Judith Gennett wrote this review.
“There are gates in heaven that will not open except by melody and song.”
— Jim Loeffler, liner notes to The Zmiros Project
“Zmiros” are hymns sung during the circum-Sabbath meals. The Zmiros Project sets these songs to “exhilarating lyrical arrangements.” Its musicians include two Klezmatics, Frank London (on brass and keyboards) and Lorin Sklamberg (on accordion), as well as keyboardist and novelty instrumentalist Rob Schwimmer. Klezheads will recognize Sklamberg’s creamy tenor on the vocals. Liner notes by Jim Loeffler give a history of zmiros and an explanation of each song, most of which are in Hebrew. In Hassidic tradition, the melody has changed to suit the times, but the notes provide only sporadic clues as to what inspired the albums’ arrangements of these tunes.
Whatever the story, many of the zmiros songs sound relatively conservative musically and will seem cozy to Klezheads. Some tracks stick to a modern jazz-pinned folk background of trumpet, piano, and accordion. Others have more odd items popping up. “Omar Hashem Leyakoyv,” a list of promises from God to Israel, is slow and eerie, even trancelike and backed with harmonium and horn. Schwimmer shows off his acclaimed and ethereal theramin to increasingly weird effect on the “very esoteric mystical song ‘Azameyr bishvokhin/Bride’s Song.'” This fascinating piece was written in the 16th century by Isaac Luria. His name is found in the first letters of each stanza, somehow coding out to “I am Isaac Luria, son of Schlomo.” I couldn’t catch this, but maybe you can! In fact the translations to the songs are so interesting that I wish they had been sung in English. “Az nisht keyn emune,” a Latvian zmiros sung in Yiddish, has an organ-generated reggae beat behind it. Proceeding through the Hebrew alphabet, the song explains that “gelt” is not of importance compared to the listed uplifting values. The 
arrangements work, the musicians are wonderful, and Sklamberg’s voice is always a smile — a cheese blintz soaked in honey.
Still Soft Voiced Heart is much closer to art music, and hence perhaps not so much fun for earthy folksters. Here Canadian pianist Marilyn Lerner and vocalist David Wall, both known via The Flying Bulgar Band, have set works by 20th century Yiddish poets to music. The tunes and arrangements are a contemporary mix of traditional, popular, jazz and modern classical music and at times seem very abstract. One song with a tune more closely molded to tradition is “Trili,” using a Yiddish poem by Peretz Miransky; lyrics in English go: “A puckish, piping breeze embraced a slender birch, trili. And they started to sway in a dance.” Stylistically, this song could be on The Zmiros Project and Wall’s voice is much like the honeyed tenor of Sklamberg. Conversely, the easy listening jazz standard interpretation of Miransky’s “The Wind,” is a mix of vaguely discordant tones and a piano style suggesting an upscale supper club. The translation is lovely, “The wind will probably be a black lamb on verdant grass tonight. It will lie on my bosom like you — a black lamb at rest in the fields.” But to my ears, there are no lambs in the music, just cold stone urban skyscrapers and a well-tuned mother-of-pearl piano. The traditional content is evident in most of the tracks, but these expert arrangements and expert musicianship pull the ambience far from the fields and homes into the grim city streets … and on into the concert halls and lounges.
It’s so hard to tell the boundaries of folk and other types of music, and for many people, so useless. But between these two albums there is a real boundary. Interested in Jewish culture and soul? Interested in how words can be fit onto tunes that convey the same idea? Interested in how traditional music can be fused? Then both albums will be of great interest. Interested in folk culture and those special warm feelings? Then go for The Zmiros Project and its pretty ethnicity and leave Still Soft Voiced Heart to the arts crowd.
(Traditional Crossroads, 2002)
(Traditional Crossroads, 2001)
