01-05-2005
The Holidays -- the Jewish holidays, that is -- may be 340-odd days away, but it's never too early to start planning. You'll need music, and Homesick Songs is a great way to battle the Christmas songs that get stuffed down your throat every December. No, Golem doesn't play a spicier version of "Dreidel, Dreidel" or race through "Chanukah, O' Canukah" at record speed, but the sextet does incorporate the exotic sounds of Eastern European music into their high-energy performance. Klezmer is the foundation for many of these tracks, but Golem also expertly employs Yiddish folk music, Russian lyrics and particularly non-Western rhythms into their mesmerizing and exuberant recording.
At Golem's helm, you'll find multi-lingual musicologist Annette Ezekiel, a brazen vocalist and accordion player who combines a punk attitude with her love for traditional Yiddish music. Along for the ride is an exceptionally talented group of musicians who incorporate varied influences ranging from jazz to classical. It certainly isn't a typical band of dumb wannabe rock (or is it Klezmer?) stars; there are a lot of brains behind Homesick Songs' tune selection and writing, and the song titles stir old-world memories of Jewish shtetls big and small. But just in case you're hesitant to dive into an alien culture, Golem opens the CD with the ultra-hip and very melodic "Odessa", in which they storm through a flurry of accordion notes, ultra-quick up-tempo drums and Ezekiel's quick-tongued vocals. It's a great party-starter that's sure to get your guests off the couch and onto the living room floor, arms and legs flailing wildly. The group continues to exude an amazing amount of energy on the instrumental "Turkmenistaner". A whirlwind of violin notes attack and parry with the accordion as a stubborn trombone blurts out its opinion; they don't come to any sort of peaceful resolution until the track cools down. Aaron Diskin wails out several low cries of despair, only to fall prey to another round of boisterous instrumental melee.
And speaking of Diskin, he steals the show on "Rumenye". The seemingly innocent tune begins with a few bowed violin notes as he coolly croons like a drunken cantor. Then the contrabass kicks in, the trombone sounds off and Diskin's mouth takes off. The polka-like rhythm fuels the outrageous vocalist's antics as he shifts between Yiddish and improvised English lyrics. The famous (at least in Yiddish circles) tune reaches its pinnacle as Diskin spouts off about grandma, pajamas, pickles, pastrami and shrink rays. He'd make the tune's original composer, Aaron Lebedeff, quite proud.
Homesick's only disappointing turn is the gypsy tune "Romanesh". The musicians do an excellent job at sauntering through the exotic melodies, Alicia Jo's violin weeping like a proud Jewish mother. Midway through the track, Annette and Aaron yell out a few English lyrics -- Aaron exclaiming "Thank you mother, for fucking father". It's so unexpected and frankly unnecessary that I was upset by the simple R-rated lyrics. If my bubbe heard it, she'd coldly stare me down, give me one of those crushing frowns and make me regret I ever played Golem for her. The remaining musicians seem to recoil as well -- their playing lacks the finesse with which they began the tune.
Ballads like "Chiribim" and "Belz" make up for Diskin's foul tongue. "Chiribim" sounds like a nursery rhyme, as the ridiculous lyrics deliberate over noodle soup and a watered-down rabbi. "Belz", a duet featuring Diskin and Ezekiel, closes the disc. Named after a Ukrainian shtetl, this delicate tune exemplifies the profound homesickness of many Diaspora. As Aaron and Annette sing along in harmony, the trombone and violin make amends as well, with all the musicians coming together for the chanted chorus.
Golem's klezma-rock blends traditional Jewish sounds with a contemporary swagger, breathing new life into a genre that has spanned several generations. However, you don't have to be familiar with these tracks to enjoy them; the wild instrumental breakdowns and lively vocals add plenty of spunk, driving the tunes into the next century. It's time to stop being such a timid goyim and have some chutzpah! So don't pass up this sassy and sexy revitalization of Yiddish classics. If you do, your Jewish friends will not only think that you're a mega-shlump -- they'll quietly whisper to each other, "Bist meshugeh?" And you don't want to be known as either one.
-- Andrew
