Mayim Bialik's Breakdown - Does God Feel Pestered By Humanity, with Matisyahu

Episode Date: March 12, 2024

Psychedelics, Making a Deal with God, the Unity of Music, Wilderness Therapy, Untying Identity from Physical Appearance....this episode has it all!   Dive deep into the soul-stirring journey of renowned musician Matisyahu, where music and mysticism collide in an unforgettable revelation.   We explore Matisyahu's self-diagnosed learning disabilities, his life as "the last hippie", and the spiritual awakening that led him from dropping out of high school to become a Dead Head and follow Phish on tour, to a stint in rehab and an empowering experience in a wilderness therapeutic program.   This is a RAW & REVEALING account of how psychedelic experiences, spirituality, and music have intertwined to shape his path from a troubled youth to a reggae music sensation!   Matisyahu also opens up about his move toward becoming very religious in his Jewish faith - including growing an extremely recognizable beard and studying at the yeshiva - the intersectionality between reggae and Judaism, the underground healer who saved his life, and the ebbs and flows of his relationship with religion....PLUS where he’s currently at with it now.   From pairing psychedelic drugs with spirituality and music at an early age - leading to a deep calling to dedicate his life to God and his music career - to the pressures of fame driving him to shave his iconic beard, this episode is a very personal examination of the ties between loneliness and spirituality.   Don't miss this powerful episode that challenges us to question: Does God feel pestered by humanity?    Matisyahu’s new EP, Hold The Fire: https://open.spotify.com/album/4F9mJZpV1TLqBEQefHe2Bt BialikBreakdown.com YouTube.com/mayimbialik   Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

And I got hit by a car in the Bronx to hit and run. I started feeling this feeling of like, I know I'm supposed to do something really special, and I have no fucking clue how I'm going to do it. And I started just praying, even though I didn't know what the words meant. I felt really alone, and I was like, I feel like the only thing that can, like, sued me is somehow,

for some reason or whatever, I called it God. It's like, God will be the thing. And that's what will give me, like, the success. That's what will give me, like, somehow God is going to do this for me, and I'm going to, like, make a deal with him. Like, old school, like, basic shit. Like, I'm going to, like, not smoke weed, and I'm going to be, like, really disciplined, and I'm going to, like, serve him. Prayer for me was always, like, a thing that felt real to me because I'm more of a heart person than a head person, probably. So for me, it was always, like, okay, you call, like, calling out to God at that time.

Like, how am I going to become Modest Ya? And I didn't know it was Montessiago, but, like, how am I going to become? this thing that I want to be, you know? And then like pray to God for it. I always kind of have this little bit rebellious sort of side to myself, kind of like that I'm going to do my thing. I have this like dream, you know, of being free, shaving my beard, getting divorced.

The religion is just like I feel stuck in it. I don't feel like I really am moving in it. I don't feel like the same inspiration that I did. It was like I woke up that morning and I was like, This is my face. I own this face. No one else does. If I want to shave, I can fucking shave.

And I did. I went into it. I cried. I bawled my eyes out. This like Puerto Rican chicken supercars just like shaming way. She's like, when you're sure? I'm like, yep, I can do it. It's my and Bialics breakdown.

She's going to break it down for you. Because you know she knows a thing or two. So now she's going to break down. It's a breakdown. She's going to break it down. Hi, I'm Miami-Aelic. And I'm Jonathan Cohen. And welcome to our breakdown.

This is the place where we break things down so you don't have to. How about we break down addiction, spirituality, who can make reggae music, and is God in the fire? Just another Tuesday. For nearly two decades, this guest has kept his creative spirit. aflame by evolving his sound, melding genres and testing the limits of the musical traditions that inspired him. We are speaking with Matisjahou, whose recording career began in 2004. His breakout track, King Without a Crown, blasted into the Billboard charts in 2005. He also wrote One Day, which you may know, Jerusalem, you may know. He had significant dreadlocks, which he actually could. He actually

cut off and burned in a fire before he became a recording artist and religious Jew. He has since left Orthodox Judaism but still is putting out unbelievable music. His latest release is Hold the Fire. The single Fireproof takes inspiration

from a dream he had with strong connections to Judaism. But he is a Grammy-nominated Billboard number one ranked the gold certified musician.

You do talk a lot about the Jewish content of some of his songs and I think it's, you know, for me, you could remove the Judaism and this spiritual uplift no matter what you believe in, no matter what faith or background you come from, is still so powerful. There's something that moves through this man in his music

that is transformational, transfixing. It's really otherworldly to hear this man sing. I don't think I've ever heard him talk as in-depth as he does about his teenage years, what his rebellion looked like, why he dropped out of high school to follow fish, being in rehab twice, wilderness camp changing his life, and then discovering music and then discovering traditional Judaism. And how he got discovered in music, They had this raw talent in the era of hip hop being in New York City and sort of how he got discovered and exploded onto the music scene. It's really, he's such an amazing storyteller.

He's a great storyteller, and he really talks us all the way through his journey in and out of observance, in and out of faith. And he talks a lot about what his role is now with his older son living in Israel and how he sort of has chosen to use his platform to keep putting, out music that is really, really spiritually uplifting. I mean, that is the word and really, really dialed in to so much of the human experience.

It's really so excited to welcome to the breakdown, Matasiyahu. Break it down. Hey, Ma'am. How you doing? Long time. It's been a while. I mean, Matasio, you were my top Spotify listen of 2023. I have the evidence to support this.

Well, thank you. Thank you very much for that. We've wanted to have you on for quite some time, and we're really, really excited to get to talk to you. So I hope you will indulge us and do a little bit of a stroll down memory road, as it were. We obviously, we love your music. We love all the things that you stand for. We love sort of the journey that you've been on. But I do think it's important for us to hear a little bit about your journey, because I think it also helps kind of underscore, you know, where you have arrived musically. So you were raised in white plains, correct?

Correct. And you were not raised religious. You were raised, was your family reconstructionist? What was your kind of religious participation? Yeah, reconstructionist. Can you explain what that is for people who don't know? Sure. So my parents are both New York Jews.

And actually, we lived on where I was born in Pennsylvania on a farm, not on the farm in the hospital. But my parents found out that the, the owners were anti-Semites. There was like a boy that used to come have breakfast with them, the farmer's son, every morning. And on the news one day, sure enough, is something about Israel or something and the kid says, my parents said they should have all died in the Holocaust. Oh! My parents literally got in a car with me. I was like three months old and drove to Berkeley,

California. That's the other place where people do think that we should have all died of the Holocaust, but that's a different story. That's the ironic thing, at this point. But at that point, it was. It was like 10 years after the sixth, you know, it was like, you know, they wanted to live there during the, during the, the hate, you know, and that during, so it was like 79. It was a little bit later. And they drove cross country and we lived there until I was four and then moved back to, to White Plains, New York.

Where I was where I grew up. So Jewishly, Reconstructionist Judaism kind of rejects the notion of chosenness, but still embraces a lot of the ritual, right? It's still got a lot of like feel good stuff. Yeah. But it's very much equal, like, men and women being called up to the Torah. Both men and women are wearing yarmulahs and talises and if they want to wear it to fill in, you know. Sort of like the religious thing is kind of like everyone has a different level.

You know, I would say the majority are more towards a reform level. But some are actually coming from Orthodox families and just kind of like found Reconstructionist Judaism as a way to be able. able to believe what they believe, you know, common sense kind of things, basically. But yeah, so basically it became important to them when I was like about maybe six years old. And so that Hebrew school had three times a week. So four to six, Monday and Wednesday and Sunday, 10 to 12. So it's kind of a lot if you're not religious. And it sucked for me. It was like, it was really hard for me. I was in a class that was all girls and they were all from Starsdale. My father ran a homeless housing agency, and my mom was a social worker in school.

So it was just like a whole different. It was just weird. And I think I have learning disabilities, as your team just found out, you know. But like, basically, it was very difficult for me. And I did not enjoy it at all. But it did teach me, like, the language, the Hebrew. I learned how to read Hebrew. And I did hang out there even past my bar mitzvah.

when I was like 16, someone came to talk about program in Israel, and I went. I went for three to four months or something like that during the school year in Hohdah Sharon in a conservative program. And that kind of was definitely game-changing experience for me in my life. Yeah, there was once some study that came out, I think it came out probably when I was in college. I did a minor in Hebrew and Jewish studies. And so we talked about a lot of these sorts of things. There was some study that came out that actually said that going to Hebrew school like a couple times a week could be more damaging to a kid's Jewish identity than not going at all. Because it was like, you're getting these like bits and pieces and it's like not really integrated

into your life, but like they're trying to integrate it. I'm a little bit older than you. I mean, I'm a handful of years older than you. And like all the boys dropped out after Bar Mitz. I was raised in a reform synagogue. And all the boys dropped out. And it was like a bunch of girls. But I like, I went all the way. I was confirmed. I wanted to be a rabbi. Like, I love chanting. but also this was like, you know, in the 80s and early 90s where it was like women, rabbis, what? You're crazy. Where did you grow up again? I forgot. I grew up here. My parents are from the Bronx,

and they lived in the village, and they moved to the West Coast when my mom was like nine months pregnant. So I was raised in like the Melrose, Fairfax area. So I was raised in one of the more Jewish parts of Los Angeles that you can be raised in outside of sort of wealthy communities. I was not raised in a wealthy community. And my mama lesion was Yiddish. Like that's the language that my mother spoke to me in.

My mother's parents were immigrants from Eastern Europe. And on my father's side, my grandmother also immigrated from Eastern Europe. They were, you know, leaving the pogroms before the Holocaust. So I grew up. My mom was raised Orthodox, like Eastern European Orthodox, like superstitious, like not really believing in Western medicine. My grandparents never really spoke English. So I grew up with like very much Eastern Europe kind of hovering in the Holocaust sort of

like just outside of, you know, your plane of understanding. But yeah, I was raised in L.A. I'd say I was raised in L.A. like it was the 1940s in the Bronx, very old-fashioned kind of upbringing. And my parents, I don't think, had a strong belief in God, but they wanted me to have some Jewish, you know, structure. And so I went to this reform synagogue, but, you know, I was kind of like the one who always wanted to do more.

And, you know, I went to Hebrew school. MyNBialx breakdown is supported by Superpower. We all know the feeling of leaving a doctor's office and kind of feeling like we didn't get anything out of the experience that was useful. Maybe they're like, you're fine, drink more water. There's no real data. There's no game plan. This has happened to me many, many times,

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Not only did Superpower reduce their price to just $199, but for a limited time, our listeners get an additional $20 off with the code break. Head to Superpower.com. Use the code break at checkout for $20 off your membership. And after you sign up, they'll ask how you heard about them. Make sure to mention My Ambiotics Breakdown to help support the show. You had a rebellion paired with the Grateful Dead and Fish, correct, in your high school years? I was sort of like the last hippie. I was like, I hung out with some of the older kids that were like the leftover hippies.

There was like a couple. But there had been like a glorious group of years at White Plains High School sometime in the early 90s where there was like a bunch of, you know, deadheads and people that left home a couple of people and were living in their cars in Cape Cod. And you heard like the legend of Jason Liktie or, you know, there was a kid named Ronald. with these huge dreadlocks and he was like 13 and he like left he left home early too um so there was sort of like this thing but if you wanted to hang out with hippie kids you had to kind of go around there was uh the wetlands and uh i think it was Tuesday night was like free in manhattan and it was

like grateful dead cover night and there was drum circle downstairs and young hippies from jersey and connecticut and new york would flock to this place and that was you know everyone would talk about what their plans were or whatever, if they were going on Dead Tour, Fish Tour, or Rainbow or what the plan was. Did you follow Fish? Like, were you a Fish follower? I did.

I dropped out of high school and I went on Fish Tour. Did you ever see The Dead? Because we're the same age. And I was supposed to go see Jerry in Toronto. I forget if it was 93 or 94, but he died that summer right before. And I didn't get to see him. But my brother, who was three years older,

had, you know, his friends got the last of those runs. Yeah, I got to go to a couple shows at MSG. There was a girl, Maggie, that was kind of, she was like Winnie Cooper from the Wonder Years. Like, she was kind of nerdy and really skinny. And then she came back one summer, and she was beautiful, but no one was, like, willing to move past, you know, what they knew.

And I was always really nice to her. her and then her dad was a fucking deadhead and she my karma came back to me and they invited me to MSG to see the dead and I got to see Gary Garcia when I was like 14 or maybe I was younger I might have been 12 I was going to say you 12 or 13 probably I think 12 or 13 I was in middle school because I remember

like people smoking weed even offering it to me and not really knowing what what it was and a year later for sure I knew what it was you know but yeah So that, and then my parents were deadhead. So when we lived in Berkeley, when I was bait, like one, two, and three years old, I was at the Oakland New Year shows, like 1980, 81, and 82. So I never got to see Jerry, but my brother had a collection of tapes, and I would go into his room and start stealing, steal slash borrow his tapes,

and began to have a huge collection. And we had a bunch of our friends who were tape collectors, and we would trade and, you know, would take three, cassettes and then have to record them and then give them back. So we could do a deep dive on the years of Grateful Dead that you like the most, which Miami is going to roll our eyes at. I mean, I don't know why we're talking about anything besides everybody's favorite Grateful Dead songs.

I mean, I'm not a Donna fan, so that, that, like, knocks out those years. That takes out those years. A nice little chunk. But, yeah, I do like 80s. I like early 80s, grateful dead for sure. I'll take a 74, 72 over an 80, but I understand where you're coming from and like a 78. Yeah, yeah. I get it also for sure, 72, 74, but like something about that time frame that's just the cornyness of like the keyboard sounds.

I just, I kind of love it. I don't know why. Jonathan, are you done? Do you need more Grateful Dead time? I mean, we could go probably for a lot longer. We've barely scratched the surface. but given that this is not a Grateful Dead podcast, I will wrap this section by saying that a lot of my friends,

I didn't drop out of high school, although I wanted to. Mostly I didn't drop out of high school, I think, to follow my friends on tour because of the driving. My brother was in a really bad accident, and so I was really, like, nervous about all the, you know, after the show,

people were just, like, on the road, and that sort of freaked me out. As you should be. The driver, I was coming home from a fish concert once and the driver in the Vokeswagon that I was driving and just literally fell asleep. And I was like, trickling.

It was horrible. And drove off the side of the road and took my head out of like a ditch, like still on acid. Well, that kind of leads into my next question, actually. I was going to ask, and I'm not asking in sort of like a sensationalistic way, but I am curious about sort of,

you've talked about your experience with hallucinogens and with sort of, you know, I mean, I would say, see it as sort of your first dip into a transcendental, you know, space. And I'm curious if you can talk a little bit about what that opening was for you as a teenager. You know, we don't, on this podcast, we don't like tell people to do drugs or not to do drugs, but I do think that especially because access to a spiritual notion is such a big part of your music, that I would be curious to know if any of those experiences felt like a touch of spirituality or if it just felt like fun,

or if it was linked more to music? It's always been this combination for me between mainly spirituality and music and some kind of personal struggle that I'm going through, which always kind of like comes up in front of my face. And so early on as a kid, taking psychedelics at like 16, this is a little scary

because you don't really know how to deal with those things a lot of times. And that can put you into a bad place that's like hard to recover from. It's really powerful psychedelics. It's not like having a beer, smoking a joint, or taking even an edible. It's like, you're really messing with your brain. And so, and at the same time, it is, it is incredible. Like that first trip, I was 16, I was at Worcester Mass at the center of seeing fish for the first time with a good friend that I had just met in Israel.

And kind of like had some freedom. We had a car and we were going to see fish and we took dropped acid together. And, you know, the memory like that I mainly have from that show, it's kind of a little bit blurred, but it's like this feeling during the music that this was like literally all I wanted to do for the rest of my life. And I didn't know what it was, like how I was going to do it or what, like what that looked like. all I knew was like I felt a deep calling that there's something about this music that's just so powerful. And the feeling of everyone being unified, like colors meshing, sound, people, and everyone together is kind of like real spiritual feeling. I guess it would be like the first time. Well, not the first time, but like one of the first few times that I felt like spiritual feeling of God.

A lot of other times, like, early on, the spiritual feelings that I had were linked to, like, a sadness, like, this feeling of, like, loneliness. Like, I went to that same year, that summer I went to into Colorado, and I did, like, a sweat lodge on, like, a trip and was, like, out in the woods, hiking around. And I remember then this feeling, like, of what I was referring to as God. But it was, like, this feeling of loneliness, like, for the first time, like, really. really deep feeling of being alone, like, in the world. And so that was, like, my first, like, spiritual feeling. Was the notion that God was the antidote to that? I don't think so.

I think it was, like, the feeling, like, the haunting feeling of something, like, that isn't really, that isn't there. You know, it's like, I don't, yeah, it's a great question. I don't really know. But the fish feeling was quite the opposite, you know, was filled with all the sensory and all this intensity and sound and people. And that was a, you know, it's a very different feeling than being sitting on a mountaintop in Colorado after, you know, dipping, you know, in freezing cold creek water

after getting out of a sweat lodge. And then you're just like, you know, very awake, but very different kind of feeling. The sadness I can relate to as a sense of spirituality because in some ways it's just the most intense emotion. And so if for me, if I was not used to feeling any sort of emotion, all of a sudden the intensity of something like sadness can feel spiritual because it's just,

you know, not the opposite, but an extreme. Yeah. Absolutely. And it's sort of something that you're feeling something outside of yourself maybe. Like you're feeling this other or you're feeling that,

you know, you're part of something. and sometimes that feeling part of something can be like an incredible feeling and sometimes it's like can make you feel very small, I guess, you know, or very alone. It's a foreign concept, at least,

to a lot of Jewish thinking that, you know, there's sort of like God is good and everything else is bad. And, you know, for me, the sort of the Jewish mystical concept is sort of that God just is, which means that's going to hold everything that feels good and also everything that feels bad,

but that it's kind of one and the same. So there's not really, really a distinction. So the depths of loneliness and the depths and the heights of ecstasy are in theory held by the same universe. They're held by the same God. Also, as it relates to fish, even if it's not on psychedelics, there is an experience there that unifies in a way that is quite particular to that experience, especially at MSG. I don't know if you were at MSG for their near year show, the three shows in 1999. That was the first time I'd seen them at MSG. and the building actually shakes when the everyone you know i don't know how many people

msg holds for concerts but there's you know 10 15 000 people and all of a sudden in the right groove the entire uh stadium everyone is bouncing at the same and you can feel the floor underneath you moving all of a sudden you're like hold we are a part of something. It's like you're standing at Sinai. That's what I'm feeling. You're standing at Sinai. Kind of for our generation,

for a small group of people, cult followers of fish. That's definitely what it feels like. Here's a little tidbit from your bio that I'd like you to clarify for us. It says you went to a wilderness camp. Wilderness therapeutic program. You know, the type that kids get woken up

in the middle of the night, putting handcuffs. Have you heard of those? these stories. In my situation, my parents were like, would you like to go on another outward bound? I was like, yeah. So I was sort of like, went very willingly and then got there

and they were like, give us your clothes and no talking. How old were you? I was 16. Was this, was it because of the drugs? Well, yeah. I went, I dropped out of high school. I went on fish tour. I moved to Burlington and I kind of like hitchhiked and I went to rainbow gatherings,

went on fish tour, came back, went to rehab at a place called Arms Acres in Westchester. Wait, wait, hold on a second. You wanted to go to rehab? You were done having fun? Again, I was kind of tricked. My grandmother had like $3,000 that was supposed to be given to me. And my parents were like, if you go to rehab, we'll give you that money from your grandmother. And then I was buying my own car and was already, had already sent away for my like mail order tickets for fish

for spring tour. So I was like, just part of the plan I'll go. So yeah, it was like, I think it was three weeks. It was Thanksgiving because my family came for Thanksgiving. That was a fun, a fun Thanksgiving. So did you feel like you needed to be rehabilitated from something? Or, I mean, did you feel like, oh, I have a problem? I mean, did it feel like BS?

I was pretty fucked up when I got home. I mean, I literally got mono on tour and then had it treated like it was bronchitis. Someone gave me antibiotics. and then had like just I was just really a mess like physically and mentally so I at some point called my father because I was in the hospital and just to ask for the insurance stuff and and and my mom was like you should come home and I was I came home I just got on a ticket I got on a flight I had lost my shoes at the concert before so I had no shoes. I got on the plane with no shoes and a drum.

How is that not the title of an album? The only flight that my mom could get, because she was like, you're going from here to there, you know, whatever, your caravan or whatever, can drop you off at this airport and there's a flight, right? So the only flight she could get was a first class ticket. I had never flown first class before. And you had no shoes and a drum.

Yeah, six foot four. with dreadlocks and like a 14-inch Remo like massive jembe. No shoes, scabies, quadis. Do you know what quatties are? They're like, it's like another level of lice where the like they grow up. Yeah, and they're like literally flying around in your

mono and like was having a hard time putting words together. And like, so yeah, I came. home and I was kind of like pretty fried and pretty shook. And and I remember like the car ride home, like trying to convince my dad like what an incredible experience it had been. And my dad just be like, just be like this motherfucker is so far gone. But yeah, I went to rehab and then I tried to go back to high school for like a month. And then I went out on this wilderness trip. And then I ended up at a

place in Bend, Oregon for kind of like, you know, 18 to 22 year old young people who kind of try to figure out how to do stuff, how to function. And you were not, you, rehab didn't take. Like you didn't, you didn't feel like you wanted to be sober, correct? No, I think I was, I was pretty sober during the, okay. Yeah, I mean, for sure, I was like on that, from the wilderness trip and the year that I lived in Oregon.

So what was the wilderness thing, like it was bad? No, it was awesome. It was incredible. It's like, it was like no talking, like literally. Like you're not allowed to talk for like I was on, I was on a trip that was supposed to be three weeks long. And basically you just hike all day like in a line through the desert. And then when you get to camp, you all like each individual person sets up their own camp and is responsible for like you have. like a tarp you don't have a tent but you set up your tarp you have like flint and steel and so you make a fire

and then you have like a very limited amount of food that you have to ration you know like every week so you have like a stick block of cheese and like a one thing of salami i remember that those were like the golden things everything else was like lentils or like granola and um and basically you would you would set up your camp and in the morning you would break everything down proper way hike and you do group therapy. You know, like maybe, I think once a day. It was group therapy. What do you remember of that?

Like, did you like talking about your feelings? Yeah, I was great. My parents are like, my parents are like either their social workers. All their friends are social workers or therapists. I've been in therapy since I was like a kid. You know, so for me it was like, I know how to do this shit. I'm into rehab twice. I was like already like, you know.

And I had also had these kind of crazy experiences on, fish tour and stuff. So I could like tell everyone what their problem was and do, you know, and I knew exactly all the stuff to say. And so they, they kept me for like another trip and had me miss my sister's bar bat mitzvah. And that they wanted to shake me up a little bit. And that definitely did it. And it was a moment I remember doing Chuvra, like in a field just like, what the fuck? Just feeling like, oh, you know, bad about myself and stuff. So I don't know about all that, but all that part. But the part that I think was awesome is

I remember the first day I got there, they were like explaining how to use the flint and steel and how to set up the tarp and all that stuff. I'm like, fuck, I don't need to listen to this shit. First of all, somehow I kept my clothes. Like, everyone else had to wear these uniforms and I kept like my fish fucking clothes. I, like, wouldn't let them take my clothes.

So, like, I'm like, I'm going to go, like, meditate. Right? These fucking idiots. and I go like walk up the hill and I'm like you know trying to meditate and feeling stupid because they don't know how to meditate and like trying to think I'm you know in touch with God but I just don't even know

what the fuck that means and come down the hill like trying to act all enlightened and like spiritual and starts raining and everyone like scatters and they're like putting up their tarps and like within like a half hour people have got fires going and they're like under their tarps

and I'm fucking I have no fucking clue how to do any of this shit I'm fucking And they're like The social worker or whatever The wilderness instructor Social worker guy Just like hands me an apple

He's like doesn't say it work He hands me an apple He's like And the next day I'm like I got to figure out how to do this shit And the the kind of culmination period On these things is you do like a three day solo Where you sit basically

In one space You know like maybe 10 feet around And you don't move for three days. What if to make a fish? You got to go piss? Yeah. No, you go take a piss.

You know, but you, you know, you, you, maybe I'm exaggerating. That particular one is not 10, 10 by 10 or whatever. It's like a space. It's like an area. It's probably like the size of my office that I'm in right now. And, but you can, you make, you can make your fire. You can make your food and all that. And so I had these fat dreadlocks.

And like the sign I think to my parents and everyone that I had like, Dunchuva was like, did he shave his dreadlocks? Did he shave his dread? So I didn't shave my dreadlocks on the first one. So now this one was coming to- and I'd have to shave my fucking dreadlocks if I want to get out of the woods, basically. Wait, what, can you talk about that?

Because, like, I mean, did that represent something to your parents in a different way than what it represented for you? Well, to everyone, it was like, you know, if you have the dredge, you're like a raster or a hippie and, like, you smoke wheat. And it, like, makes you that, And, you know, in the end, I think it was like a great move for me because my whole identity was was that, you know?

I was like, had these dreads and it's like very much ego kind of thing. And it's great. It's your identity and stuff. But that was my first like lesson in like shaving, right? Like the beard was essentially the same concept for me. It's like when it becomes, it overtakes who you are. And feeling of just like now I'm just normal. I'm just a regular person.

And that was the feeling that I had. So that last solo, I mean, was one of like the greatest moments that I can remember of like contentment. It was pouring rain. I knew the rain was coming. I'd already been out in the woods now for like two months. I was like I could smell the rain in the air and I gathered my wood quickly. The rain is coming and I get the fire going and I don't want the fire to go out from the rain. So I start adding more and I make this huge.

bonfire and I take off my clothes. I'm dancing around this bonfire in the woods with my dreadlocks and I cut my dreadlocks off. I think I had a knife or they'd given me a scissors at some point when you're ready or whatever and threw them in the fire and then had my tent like perfect on the side of a hill. It was like in a cave almost and had my fire going and had made this delicious like lentils and rice with cheese that I had saved, you know, for three weeks and little pieces of meat. Like it was like, I'm like eating it and it's raining all around me and I'm warm and warm clothes. And I'm just like, dude, this is it. This is the shit.

This is what you've, you know, been looking for, whatever. So it was a very powerful experience for me, you know. Like anything, I had a mixture ups and downs. Like not everything's perfect. But there was some definitely, like, I came out of that trip. feeling empowered for sure and that I could kind of like that I could do pretty much do things you know for myself when did you become religious how long after that a few years after I would say was it did you was there a link like did you see a link from that to taking on more religious

observance no not at the time not at the time but I did feel like a connection to being Jewish because there was like a feeling that I had. Like, for example, when I came back and I was living in this little town, which is not so little anymore, Bend, Oregon, I don't know if you've ever been there. And there was like an open mic coffee shop, open mic night that people would go. And I had met a kid in town, like a rasta from town, you know, who played guitar. And we became really good friends. and we would go there and people started coming to see us,

so they gave us our own night. And so I remember, and I had video footage of this, like, we drank mushroom tea. So this was the second year that I was there. The first year I was over, not the second year. And like I wrapped myself in like all of these like blankets and like an Israeli flag. and then I had like sage burning and we would like walk through the audience like blowing sage on everyone

like to the sound of cappuccino fucking machines and like it's like this ridiculous and I get up on the stage of this little coffee shop and I just start asking who's Jewish how'd that go over like as if I was like a lobavitur

so I had never even met a labavitur before I didn't know any of them. I'm like, who's Jewish? And there's like one, like, he's like raising his hand and this other girl. And I make them come to the stage and hold the Israeli flag on stage, like, while I perform. And then we have this, like, random group of, like, some, like, 60-year-old, like, blind rasta, white rasta from, like, who plays in his garage, like, playing drums. And, like, like, just the most random group of. people up there and then I'll just start singing like Hebrew prayers that I remember from

you know reconstructionist Hebrew school and you know that was like the early inception or the early you know version of modusia so I always kind of had this Jewish thing but uh yeah I can eventually I came back to to New York got like again like kind of like got sober or like stop fucking around got a job at borders I started out in the coffee shop and I moved to the music department, which was a big deal for me. And I would get these matching outfits, I remember. I would wear like this red t-shirt with like a vest over it and it would match like my red kicks.

And I would go to the gym and I would lift weights or, you know, I had a, my parents had a border collie that was like uncontrollable. And I would take it out and like throw the frisbee to it and run around in the woods with it. It was a nice sober time in my life. You know, I saved money. I bought a little PA system and like a delay pedal. And I started messing around with like beatboxing and writing and singing and playing drums a little bit. And I was like living at home.

And then I went to college. I went to the new school. Eugene Lang College. It was kind of a cool place. When did you sort of discover reggae music and sort of start resonating with that specific kind of message. And also, you know, there's so much resonance with notions of Israel and Moses and sort of, you know, there's a lot of overlap kind of mystically and spiritually between, you know, a lot of reggae culture and Jewish culture. Was that a connection point for you? Or was it,

was it really the music? No, that was definitely a connection point for me. Even from going back to being 16 and being in Israel. And just like, like you said, like all of the imagery of the Old Testament and the whole lineage of Solomon and King David and the Lion of Judah. And like all of even like Bob Marley's songs like, you know, are direct quotes from Tehilim from the Psalms, you know, stone that the builder refused will become the head cornerstone, not only just the themes, but actually it's that like old English, like biblical, you know, it's direct quotes from it. And, you know, when it was said in reggae music or by Bob or whatever, it was like, oh, yeah, like, this is what this is what this means. You know, this is, this is, this is, so reggae music, when I started listening to reggae music was like the point for me where I was like, we, they're definitely taking something from the Old Testament from Judaism.

That's something that I'm connected to in some way. And I need to like explore more what that is, you know, what it means. Did it ever occur to you that, I mean, this. I'm asking this because I know other people ask it. I don't have a problem with it. Did it ever occur to you? Was there ever a feeling of like, oh,

white people shouldn't make reggae music or white people shouldn't be part of this, but Jews can? Like, how did that work for you? Well, I don't kind of believe that when it comes to music. I kind of feel like music is like a different kind of thing. And it somehow speaks to people souls and people are able to create it. And you see that like, everything, right? You'll see like Elvis impersonators from Japan or you'll see,

you're like nail it, right? You'll see like all kinds of stuff, right? I mean, you see people doing things from one culture that have never been to the place where that the culture that created that style, right? Why? Because music, because it's music. It, like, it goes beyond. And if you have a hush and you are a person who knows music or have a talent, you're able to do it. And it's because it speaks to you in the deepest way. And that's why you can put it out there. Now, of course, there's like imitators and people who would try.

But for me, it was always like very much like it touched my soul. And that was how I kind of like regurgitated it. Now what you're saying about the Jewish thing, yes. I immediately said like anyone who's going to come at me for this is ignorant. Because I actually have like partial ownership on this shit. Like, they took our, our thing, right? And made, like, dope-ass music out of it and culture and all of that. Like, we have shitty-ass music.

And, like, you know, that's how things work in our society, in our world. There's this intermingling of different things. And then, like, people come up with dope shit. And so, and then you have, you know, some kid from the suburbs listening to it. And it's like, whoa, this is teaching me about my own culture. So I always had, like, a respect. for it, but an understanding that some aspect of it originates with my people. And that gives me license to it. And one time, like a very specific, perfect example of this. I'm in, like,

Amherst, Massachusetts. I'm up there for, there's a Shabbat up there. We go up for Pesach or something. And there's some Lubavitras that live up there. They're trying to start a community. Some of these guys become, like, my close, close friends. But at the time, they take me out to a a bar and one of the guys is like, you know, there's this like Rasta bar. And it's all Rastas. It's not, it's, it's all rosters from the Caribbean, from Jamaica or Trinidad or Barbados or wherever. And there's a band playing and I ask if I can get up and sing with them. And I get up and I perform like a thing. This is all kind of pre-Modas Yahoo. It's kind of like before Jimmy Kimmel. I don't think I have an album out or anything yet. And most like 80% of the people,

and there are like, what the fuck? There has a blown. They're like, this is amazing. This Husid, like, knows enough about our culture to be able to do the thing that we do and do it good, right? And then this one chick is like flipping out, you know? What does he know about Haile Selassi and this, that, and the other thing? Finally, this old Rasta walks out with like a cane,

like I'm dreds down to the floor, white beard, you know? And he's like, sister, he's like, She's like, what does he know from Salasi? She's like, he knows from King David. That's a mic drop. Boom. And she shut up. Okay, so I really love, I feel like of every person we've ever had on this podcast,

I think that you are the height of intersectionality and like cross phenomenal. identities because I'm so glad that you've taken us on this journey because when when we get to this part of your life that then became, you know, sort of this hinge point for notoriety, it was attached to religious Judaism. Like that's how a lot of people, like some people didn't know anything about Jews until they heard Matisiyahu. I mean, even just like saying the words, like, when I found out that there was someone with the name Matisjahou that was like marketed and that's his name, I was like, this has to be a phenomenal story. I assume that you were raised religious. You know, I assume we call them FFBs. But obviously your story, you've shared with us sort of what this journey is. I'm curious what the point was where you said, I'm going to take on a life that has prescriptions. that has time-bound commitments, that is connected to, you know, a very ancient kind of form.

I mean, you know, there's several hundreds of years that Lubavich, you know, kind of that sort of movement, which is really based on tremendous joy singing music, you know, frailichkite, like happiness and that sort of celebration. But what was that moment or series of moments where you decided to sort of, you know, hitch your wagon to religious life? Okay, so I was in at the new school. I was in college. I started meeting a lot of musicians because I lived with a girl named Sarah Bergman from L.A., whose father was a canter. And she found me on like the second day of school after we had been there for a semester and was like me and my Persian friend G. from L.A.

and our friend Olive need like a dude in the house. And so we want you. This is like at the orientation or whatever. So I ended up like moving into the living room of this apartment on 31st and Lex. And she was dating the guitar player John Lee, who was like the superstar guitar player at the new school. Everybody was sweating him really, really hard. and I started hanging out and trying to get on stage with all the musicians.

They were like having little gigs and stuff. And so I would do that. And I would like perform from time to time, open mics or at some clubs. I was in school. I wasn't really happy in school. I didn't like, there were certain classes that were really important. And then other ones where I felt like really isolated. And I just kept to myself.

And again, I kind of came across. this feeling of this loneliness in New York City, 20 years old or so. And I was working in the Bronx doing percussion with kids. And I was living in Bushwick and the train ride from Bushwick to 160 to the Yankee Stadium was like insane. So I would listen to music the whole time and I would write. And it was like a very like inward kind of time for me. I would, I couldn't put a band together. And so I would go to like open mic nights where I would sign up on a raffle at like New Yoreican Poets Cafe. And you might get called. You might not get called. You have to sit there like the entire night, listen to everybody else. I was trying to figure out like how to do it, you know.

And I kind of felt like hopeless, I guess. Like it wasn't how is this going to happen? Like I know I'm telling at that point also like because I didn't have a band like in Oregon, I had a band and we were performing in clubs and colleges and stuff. And I was like 18 and it was like awesome. And now I'm in New York and there's no band. So I started getting just instrumental tapes of hip-hop music on Canal Street. And it was like the Dr. Dre album I'd just come out. It was just like a beautiful time in hip-hop, lyricist lounge and most deaf and Talib Kuali.

And just like really cool things happening. And I was just, I was listening to early sales. Zizla and Capleton and Bujubantan. It's like an era of dance hall music that these artists did not put out great records for long periods of time. They put out a lot of records, but there was a specific time period where they put out gold. And it was right when I was like really listening. And I would like absorb those records. And they're talking about Zion and they're talking about Jewish things.

And it's rap music, but it's reggae music. It was like really, really hitting me hard. And then I was listening to like instrumental hip-hop albums. And then I had this PA system I had bought from my working at borders. And I would like, I would just like smoke weed in my living room with the doors open on 31st in Lex. And I would just blast this fucking music. And I would spit into the microphone like like into all these buildings into Midtown Manhattan. And I would do that for hours and hours and hours.

I would skip class and that's what I would do. I would go to work. You know, I go to a class, whatever. So that's really when I like craft, when my craft became real. Like that's when I really got good. And then at that point after that, whenever I would do what I did, people would be like, give this motherfucker, whoever signs this dude is going to make money. Like people knew, like, I would do what I do.

I would go to like the Lions den. there'd be like a reggae band playing I would be like do you guys can you play no woman no cry can I get up? Yeah I would sing a verse of no woman no cry and then I would just spit like dance hall flames

and everyone there would be like what the fuck is that and I would wherever I did it I did it in Mount Vernon on 3rd Street like in the projects for like an arts festival that I opened for Dougie Fresh and it was the same thing

my friend who was a sick ass rapper started rapping a white boy and they didn't get it. People started fucking booing and shit. And then I started singing some reggae thing and everyone just fucking flipped out, you know, thousands and thousands of like, you know, in the hood. Like, so it was like very obvious at that point that I knew that that like I had something. And then I was like, but I don't know how to get it. I don't know how to how to put it out there. Like I don't I don't even know like a friend of mine got spotted in the street and he went a casting and he ended up in a Levi's commercial. So I went to meet with this casting agent,

Jennifer Vendetti, who now is like a big cheese. She's like the casting agent for Euphoria. But at the time, she was just finding people in the street. She put me in a couple commercials. And you're still not religious at this point. No, no, not religious. I went to Detroit and I did like the auto show in Detroit where I like sang for like a month. And like I ended up, I remember like I had to fill in because I must have started getting a little bit into it. And I remember I never put them on, but I brought them with me. And then I came back. And then I got hit by a car.

I had a motorcycle. And I got hit by a car in the Bronx, a hit and run when I was leaving the school. And then I started like feeling this feeling of like, I don't know. I know I'm supposed to do something really special and I have no fucking clue how I'm going to do it and I started just praying. I started like going up to, I was like, okay, I'm going to quit smoking weed, you know, whatever, and I'm going to like pray to God

and I would go up on the school roof of the new school and I would fucking put a talus on that my grandfather gave me and pull out a prayer book and I would just start dobbening, like praying in Hebrew, even though I didn't know what the words meant. And eventually I was just started down this journey of like, I'm going to like really explore. Like I felt really alone. And I was like, I feel like the only thing that can can like soothe me is somehow for some reason or whatever I call it God. You know, it's like God will be the thing, you know.

And that's what will give me like the success. That's what will give me like somehow God is going to do this for me. and I'm going to like make a deal with him. I'm going to like, you know, it's like old school, like basic shit. Like I'm going to like not smoke weed and I'm going to be like really disciplined and I'm going to I'm going to like serve him. Yeah. And then I kind of like then I went on my journey.

I found Kaabab, shul, and then I found Khabad. And then I eventually went to Yeshiva and did the whole, drank the whole juice and got like, you know, there was a period of time where it's like very like this is a decision I have to make. You know, it's like either I'm by you don't just do it, you know. You might learn about it or like read books. But when you start like putting in the time, you're like, why am I doing this? This doesn't make sense. This doesn't make me happy.

So you're like, I either have to like make a decision, you know, either I believe this or I don't believe it. And that period of time where I'm sure you relate to this mind is like crushing. It's like when you're like, is this true? Is this not true? and in-between stage. So at some point, not a lot of people can hang out

in that in-between space. And so you're just like, I was just like, fuck it. I'm going to go for it. I'm going to go for it. I'm going to go for it all. I'm going to be guided.

I'm going to just destroy my ego. And if God wants me to do music and that's what I'm supposed to do, then he's going to know, but God is going to know that I'm serious about this shit. I mean, talk about like Minha Meizar, like literally from the Narrows calling out. And what's fascinating is you already had this tremendous talent.

And I mean, that is a place I wish I could have seen. Like, I wish I could have seen you in those early days because I can imagine this figure of you, you know, representing a force of music that people had not seen. seen it in this way. They hadn't seen it the way you did it. So the fact that that then was brought through also, like through a religious path, meaning like everything just like, I mean, at least from my perspective, like everything clicked into place. And what's fascinating and I think what's so powerful, especially for people like me who, you know, there's a lot of things about any religious practice, but in particular about Jewish practice and about Orthodox practice. There's a lot of that that's man-made. It is. It's man-made. It's man-made. It's not woman-made. It's

man-made. And there's a lot of it that creates a really, really important structure. And for people who fit in that structure, that's great. But the truth, like the MS of being connected to something bigger than yourself, of having a notion of salvation, that is what you communicated musically. And that to me is so incredibly powerful because no, like I said, people who never heard of Orthodox Jew were hearing this message. Like, it's incredibly powerful. And I wonder if you can talk a little bit about what that expectation felt like, like what that, what that, what that accountability felt like, because that has to be, I mean, people lost their minds when you shaved your beard. Like people lost their

blessed minds because we had built up, you know, collectively we had built up who Matisahu was, what he meant, what he had to mean, it had to be eternal, it had to be forever. I know you had to feel that. And you can shave your beard for whatever

reason you want, but I am curious if that unfolding was because of the pressure. Yeah, listen, I got a little bit, as they say in Philly, I got a little bit jaded. I got a little bit cynical. I had some experiences that showed me, like, some things that really were disturbing,

bothered me, left me feeling even more alone. And then I did my time. I did, like, 10 years deep, deep into it, like really, really going for it. You got married young, you had kids. Like, you did, you followed the formula. Shiva for like two years. I didn't leave the basement of, like, seven to eight, Your skin gets so pasty.

You hadn't seen the sun in years. It was so hot. Literally, literally, there was a guy named Herschel Lazaroff. Okay, listen, early on, after I had become religious already, I go to Yeshiva. I'm studying all day. No one knows that I do music or anything like that. And one guy comes to the yeshiva who had seen me like do something in Manhattan somewhere. And he's like, this fucking guy is here.

And he's like, you have to do it for them. You have to do it for them. And like, it's, we're in the cat skills, because the whole yeshiva goes to the cat skills, right? So it's like Friday night, the rabbis are all there. It's Parshis Pinchas. It's like everyone is in a zealous mood. And like, freaking, like, you know,

we all, it's the one time that we like get a chance to like really like let it out. Everyone's drinking Friday night. And even the rabbis have their guards down. Their families are there, everyone. And I get up on the fucking table and I do my stick. Like I do the thing. And like,

they're all believers after that. The entire yeshiva and the most hardcore rabbis, I'm like, oh, not this Yahoo. The guy who makes money for the yeshiva, this guy, Yaakov, he's like, we're doing an alumni event. We love you to perform. So it's all the old school balchuvas from the 60s and 70s, right? The hippies that became balchuvas during that era, right?

They're just a real cast of characters. Charlie Buttons is in the room. You know, it's like really like full on. I go to like in front of 770, there's like some Israeli guy, like homeless guy that plays the drums. And I'm like, come with me, come play the drums. I get a keyboard player and we all get there. Anyway, this guy Herschel Lazarev sees me. He's a healer.

He's a Balchouva from Baltimore who gets paid like $20,000 to go to Switzerland and heal like God knows who or whatever, you know, maybe more than $20,000. I don't know what he got. But he's freaking, he's like, my daughter is getting married tomorrow in Baltimore. I'll pay you $500 to come sing at the wedding. And I'll give you a free consultation. So he comes to my room in the yeshiva, and he does this thing with a pendulum. And I swear to God, I feel like I'm tripping.

And he's like, you are going to be famous. You're going to make a lot of money. here are the things you need to do. You need one of these bulbs that delivers sunlight. Stop. I swear to God, that's how I got on this whole trip. Listen, he's like, when you study Gamar and Yeshua,

you need to have this sunlight thing because you get no sun. You need a bicycle, and you need to ride it to Prospect Park every day. You need a therapist. I don't know who this guy is, but his name is Ephraim Rosenstein. Here's his phone number.

And you need a voice teacher. because you really don't know how to sing. Right? I did all of the things that he said. Wow. Yeah. And then when he got like really weird and he was like, you need to bring me to L.A.

There's all these wealthy people that need me. I had to get rid of him, you know? That's how these people are sometimes. But so anyway, yeah, I'm in yeshiva, and it's Tulaucha. It's Rosh Hashanah. and I go out to walk with the shofar to blow shofar for Jews in Williamsburg. And I'm in Williamsburg, and I run into Aaron Dugan, who's the guitar player I played with at the new school.

It was like close to front of mine. And anyway, I tell him that there's another gig that came up as a guy in Chabad of NYU, Doviona Korn, who wants me to play a gig. Will you play with me? and we go and we play the show and there's some kind of like camera there like there happens to be like a news thing there and somehow CNN sees that

and Steve Harvey's show sees that and Jimmy Kimmel sees Steve Harvey show and then I have like a viral video on Jimmy Kimmel it's like all this crazy stuff kind of snowballed but to get back to like the main point where you ask is like the pressure. The whole period of time I was super religious, super religious.

Like I would walk to my shows on Shabbas, like five miles. People would be like honking their horns. Like, modesty, I was on the freeway. You know what I mean? Like walking to the gig. I would stay at the Chabad houses. Did it feel holy? At some point, I felt like I knew what I was doing.

Like, this is fucking badass. This is so punk rock. This is like, you know, I'm doing it. And then like you said, it was times where it was really difficult where I was playing four nights a week and I lost my voice and now I'm supposed to have my night off but I'm staying at the khabad house and they want all of a sudden they're like a khabat house that's never had more than 20 people there and there's like 700 people and they're expecting a speech and a concert with no

instruments or microphones like that kind of thing would happen over and over again and then I was living in crown heights so everybody is like oh you know has their opinion and asking you know for everything and at some point I was just like fuck everybody, you know, like, really got pretty, like, a little bit angry and people would see me all the time. They're like, why are you so fucking angry? Like, I remember on Pesach one time, like, walking over a bridge, like walking to Shul. There's no one around. And some kid, like, 16-year-old kid, like, or modern Orthodox kid, like walking by and being like,

modest yahu. And then me just being like, hey, what's up? And then him just thinking, what? Every time I see you're so fucking, you look so angry or upset or sad, you know? So I was having a hard time. There's no question that I was struggling. And in terms of the pressure, though, it's like, I don't feel, I don't think I felt like too much of a pressure because I always kind of had this little bit rebellious sort of side

to myself, kind of like that I'm going to do my thing. And I had like one person who was really, really special for me. And he really helped me kind of like feel like strength. in what I was doing, you know, and help also, like, expand me. Like, let's learn also Braslav Chasidas. And then let's learn, like, some psychology. And then let's learn, like, get some contacts for, like, where these Rebis were. At what time, what was happening around them socially, what was happening politically,

what was happening to the Jews, you know? And let's kind of, like, take all this and break it down a little bit and take it, like, out of this, like, thing that, like, you don't question it, you know, just that's really, break it all apart. And in the process, I found great songwriting, lyrics, and also some real strength to, like, just do my thing. You know? This guy happened to be like a guy who was outlawed.

Like he couldn't, like, he secretly was coming to Crown Heights from Hebron every month. And he would see people in a basement, you know, abused people, Balchuvas, who were lost, like myself, like, like all kinds of people. And he, like, saved a lot of our lives. And, like, no, a lot of people don't know about him. He's kind of like this very, he's not like the type of person, like, who would ever, like, put himself out there, you know? So he's missing, like, fingers because he was, like, lost all his fingers.

They were, like, shot at him. Hebron, like, point blank range. Like, he's, like, a Russian, you know, who, like, had to, like, sleep in, like, synagogues and, like, hide out from communists. and then he also was like a badass Israeli and like a super dope psychotherapist and then super humble

like no one knows who he is under the radar. Now he was kind of a big part of the reason why stayed religious because he's religious so he was kind of like my kind of like teacher so you know he

was somehow he was super rebellious intense Jewish religious and And I was like, if he's, if he can do it, then, then, then I can. But I remember speaking to him one time in Charleston, South Carolina. He would come visit me sometimes, like on tour.

And we would do like meditations and we would learn Kabbalah and we'd like learn together. Like, give me this inspiration. Like, it was awesome. And that Shabbas, I remember like we were like walking around Charleston. It was early. It was like maybe 2009 or 10. I don't know. And I remember being like, I have this like dream.

you know, of being free, shaming my beard, of getting divorced, of like, you know, I'm in a relationship with someone who I shouldn't be. There's like no two ways about it. I'm my worst person when I'm around her, you know, and the religion is just like, I just like, I feel stuck in it. I don't, I don't feel like I really am moving in it. I don't feel like the same inspiration that I did. I was years before I shaved. So this was like a long period of time that I really like, I didn't just wake up one day and shave. It was like a long period of like unraveling.

And then it was like a one, then it was a one day. It was like a, it was like I woke up that morning. And I was like, this is my face. I own this face. No one else does. If I want to shave, I can fucking shave. And I did. I went into, I cried, I bawled my eyes out.

like Puerto Rican chicken super cuts is like, shaming me. She's like, are you sure? I'm like, yep, I can do it. Can you talk a little bit about your connection to God? Because, you know, I always say if people want to, you know, hate on religion, like hate on religion, don't hate on God. Like, you know, God is still going to exist whether you, you know, late's fell in or don't or, you know, keep kosher or don't.

what was your connection at that point? Did you still feel connected to that sort of larger entity? Or did it all feel like it was swallowed up by all of the prescriptions of religious Judaism? I really tried to make it work for a while and find my way within it and really dig hard. Yom Kippur and Hebron are on a mountaintop, like, you know, in Shchem, like, you know,

saying the whole book of Tehilim, like, you know, Shabbas Mavar. walking to mikvahs, you know, miles away. Like, I mean, like, really studying and learning and then figuring out how was it that I, that I take this, this information the best way. And I started doing these, like, walking meditations where I would chazer chasidus. I became, like, addicted to chasidus. I really, like, really got into it.

And then I even had a teacher who was bringing in all kinds of other things to kind of, like, expand it. And davening, I really. For me is where it all started. I was like praying on the roof of that at the new school, you know. Prayer for me was always like a thing that felt real to me because I'm more of a heart person than a head person probably. So for me it was always like, okay, you call, like calling out to God at that time. Like how am I going to become Modis Yahweh?

And I didn't know it was Modis Yahoo, but like how am I going to become this thing that I want to be, you know? Then like pray to God for it. Like not go like learn about Judaism or go learn about like learn a bunch of Gamara. was like pray. So for me prayer was like huge. So I felt really that was the main place where I felt like closed up in chabad was the whole thing in chabad is like bitel and like self-nullification. So even the concept of like feelings and like feeling anything is like always sort of very cynical. Like if you're feeling it, you're feeling yourself. It's not really God. So the whole concept of prayer and chabed is like very very whacked out. Even though it didn't

start that way. Like the Alterebe, they used to put him in a padded room because he would knock himself out. He's the first Chabad Rebbe. So it became that way. And basically I started like riding my bike when I was, I was recording with David. Well, one Tishre in Jerusalem, I was like walking my baby somewhere. I'd done on some Yomtif. And I heard this like sound. I heard this like singing or screaming. I didn't know what it was. I followed it. It was a Carl Linershul. And they scream. They scream at God, you know, at the top of their lungs. Like, they know how to scream, like, like, like, heavy metal singers, you know, like, they really, like, know what they're doing. And nothing is like, nothing is like a joint, like song, but everything is in unison. Somehow they're all in the same key. And they're all in their separate melodies. And it's chaos. And they're all having, like, their separate experience with God. And it's all very intense,

like almost like a war like they're fighting and everyone is doing it together in a building at at like 98% like full fucking drive so I was like this is for me and I started domining there and then when I came back to New York I started searching for shules that were people doving like that and I found these like amazing gem places like like these special places in New York you know like one of these places where I ended up, there was like in Williamsburg, a mikfa with this old rabbit who passed away, blue eyes, white hair, white beard, just this, and he would go to this mikfa, and then he would go upstairs, and I think his grandson would lead to davening, and the grandson was like such a chassad. He would be up from Tikon-Khatsois, like David Hamelich used to

wake up at midnight and play songs for Hashem all night long, till six o'clock. 7 o'clock in the morning, then he would start his day. This guy would be up all night learning. And then by the time his grandfather came up to the shul, it was this big, beautiful old shul, nothing like pretty, like nothing like fancy, but just beautiful. He would lead to daveni. And there would be barely a minion there.

There would be like, I oftentimes would make the minion. And clock out what time the rabbit would, like, would dip in the mikfa, and I would show up right after him. and I would go in the mikfoa right after him. Then I would go upstairs, and I would doving with these guys in the back because I didn't look like them and I didn't. And that's where I like kind of learned how to dovin in this place. Then I would ride my bicycle to Ganservort Street in the Meatpacking district

and sit with David Kahn for like eight hours, you know, like working on music. And then ride my bicycle home at the end of the night at like, you know, 11, 12 o'clock at night from Manhattan to Crown Heights. And that was like my, I was like on a, you know, really on a, like, a thing, you know. That was like a, that was like a Nevada, you know, like a real, like serious thing. But, yeah, I mean, in terms of the religion, it just, at some point I just felt like, I don't know what the main thing that kind of made me feel it wasn't real was. Something about it made me feel that it's manmade.

It's not. It's not really God. And then I started thinking, like, what, what, like, who cares so much? Like, you know, like, like some, not like some Nietzsche, like God is dead, but more like some like, some like, God is so pestered probably by all of us. Like, you know, like people shooting in his name, Allah Akbar, right? And people doing like all kinds of like fucked up shit in his name. Like God probably just all he wants. is to be left the fuck alone.

And I'm like, that's the biggest, most religious, like, service I could do to God is, like, stop, like, pretending that, like, I'm doing something for him or he's doing something for me and just leave him the fuck alone because, I don't know. But not with everything that's going on now is, like, it's like something feels divine. Like, there's, if you think about it, like, the only way out of this is, like, some divine intervention. And then you start thinking about the Jewish people in our history

and you're like there was divine intervention. There had to be whatever that looks like. I don't know what that means exactly. And so now I'm on some god shit again. Yeah, that's what I was going to ask because obviously

your music has been phenomenal, like really throughout. I mean, I think there's so many different flavors to it, but there's still a real, you know, a real sense of, you know, an identity that understands something bigger than the human experience. Like, even if you're not singing, you know, things from Psalms and things from the Torah, like, there's still a really strong, you know, kind of spiritual pull that I feel, you know, with your music even, you know, in this

phase. Yeah. And I will say, like, not so long ago, I was taking a lot of psychedelics before for concerts, like not microwing. It was pre-microing. Before anyone knew anything, a mic wing. To me, it was microing. It was like one hit of acid. It's like a micro, not two hits of acid. And I started doing things, like going to my therapist,

going to my voice lesson, going to the recording studio, like on a hit an acid. And then like going to play shows, you know. And it was like, super everything was tied up with God for me at that point you know and that was like 2014 2013 2013 around that time so it's not like I just like like it wasn't like I became irreligious and then just kind of like stop thinking about God I actually went the opposite way I became like more and more like everything is about God and like now that I don't have these

rules and everything and I'm free like I can't I can go like all the way with this. And I felt like I really, really like climbed up the mountain and I put out this album called Ikeda. And then on the other side of that mountain, I didn't know how to like, how to take it all in. So I kind of like rolled down the mountain on the other side. You know what I'm saying? And then where I ended up is in a place where I felt that way, you know.

So it wasn't just like, I didn't go straight from religion to that. Well, and also that was, you know, that was almost 10 years ago now, right? Like your path has led you so many other places. You know, you've become a father again several times, you know. You have a new identity in that sense as also like this age of dad. Because also, you know, having kids young is like you're a child, yourself. I mean, I still feel like I'm a child. Can you tell us about

your new album? It's called Hold the Fire. It's an EP with five songs on it, but I recorded 40 songs. I'm going to be releasing them all. You recorded 40 songs? What? Jonathan, we now have our Spotify playlist for 2024.

I recorded 40 songs last year between like maybe February and August. What's that like? How do you record 40 songs? That's amazing. Well, the song, the whole album is called Hold the Fire, which is based on a dream that I had, which is a real dream that I had. I was, and I remembered it. I don't know how. But I woke up, I mean, I was dreaming.

I was in a synagogue. And I say Morocco, but I have no idea. Some Sephardic synagogue somewhere in the Middle East, Jews used to exist that don't exist anymore because we were forced out and pushed out. But in the old days, there were Jews that, you know, lived with Arabs. And there were different religions. And there was Muslim. There was Jews. You know, they lived together.

I was in a synagogue. And I was davening. And then I was playing with this, like, baby tiger. And then the mom started shooting fire out of her eyes. And I was, like, engulfed in flames. And I was, like, on fire. And then I, like, all of a sudden, realize I'm, like, not feeling any pain. and I'm not burning.

And I look at my hand and my hand is made out of water. So then like when I woke up, I think of like the burning bush immediately. Moshe's drawn from the water. He's a humble person. He is like the element of water, Moshe. Even the motion, it sounds like water. It's like smooth. So for me, this is like idea of the burning bush, which I remember learning a couple.

concept that like what is a fire that doesn't consume itself. And I thought of like all the artists and even myself as I was in my 30s of like this fire like pushing you're pushing you're pushing and at some point you can either like burn out like you know go up in flames or you kind of like take the other the other route and you just kind of like mellow out and just become kind of like drown. And so to me, the idea is like moving forward as an artist as in your 40s and moving even to your 50s, maybe.

60s is like, hold the fire. How do you hold the fire? You know, you have to have this combination, an aspect of motion and also, you know, the fire. So how do you do that? And so like even now what I'm singing songs like live like a warrior or, Lord raised me up. I'm like all these metaphors, these physical metaphors that were about spiritual

things that came from this like very Jewish place inside me. They like resonate a hundred percent. So it's kind of like a trippy thing for me. That's so it's so awesome. And you know, I have to say like I don't, I hope this isn't, it doesn't make you uncomfortable. The way that that I feel about your most kind of deeply spiritually motivated music. It's the way that I feel when I learn Torah that feels timeless. And I'm not saying that you are, I mean, I believe we are all, you know, divine expressions. And you happen to have a particularly exceptional instrument with which to sing and sing God's praises. But the notion, and I think that's what is already so powerful about the songs that I've been able to hear from this new album, when you're singing about the elements, you know, when you're singing about

the way that you do, about fire, you know, and about water and about all these, like, those are, those are eternal concepts. And that's how I feel like my favorite song is Time of Your Song. Like, it feels like Torah to me, because it's all of those themes kind of infused. And I just, we've been so impressed already with what we've gotten to hear. And I hope everybody will check it out. Also, you're touring with this album, correct? Yeah, I'm playing 34 cities. What's the Gamitri of 34? I know 32 is live.

I don't know. It's hard. 32 is hard. I don't know what 34 is, but I'll find it. I'm playing 34 cities. And, yeah. Oh. What's, oh.

Oh. Oh. Oh. You want to know? I don't know. What is it? I think you do. To flow in waves.

34. 34. To flow in waves. Olive Gimil Ahmed. I mean, other things also, but that is one of them. Olive Gim al-Lamad. To roll like water, to flow in waves, to well like the wellings and reservoirs of dew.

It's pretty fucking awesome. I love Judaism. Same. Right? Same. That's what I love about it, that part. Yeah. It's another dimension to everything.

Absolutely. Well, there's a lot of dimensions to you. Matisjahou, it has been such a pleasure to get to sit and hear your Torah, as it were. Where can people find out all things, Matisjahou? Matisjahou on Instagram, I think. Awesome. And also, we wish you only good things. I knew your kids, your oldest, when they were little.

they are now grown. Your older one also is a musician, this blew my mind. You play together. What is that like? I just saw Levy when I was in Israel. He performed in Tel Aviv at some kind of like breaking artists thing with like five other artists. And he crushed it.

I bawled the whole time. I was like trying to keep it inside because his last, he did one at SOBs in New York. And I kind of helped them with it, you know, like, get ready for it and he put a lot of energy into it. And then the sound guy was out to lunch. And he, like, left the building. It was, like, outside smoking a cigarette.

And I, like, lost it. I lost it. And for 45 minutes, I, like, I did, like, the dad thing. And I was, like, I, like, ranted. And then I, like, with a microphone on stage. And then I, like, I, like, adjusted, like, volume knobs until it was. And so, at this show

it was very special for me because I was just like I'm not going to do that ever again later let me just sit in the back and I just sat in the back and I just sat in the back and fucking cried the whole time

like you did like a 35 minute set where he sang every note talked to the audience authentically on the stage had a great band like all of the things

that I was just like he had his boys there singing the choruses to every song. So it felt like it's a hit, you know. I was just like, it's this very special moment in my life. Yeah. And like, you think as a parent, like, oh, if my kid, like, wins a Grammy or if he does this. I was like, I'm done.

I'm like, I'm good. This is all I needed. Well, and you have, and you have other little ones. So we were very eager to see what they do. How old are your youngest? Also, his younger brother, dove. there. Uh-huh.

Don't sleep on him. Because he just, he's releasing his first song on the 31st and coming on tour with me. Oh my gosh. Wow. He'll be performing every night and he is a bad ass. Wow. He's so dope. So I'm really looking forward to sharing him with the world as well.

And how old were your little ones? And then I have Monachon, who's, they tried to put him in movies. you know, but my ex-wife, you know, she didn't go for it. They wanted him to be in, like, multiple movies. Like, this kid is, like, also, like, super special kid. And then, but he's just, you know, going to school, Chabad, kind of fly, and just be, like, having his bar mitzvah soon. And just, like, he's, like, he's the one, though.

I wanted to name him freedom, but he was born on the Reb's birthday. So I had to name him a Manoamando, born on the Rebiz's birthday. heard this. It's like no question. And then I have my daughter, Sasha. She's nine. She's in Bend, Oregon, where I used to live, remember. And she's a super special girl. She's a fighter, correct? Yeah, she had heart issues and heart surgeries. And she's like the dopest chick ever. Punk rock, like, badass. She don't, she's dope. And then there's my, there's my babies, you know. Estee River

and Judah Mac and Judah Mac Miller Judah Mac Miller let's go that's awesome I was wondering if we'd get a Maccabee themed name since you are Matissejahoo

so I guess it took a minute yeah the last number six I think that's the last okay well we'll be standing by just in case really thank you so much we wish you only good things

withhold the fire with touring and just on a personal note thank you so much for everything you've given to our community through every phase of your career. So thank you. What you didn't hear

as he was signing off and working with Valerie to get his audio footage to her or his audio recording was that he says, I love talking to her. I want her to be my therapist. He's done a lot of interviews.

I've read a lot of interviews, but I have to say, I think this was my favorite Montessiat. interview. He said something like this was one of his favorite interviews. Yeah, it was really, really special to get to talk to him. You know, I wasn't sure how open he'd be to, you know, to being asked pointed questions about things that were very controversial.

And there's a tremendous amount of pressure on him. And, you know, I know, because I was, you know, part of that community who watched him come up and we were so proud of him for being so open about his love of God. and his love for, you know, traditional Judaism, I thought he really threaded that needle so nicely to kind of talk about what worked for him, what didn't work for him, and how that doesn't have to mean

that that's the end of your relationship with God. If you shift your observance, in many ways it can mean the end of a certain portion of your life and your community. But I think he, you know, he did a really good job walking us through sort of what that journey has been like. He reminds me a lot of, you know, the guys that I grew up with in Toronto who were musicians.

He has a far more intense relationship to religion and to spirituality than I think a lot of them did, or at least that they expressed to me. But just interesting that the New York guy of that age and the Toronto guy of that age and that generation, exploring that type of music, trying to find their way as musicians, has so much overlap. I'm curious if any of our Toronto listeners, I know we have some, recognize his story and their friends who went on tour. So fascinating. And also just that image. I mean, he's so expressive. He's so, you know, he's so articulate in the way that musicians can be. You know, he's such a lyricist, even just how he speaks, and just that image of him, how he was describing, like,

cutting his dreadlocks off and burning them in the fire. I mean, it's so, I mean, he's got something with fire. It keeps coming back. When he was talking about owning his face and when the beard becomes, you know, more than the personality, you know, it becomes a thing outside of himself. I'm like, do I have to cut my beard off? Has it gone too long? I thought that was really interesting you know, because when when you think about not only religious observance or people who are, you know, tied to a religious life, but even when you think about fashion and how people dress and what people want to appear like and what kind of clothes we wear and what trends we take on so that we look like that punk rock kid or we look like that kid, you know, I wonder like there's something to religious life where there are essentially uniforms that removes, a lot of those gestures. I mean, that's one of the reasons that in religious communities,

men and women in Judaism have kind of uniforms that they wear. There's often restrictions on the colors that you wear and the styles that you wear. And the notion is not just like, oh, let's live like it's the 1800s, which for some people, that might be the appeal. But I thought that was really interesting

that he said that because there is this notion of like how much of what we present is ego. How much of what we show is what we want other people to think of us. or we want them to think, like, oh, she's that person who wears Doc Martins, right? Or he's that person who shaved his head. You know, how much of what we do is bound up in that. And when you meet people who as an intention are pretty kind of plain wrap,

you kind of see that when you strip that away, what's left is who actually is that person? What do they stand for? What do they care about? What do they speak for? There's something actually about, though, that uniform that also has an identity to it that if you're wearing that clothing limited in that way, you're now actually excluded from mainstream society, and you're only associated with that other culture.

So in a way that like, oh, I'm not going to have ego because I'm not going to wear the Doc Martins or I'm not going to wear the Nikes and I'm only going to wear these plain clothing actually has the opposite effect is what I heard him say is like, oh, I don't only want to be this person who is religious or highly observant and that separates me i mean i have a little tiny tiny bit of this like i put on i bought a lot of great t-shirts so i don't have to make any decisions that i just

wear great t-shirts um it's not the same but i think there is you know in his adoption of um religious the religious outfit and the accessories that go with that i heard him say that he was sort of losing his identity in that. Yeah, I mean, I think, I think that touches on, you know, some of the most basic questions we have about sort of who we are, what do we represent ourselves as. You know, I often sort of, you know, let myself fantasize about like, what was it like to live 10,000 years ago, you know, when there weren't so many choices. There wasn't so much about, you know, I don't know, what kind of phone do you have? What are you wearing? What do you look like? I mean, there was a lot of other problems, like how not to get eaten by wild animals,

how to give birth without being killed in the forest. But, you know. I mean, you taking yourself with exactly who you are right now, putting yourself 10,000 years ago, what would be in your head to replace all the song lyrics that you have now? I don't know. I don't know. Would it be quiet in there? I think you would know all the bird song.

You would, like, be able to mimic every type of bird. that has ever crossed your path instead of every song lyric that ever crossed your path. Also, what did you think about this whole idea of leaving God alone? He has an excerpt in one of his interviews that he talks about how singing is praising God and that what I loved was this idea that God has done all this hard work and sometimes the world is in this chaos and is all messed up and he's like telling God that God has done a great job. But then in this, he was talking about sort of leaving God alone as the greatest thing you could do. So the quote that you're talking about, he said, with my music, the words come together and I feel like I'm telling God something about himself.

I feel like he needs to be told he's good. Imagine if you created something that became so messed up, you'd feel crushed because you hoped it would be only good. I feel as though God needs to be reminded that he did something great. I have this idea that God's trying to learn more about himself through this world and through us. So there is a, you know, there's a, there's a tradition that goes back centuries and centuries that, you know, the creation of this universe was, you know, kind of the way that something bigger than us was trying to have a relationship with us and that we are in, you know, a loving partnership. And that's sort of where a lot of that imagery of like God as a parent or God as a father or a mother that, you know, we're in partnership almost like we're, you know, children. of this. And when you see the things that because of free will, humans do, it can feel like a rift in

that relationship. And so there is this sort of mystical notion that that's what good deeds are. That's what, when you hear people talk about mitz vote, that that's what good deeds are. There are ways that we try and like add some of that light back to a world that often has a lot of darkness. So I think that is sort of that idea of what he said is that that notion of leaving God alone is, you know, we try and do so many things to repair, but, you know, in the world of humanity and darkness, there's a lot that's hard to repair. And so there is a notion of, I think,

that he was indicating of kind of like, stop trying so hard to show how good we are or just stop trying so hard to prove that we can make up for something. A lot is done in the name of God on every side of every conflict. You know, wars are fought in the name of God. and that's not, you know, I don't think what God intended.

I am going to quote from my favorite Matsuz Yahoo song because it touches on a lot of the things that we talked about. The world is moving to the song I hear, who's that singing, wind is rushing in my ear. Mind gushing memories almost lost everything. Felony and fellows running in my dream. We were in the van where the hits were driving. Saw myself in the highlands at age 13.

and I'm asking questions to the present day me, moving backwards down the hill, see we were posting. Moonlight illuminate my night and my days sun ray make the people say, and a vision something's missing so they're screaming out loud, keep my feet on the ground and my head in the clouds. I'm the arrow, you're my bow, shoot me forth and I will go. And I know and I go, and I go get up and go. Make me feel it's for real.

Tell me what you know. Love it. I love it. I love it, love it. And I always thought he was singing about his journey. And after today, I'm pretty certain. Keep your feet on the ground and your head in the clouds from our breakdown to the one we hope you never have.

We'll see you next time. It's my and Bialyx breakdown. She's going to break it down for you. She's got a neuroscience PhD or two. One fiction. And now she's going to break down and break it down.