Role Models: Matisyahu

That what he does is unique is evident to anyone who has experienced his spiritually-infused amalgam of reggae, hip-hop, and rock with the timeless span of Hasidic Jewish soul, from deep sorrow to pure joy.

The former Matthew Miller of Crown Heights, Brooklyn, fell in love with Phish to the extent that he followed them around the country, became Matisyahu in 2004, clothed in the garb of a Hasidic rabbi, and proceeded to rap/sing stunning streams of spiritual exhortation, such as the visceral “Jerusalem,” “King Without a Crown” and others. Opening for his beloved Phish in 2004, he was introduced to a world which had never before experienced anything remotely like him. Many presumed he was a novelty act until they witnessed the heartfelt authenticity of his work. Unlike almost all Jewish songwriters, from Irving Berlin to Dylan and beyond who cloaked their Judaism in songs, Matisyahu embraced his with fervent purity. On his latest album, Light, he brings us astounding epics like “Darkness Into Light,” as well as one of the most beautiful songs about peace ever written, “One Day,” which resides along Lennon’s “Imagine” as a classic song of peace. Adopted as the official song of peace for the 2010 Olympics, it’s a song which proves there’s nothing this man can’t do. We caught up with him on a cold winter night in Brooklyn, where he resides with his wife and two sons.

What is your writing process?

It happens all ways. I have a co-writer for the words, a teacher, Ephraim Rosenstein. We study together, and I then elaborate those concepts into lyrics. Our starting point is usually within the Jewish canon, the first Rabbis, philosophers, writers, mystics, sages. Then we cut away to the core of what it is they are saying about the world and God. And we spend time in meditation delving deeply into ideas and trying to write songs about it.

Your lyrics are both poetic and deliberate. Do you bring a lot of conscious intention to the words when writing?

No. I try to get out of the way. After studying a story, we outline the core ideas. And then try to write in intuitive, primal language. Then I get a basic track or rough musical sketch, and let the music provide inspiration. I take that paragraph of intuitive language and develop a stream of consciousness, a flow, almost like a rapper would, based on that idea and those words.

It’s always about trying to get to the core language, the intuitive language. It’s not how many words, or how big of a vocabulary you have. To me it’s really about what’s the most basic line that just says it all. Just like poetry.

So many of the greatest songwriters, from Berlin and Gershwin through Dylan, Simon, Leonard Cohen and beyond, are Jews. Yet rarely if ever do they write songs about Judaism. How did you come to instill so much of your Jewish identity into your work?

When I was a teenager and I started to write songs, I was writing about spiritual ideas. And when I came across classic texts—whether it was Hasidic texts from hundreds of years ago, quotations from psalms or from the Torah—I would find certain lines that could really be spark-plugs for me, and develop songs around them. In terms of the musical style that I write in, that was initially informed by reggae. I’ve been very inspired by Bob Marley and a lot of conscious reggae artists that bring those ideas out in the most authentic way.

And yet reggae is attached to Rastafarianism and the smoking of weed as a sacrament, something you don’t condone. Is your music at odds with your philosophy?

There are reggae artists who have songs about weed, and songs about Jah and about natural living. I think that in Marley’s canon of lyrics and words and ideas, it’s so much deeper and more authentic than that. If there were certain ideas I didn’t jive with, I didn’t feel I needed to dwell on them just to make authentic reggae music.

Your closeness to Marley is powerful. Your record of his “Redemption Song” is beautiful, and sounds like it’s your song.

I think that’s how it is, how I always felt, when you have a musical connection or a soul connection to a certain piece of music, then you totally immerse yourself in it. You go through what that artist was going through when they were writing or singing that song.

How was “One Day” born?

My record was finished, and I went back into the studio to work with guys who had produced a song that I love by K’naan called “Wavin’ Flag.” I really liked the style of that song, and I always wanted to make a song like that. A very accessible and basic song about hope. With a big beat and a nice chord change. Simple. The guys I worked with were really good at doing that. The words came quickly, inspired by the music. Sometimes when you turn on a track or the music, the words sort of write themselves, and it comes easily. And certain ideas make themselves known. I am very thankful for that song.