Sunday, February 14, 2021

Guns, Ghosts, and Girls: All About the Yiddish Love Song

Do you believe in ghosts? I'm open to convincing, but the only proof I'll accept is when (not if) Leonard Cohen's ghost pays me a visit to whisper sexy ghost things by night. And, with all due respect, sir, I've been locked in my apartment for 11 months. What are you waiting for?

Leonard Cohen singing I'm Your Man is surely responsible for at least 55% of the unrealistic heterosexual expectations held by women across the world. Not that I hold it against him. Unless he wants me to.


For my column this week, I took a look at some of the best Yiddish love songs, with picks by me, as well as a couple of my esteemed friends. 

What exactly is a love song, anyway? One of my favorites has always been Nellie Casman's Yosl, Yosl. In it, a woman is waiting for her lover, Yosl, to make up his mind. Yosl, that cad, is taking his time, while in the meantime, she's being married off to another guy. But our narrator cannot get Yosl out of her mind. 

Baym trinken, baym esn, ken ikh im keynmol fargesn/Yosl, du ligst mir nokh in zin
(While drinking, while eating, I just can't forget him/Yosl, you're always in my thoughts)
If you've ever felt your very life essence trickle away as that special someone took their time to realize you were perfect for them, if you've ever had occasion to unironically say to someone ikh krapir nokh dir (I'm expiring for you) well, you may relate. But is it love? Now, some 20 years after first hearing it, I wonder if Yosl is even a real person. Maybe Yosl is a Fight Club style figment of the narrator's fevered imagination? Let's be real, some of us are just addicted to the drama.
 

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Another friend named Oy Avram as a favorite love song. It contains one of the best (and most over the top) images found in Yiddish song:

Oy, Avram, ikh ken on dir nit zayn!
Ikh on dir, un du on mir
Iz vi a klyamke on a tir!
Gedenkstu, gedensktu, oyf dem bulvar
Ikh der kluger un du der nar?
"Oy vey, Rivkenyu, gib zhe mir dayn piskenyu!"


Oy Avram, I cannot live without you
I without you and you without me
Is like a doorknob without a door!
Remember the day on the boulevard
I was clever and you were silly?
"Oy vey, Rivkenyu, give me your lips!"


I didn't have enough room to include what is perhaps my all-time favorite version: the hair-metal triumph of Yiddish Princess:


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Two of my respondents named In Droysn Iz Finster (It's Dark Outside) as their favorite Yiddish love song. My friend Sarah Biskowitz, a senior at Smith College, described her very sweet association with the song:

"My favorite Yiddish love song is In Droysn Iz Finster because I remember the TA Allison Posner and RA Adah Hetko singing it during the Steiner summer program 2018, where I started learning Yiddish. While it may be a romantic love song, it reminds me of the camaraderie and warmth I have found in the Yiddish community thanks to my teachers, mentors like Allison and Adah, and friends." Awwwww. That made my cynical heart smile.

You can see Allison and Adah perform it together here (with English subtitles):

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When I was at the YIVO summer program in 2019 Lorin Sklamberg taught us a song from the Ruth Rubin archive, a real heartbreaker called Mayn Harts, Mayn Harts.

Mayn harts, mayn harts veynt in mir,
Az ikh darf zikh sheydn itst mit dir;
Mayne gedanken – ahin-aher,
Mit dir tsu sheydn iz mir shver.

My heart weeps within me
Since I must now part with you. 
My thoughts - this way, that way, 
To part from you is terrible.

I dare say the words aren't so different from many other love songs. But there's something about the tune that elevates it to extraordinary. Lorin and Polina Shepherd sing it on their gorgeous new choral (and more) album, 150 Voices. You can see them perform it live, here:

 

But if I can be a little pushy, allow me to give you a firm push toward the Ruth Rubin archive where you can hear the journalist Israel Freed sing an unaccompanied version, which Rubin recorded in 1967. This is taking nothing away from Lorin and Polina, but I've listened to Freed's recording at least 15 times in the last few days. There's something about it, the depth of feeling both in the melody, and his stunning performance, that just pierces me right through....

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In my column I made all too brief mention of Shtil, di nakht iz oysgeshternt (Quiet, the night is full of stars) as one of my favorites. It's one of those songs that can still get me choked up: the subject, the imagery, the tune, everything. The song is credited to Hirsh Glik and celebrates one of the female fighters of the Vilne Partisans, Vitka Kempner. It's quite possibly one of the only Yiddish songs in which learning how to use a gun figures prominently.  

Shtil di nakht iz oysgeshternt
un der frost hot shtark gebrent,
tsi gedenkstu vi ikh hob dikh gelernt,
haltn a shpayer in di hent

The quiet night is full of stars
And the frost strongly burned;
Do you remember how I taught you
To hold a gun in your hand?

The Wikipedia entry on the song cites folksong collector Ruth Rubin on another interesting aspect of the song's imagery. It uses three different Yiddish words for weapon: "shpayer (a local word from Vilnius), nagan (a Russian term referring to Nagant M1895), and pistoyl (a German term) – to denote an automatic pistol. Perhaps this was meant to show multiculturalism of the region."

There are many fine versions of Shtil, di nakht but this one by Daniel Kahn and Sasha Lurje just rips my heart in two.


Whew.
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To end on a lighter note, I'll close with two songs about the marriage of Yiddish food and Yiddish love. First, one of my favorite albums: the bawdy songs of a certain Goldie Schwartz, aka Patsy Abbott. Pretty much every track on Patsy's Yiddish Songs Mama Never Taught Me is gold. And many (most?) touch on matters of the heart (and lung, and liver, and other body parts.) But if I had to choose one to close with, I'm going with Mein Butcher. I can't even begin to translate the lyrics (both single and double entendres), but the gist is, all the ladies go to this butcher. His meat is extremely satisfying and he even throws in a little "bone." I think you get the picture.


And what comes after you visit the butcher? Why, the brisket, of course. Here's Rick Moranis* singing about his mother's legendary brisket. It's the sexy, jazz-y, lounge-y tribute that shabes dinner always deserved.  (*Honorary English language entry)



It occurs to me that just as kids never want to hear what their parents had to do to bring them into the world (ewwww!!!), perhaps it's in poor taste to put the neighborhood butcher in such close proximity to a beloved mama's brisket. But you didn't come here for good taste, anyway, did you??? In other words, I wish you all a lovely Valentine's Day, no matter how you get there.

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