of the dissonance presented. Another example is present in the rhythmic drive of “Nachon Libi” (which means “steadfast is my heart”) reflecting your heart racing towards G-d presence in your life, as if you are singing to G-d with your whole being. It is an announcement that you are ready for a spiritual connection. I will sing music even with my soul. The beat is awakening the world to G-d’s presence in their life.
I studied the violin and piano classically. I came from a mixed world, going from Yeshiva of Flatbush elementary school to High School of Performing Arts. Talk about a transition. I obviously have brave parents. Music got me through my life. People like Joni Mitchell, Kate Bush, Ricki Lee Jones, Samuel Barber, Maurice Ravel and Bach got me through some of the dark times. I knew I met my bashert when we could listen to Barber’s Adagio for Strings and Til Tuesday together for hours on end.