Jewfork: Inaugural Edition
Introducing Jewfork, a new “often-as-we-can” feature wherein an anonymous agent snarkily reviews new Jewish music in the vein of Pitchfork Media.
Klezmer Juice Actions Speak Louder Than Words
Gross. Anything that isn’t a fruit or a vegetable should not be made into juice. But perhaps “Juice” here is actually an acronym for Join Us In Creating Excellence, in which case this addition to the heap of faceless klezmer fails completely. The world does not need another slow and painful version of “Eli Eli”. Noticeably missing from this jem is Klezmer Juice’s hit entitled “Hava Nagilah” as featured in “The Wedding Crashers”. That’s right folks, these guys somehow landed that gig probably because someone at New Line Cinema is on an all juice diet. To the band’s credit (can’t bear to type their name again as it makes me think of some sort of Pixies mutilation scene) the title of the record is absolutely perfect as there are no words.
Tuvia Bolton Kav Hamashve III
What do you get when you cross Bobby McFerrin, a blue grass trio, and a U2 cover band from somewhere in middle America? After hearing LSD maven Timothy Leary speak in college, Bolton came to New York to meet the Rebbe, and became a Chabadnik on the spot. 20 years later he came back to rock’n’roll with an album called “Moshiach Blues.” He also drove a truck and played in a “black” band somewhere in there. Oh my. This is his third record and he is apparently working on a fourth unless someone stops him. I had to scan in the back cover too, in the hopes that the owner of that Corvette will leave him in the trunk.
M.O.T. is a purposeful acronym for “Members of the Tribe” and 19.99 is a good deal. Not on CD’s, but in general. Anyway, despite the blatant Beastie Boys, Dr. Dre, Frankie Smith and the Gap Band, and Phunk Junkeez ripoffs (not just style, but lyrics), this high level parody record at least appeals to the youts and maybe makes their parents laugh. Sure, it might set back Jewish culture a few decades, and the consistent use of the word “fuck” will make your bubbe squirm if she can still hear, but at least this is well made and cohesive. In fact Warner Brothers put this out before Bronfman swung by to screw things up, but I digress. M.O.T. actually might fall in line with great Yiddish theater turning stereotypes into points of pride. Then again, it might just offend you.