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Teaching A Rabbi To Phish

by Rabbi Shmuel Skaist

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January, 1994. It's 3:00 am and I'm exhausted. I'm on a flight back to the States from Israel - we've just taken off after a 3 hour delay - and I pop in this CD that one of my students has been telling me I MUST listen to. I press play and settle back for the ride. The album is Rift by a band called Phish and very quickly I decide that my student must either have mistaken me for another Rabbi, or he was taking revenge for a poor grade I'd given him on a recent test. The rest of my CD's are stored in the overhead and I'm too tired to go through the hassle of retrieving them so I drift off into a restless in and out of consciousness sort of sleep. Somewhere into this void an annoying voice intrudes singing something about sleeping diagonally or lengthwise in a bed - at that point I would've given anything to be sleeping in any position on a bed - and I'm surprised that this was included on an album. A little later a vague notion that someone has a friend a friend who's got a knife horns in on my slumber. Next thing I know I've landed and I put away the CD thinking that it was most annoying.

There's a statement in the Talmud. "From all my teachers I have learned much but from my students I learned even more than that." For me this has been true not only in intellectual but in cultural pursuits as well. I, an Orthodox Rabbi, had a rough start in acquiring a taste for Phish but after a few months of diligent study my students teaching efforts were triumphant and I was hooked. It got to the point for a while where my listening repertoire consisted of shows and nothing else.

Skip to December 30, 1995. It's a Saturday night and I've just finished a weekend lecture series in New Jersey and I'm driving into Manhattan to meet Cookie (cousin/student/friend) in front of Madison Square Garden to see Phish. I look at my watch and it's clear that I will not be there for the first song. Cookie calls on my cell phone - where are you? - I tell her I'll be a little late and she is fuming. Haven't you ever been late to a concert before what's the big deal, I try to calm her down. No, she says, never to a Phish show - it's obvious you've never been, Rabbi. Finally I park the car, find a furious Cookie and get inside. My first show. How did I like it? I loved it. The vibe was really positive, the people were nice and the jamming was awe inspiring. I met many wonderful people at the show. I appreciated the openness and friendliness that prevailed among the fans. I was accepted despite my chasidic appearance as one of the crowd and the many questions and comments that I got were friendly and respectful.

It was not the most powerful event I have ever experienced at MSG. That was in 1991 when I attended the ceremonial completion of the entire Babylonian Talmud by 25,000 orthodox Jews at the Garden (it is completed once every seven years by studying at the rate of one folio per day every day). Phish was a vastly different scene. The bright colors and variety all around me were a stark contrast in my mind to the thousands of men in dark suits and modestly dressed women who had been sitting in separate mens and womens sections. I had learned much from that experience, could this one teach me as well? Part of me said no. This is not your place, this is different, you have nothing to gain by being here. Yet in a strange but important way I felt that there was something meaningful to be gotten here.

To my mind Phish and jambands in general form cultural phenomena. In his book, Goedel Escher Bach, Douglas Hofstadter discusses the cultural knowledge necessary for interpretation of music. Hofstadter makes the claim that for an alien in another galaxy who has never been to earth, Bach would be far easier to understand then more modern music (he is referring to experimental music by the composer John Cage). Essentially his argument is thus: Modern music lacks structure and form. Therefore, modern music would mystify a culturally deprived intellect like an alien because there would be no context by which to evaluate the music. Bach would be easier to interpret without cultural context despite the fact that his music is intrinsically more sophisticated. For its complexity results in music that has a higher structural pattern and specific form and these are things which a purely intellectual and non culturally conditioned entity could relate to regardless of context. (*Goedel Escher Bach page 174-175)

I would argue that here on earth we see a curious twist on this idea. Bach doesn't sell as well as popular music. There are far more radio stations playing rap and R&B than classical music. Using Hofstadter's theory we can understand why. Our cultural knowledge and background is much closer to the music of our day and age. To me as a youngster Bach seemed antiquated and almost too austere and rigid for our age. This does not mean that I ignored Bach. Rather, I studied a bit, worked on my ears and read some history and eventually I think I was able discover what's so great and important about Bach.

I believe Hofstadter's theory may be the reason so many people are either passionately connected or completely disconnected to jamband music. People are not Pareve (Jewish word for non-dairy and non-meat which has taken on the meaning; middle of the road) about this music. Jamming by definition has less structure then a predetermined musical arrangement and its interpretability is affected by cultural familiarity. This applies not only to appreciation of the music but to understanding the people who like this music as well. One can respect the fervor of an Ominous Seapod or Innasense fan without ever having seen them live only if one is familiar with the cultural background that attends this type of music.

This theory would also explain why it took me so long to get Phish. I did not have the cultural background to appreciate it. I grew up in a strictly orthodox environment where secular non-religious music was considered taboo. Although I sneaked a lot of good music into my system (Beatles, Floyd, Jethro Tull, Zeppelin etc.) my exposure to the cultural aspects of Rock and Roll in general was minimal and my exposure to the jamband aspect of Rock and Roll was nonexistent. So I was not properly equipped to easily interpret the music.

I believe that this is not only true of Rabbis but of people in general. For instance parents of some of my student have protested their being interested in "that jumble of sounds you call music". If they haven't had the exposure to this culture it is difficult for them to appreciate what it's all about. Thousands of youngsters milling about looking for trouble is what they envision. They are wrong. There is a culture at work here, young people who are searching for meaning in their music - these are the real fans. Those who come only for the 'good time' or for substances are missing the point as badly as these parents are.

The music and the culture are inextricably intertwined. This is clear. At least for fans it is. I suspect that this is not the case for the band members. A musician doesn't write music for the culture. The culture develops around the music and persona of the band. I am sure Phish finds this disturbing. On stage they are creating textures and patterns in their musical world. Yet these are reflected in the culture that continues to evolve in the audience opposite them. That culture must be periodically both disturbing and exhilarating to the band. Like when one of my children does something I disapprove of and I realize that it is a magnified version of a trait that I myself possess. And vice versa when my kids do something I'm really proud of and I know that this too is a reflection of me. Whether they like it or not Phish is more than their music.

I find in all of this a curious parallel to my life and profession. There is a very old and venerable culture attached to my heritage that is part and parcel with the laws and customs we observe. If one does not have the cultural background it requires a lot of effort to be able to relate to and understand who we are. Just as there are people who reject jamband music without any serious effort to understand it so too many people reject my way of life out of ignorance and without the slightest attempt to understand my cultural background. Without trying to appreciate the music in my way of life. Appreciation doesn't always mean acceptance. I can appreciate Phish without accepting everything that goes along with it.

Another similarity is that I as a Rabbi have to understand that like it or not I am much more than a teacher of ancient texts and their laws. What I teach is constantly reflected in the lives of my students both positively and negatively. I need to know that these are a reflection of me. I can be proud of my students accomplishments yet I must be prepared to accept responsibility for their failures as well.

I never really thanked that student of mine who convinced me to start listening to Phish. I really should. Because I've learned alot from him. I've learned to appreciate a great form of music and the culture that comes along with it. And perhaps more significantly I've learned a lot about myself.

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Rabbi Shmuel Skaist is an Orthodox Rabbi, lectures in philosophy at a major Israeli university and performs music regularly in Jerusalem nightspots. Although living in Jerusalem he's been to 18 shows and only been late once. He will be on Phish tour this summer with his organization, Gefiltefish - Appetizers for the soul.