Magic Jewball

This morning I saw a piece on the CBS morning show about the singer Matisyahu. I use the term “saw” loosely as I was in bed half-asleep, but since my TV is almost always on, I caught bits of it. People ask me about Matisyahu all the time. I’m sort of the perfect storm of person who can answer your Matisyahu questions because I not only work in the music industry but I’m religious Jewish, like Matisyahu. We’re even (fun fact!) from the same town, although most people don’t know that.

But here’s the rub. I think Matisyahu’s music blows. And I sort of hate him for that because I find him a huge embarrassment. At first I thought people would see him as a novelty act and not actually listen to the music. But they did and it seems like a lot of them like it. I have no idea why. I mean, it’s not really reggae like Bob Marley or Jimmy Cliff. He uses a fake Jamaican accent (there aren’t too many Hassidim in Trenchtown, as far as I know) which is just humiliatingly awful. And as far as pop, it doesn’t really pass either. So I don’t get it.

Jon Pareles, my favorite music critic at the NY Times, thinks it’s sort of in the Phish and jam band tradition which Matthew Miller, er, Matisyahu, was into before he became a Hasid. But really, it’s in the Jewish music tradition. Jewish music often just takes real music and substitutes words about Torah and Jewish life. Blech. I hate that. And they never do a good job either, you know, like Weird Al would do. Whenever I meet someone at a Friday night dinner (an Upper West Side singles tradition) and they, hearing me say that I work at a label, ask, “Do you sell Jewish music,” I want to run and hide. Or kill them. Or the second and then the first.

So stop asking me about Matisyahu. Then I can continue pretending he doesn’t exist. Thanks, you’re a pal.

In other, more important, music news, it seems they are making a biopic on the life of Ian Curtis. Anton Corbijn is going to direct. Should be a laugh riot! But seriously, I’m reminded of the Biblical story of Rebecca and Isaac. Abraham sent his servant to find a wife for his son Isaac (shut up, I’m going somewhere with this). The servant asked God for a sign so he’d know the right chick for Isaac, since there were no JDate profiles back then. The sign was, if the woman offered water to not only the human guest, but also the camels, she’d be The One. Rebecca did that, yadda yadda yadda, they lived long and happy together.

My sign is this. If a guy asks me on a date to the Ian Curtis movie, I’ll know he’s my soulmate. Gentleman, take note. I think it’s coming out in 2007. I’ll wait.