A Judeo-Musical Experience

Down at John Zorn's The Stone (thestonenyc.com), saxophonist Danny Zamir played with fellow Israeli Marc Moshayev on the drums - a chavruta of sorts. The August 31 show was billed as Danny Zamir with his new ensemble. When I saw only Danny's saxophone case and a drum set, I was a little confused, but I knew it would be an interesting night.

Zamir played a soprano sax that night, its slender straight design lent itself well to the mood of the performance: meditative, conjuring up the texture of an ancient land. The lights dimmed, the crowd of fifteen quieted down, and Zamir started off playing the initial phrase of his song "Haser Hamemuneh" from his first album "Satlah" released on Zorn's Tzadik Records in 2000. After the drums joined in I expected a few more rounds of the phrase followed by some wild soloing by Zamir, but something entirely different happened...or rather nothing happened. Zamir played the phrase over and over again for the next forty minutes! The phrase is about ten seconds long, which means he played it roughly 240 times! Zamir sat shoeless and cross-legged on a piano bench half-facing the crowd. His posture coupled with the long, straight horn made him look like a Hasidic snake-charmer neck-deep in a spiritual/musical trance, eyes closed, and body slightly swaying in time. The only way to enjoy it was to join him in his trance. I found myself with my eyes closed, bobbing my head to the melody which faded into the background like a mantra after so many repeats. Over this background, drummer Mark Moshayev was doing wild stuff - we're talking out-of-this-world rhythms with a clear middle-eastern influence pulsing on the bass drum. The song wound down from its climax; Zamir and Moshayev seemed to have reached the end point together and the crowd applauded. Zamir told me afterwards that he didn't plan to repeat so much - in fact, he didn't even plan which song to play! He told me that our lives are "full of distractions" and that the enormous number of repeats brings you "to one place, allows you to get to an inner place, a deeper place." He also remarked that being Jewish has shaped his character deeply and from there has shaped his sound. He believes music is a "holy vessel" to be used religiously. Just as everything is from Judaism, so too is music.

The second and final song of the night was complete improvisation. It involved the repetition of a simple phrase which was slightly changed over time, almost imperceptibly. Eventually the melody morphed into a driving solo by Zamir. His interplay with the drums and phraseology alluded to late-era Coltrane. About twenty minutes into it, things got 'cookin'. The song ended through a gradual return to and deconstruction of the simple melody from the beginning, all the way back down to silence.

There was something Jewish about that night, and it wasn't just the sight of a Hasid ripping on his horn, and it wasn't the chitas sitting next to him. There was Judaism in the notes themselves, breathed into the horn as an act of creation, in the mood of the music and in the interplay between melody and rhythm, saxophonist and drummer. Just as Judaism is meant to be experienced, not merely listened to, this music also needs to be experienced. What I witnessed that night way downtown where immigrant Jews once made their home, was true Jewish music.