My first bootlegs album has been released now (though it’s technically not “out” until tomorrow).
I’d post the lyrics and info here; however, it is all available at jonahrank.bandcamp.com.
Did I mention that it is free to hear? And most of the tracks are really inexpensive to download…
Enjoy!
Prologue
I feel that I’m beginning to understand that abstract Jewish idea of transmitting tohorah (purity) or tume’ah (impurity) to a vessel.
Tume’ah is transmitted when a deceased body is in the presence of of a living person, or when a menstruating woman comes in physical contact with another body, or when a nasty reptile crawls into some jug you own.
I might struggle to find spiritual meaning in cases like these, but I’m beginning to understand why someone might actually want a religion where tohorah and tume’ah can be transmitted.
This morning, I strongly considered that the Western Wall might have no inherent kedushah (holiness). Perhaps in the glory days of the Temple, that Wall was witness to millions of sacred rituals, all of which sought out deeper connections between the tangible universe we see and the Divine we seek. The Wall once housed myriads of acts so pure that kedushah permeated the Temple beyond the human imagination.
Today, I stood at the Kotel (the Western Wall), but I hardly sensed kedushah. The Wall felt more like the backdrop to a battlefield for religious warriors. And I hate to say that I felt like one of them.
The Stage
When I arrived towards the far-right edge of the Men’s section, right near the mehitzah that separates the women from the men, I was at first relieved to see a few armed men in uniform, attentively overseeing the actions of the Y-chromosome folks.
I walked up to one of these soldiers and asked him if he was there because of Women of the Wall (who meet monthly for prayer). I hoped he’d say, “Yes” (but in Hebrew–this conversation was in Hebrew). Instead he said something vague about him just being there, and he then asked unconvincingly if there’s something he can help me with. I said, “No,” and I thanked him for doing this work that I see as so important and holy; Women of the Wall needs their support (these women get a lot of flack from outspoken radicals). I don’t remember the soldier’s exact answer to my gratitude, but it ranged somewhere between “Alright” and no response at all.
Time marched along, and women began to trickle into the women’s section. The Women of the Wall began to pray together. Very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very quietly. I had no idea where they were because it was so quiet. All I could tell was–if I would look through the mehitzah (which I did a few times, just to check that everything’s alright)–women were gathering together in prayer.
Act One
In response to the inaudible meditations of the Women of the Wall came one white-bearded, long-bearded, well-aged man with a thick Mizrahi (“Eastern”/Judeo-Arab) accent. This particular fellow began to shout very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very loudly. He was in the back–close to those men in uniform, and right next to a full minyan of men praying on their own in the back-right corner of the men’s section.
“Infidels!” “Pigs!” “This is forbidden by the Torah and the Talmud and the Shulhan Arukh!” Those are just some of the things that emerged from his mouth. He probably took 5-10 minutes to shut up. He persisted in shouting inaccurate yet insinuating comments about Women of the Wall.
At a certain point, this man was so loud that I came up to him and informed him that his shouting made it hard for me to pray with any amount of intention (“I’m sorry. I’m trying to pray.”). Hardly digesting my words, he informed me that I was an infidel pig violating Torah, Talmud, Shulhan Arukh, yada yada yada yada yada. I calmly said again to him, “I’m sorry. I’m trying to pray.” He continued shouting.
I turned to one soldier and asked if it was actually legal for someone to disturb people’s sacred prayer service in a place of such sacred history. The soldier barely looked at me and said that this was, of course, perfectly legal.
So I resumed praying through this shouting (occasionally reminding the shouting man very quietly, “I’m sorry. I’m trying to pray.”).
After some of this (quiet) back and (loud) forth, a soldier shouted to me, “Is this guy disturbing you?”
So, I said, “Yes.”
“Well, he’s not disturbing me.”
Of course he wasn’t disturbing the soldiers standing at the side, bareheaded, chatting with each other through their cigarette smoke. I gave up on believing that these soldiers were going to be especially helpful to the cause of Women of the Wall this morning.
After the shouting man gradually subsided, a man dressed in all black–shoes, pants, suit, and hat–suddenly had an idea! Sing the final paragraph of the Amidah really, really loudly (this guy was not actually reciting the Amidah prior to this; he clearly likes to be loud; and I’d say it was strategic). He began to sing with his full heart (good and bad qualities present), “Sim shalom” (“Grant peace”), and a chorus of scattered men from the Y chromosome section joined in, happily drowning out the barely audible voices of the Women of the Wall.
It was at this point that a friend and I turned to each other (there were only three men actively supporting Women of the Wall in the men’s sections). “If they’re allowed to shout,” he said. “So are we.” I agreed. I suggested that we should loudly sing the prayers the Women of the Wall were singing. Let those honest, earnest voices be heard.
To do so, I figured I’d check and see what the Women of the Wall were up to in the service. I got up on a chair to look over the mehitzah and check in. A soldier yelled at me to get down from the chair. It was not okay for me to stand on a chair to help support a minority group; however, it was alright for other men and women to look over the mehitzah by standing on chairs, and it was alright for men and women to talk to each other through the holes of the mehitzah. Of course though, I am an infidel pig violating Torah, Talmud, Shulhan Arukh, yada yada yada yada yada.
So, I put my ear up against the mehitzah to listen to what the Women of the Wall were up to. In response, a soldier asked me to step away from the “fence” (the word-choice of which sounded awfully similar to some Fence dividing Palestinian and Israeli territories).
Thank God for being sneaky. After moving away, I decided instead to tilt my head awkwardly so I could hear better (without putting my ear against the mehitzah), and I finally could hear what the women were singing.
So, with only two other men on my side (kinda literally), I sang as loudly and clearly as I could (well… as loudly and clearly as I can when running on fewer than 5 hours of sleep).
Singing with them was fun. It was spiritually uplifting, and I felt like I was doing the right thing. In a court of men largely apathetic or aggressively opposed to these women’s modes of religious expression, I could sing in the Presence of God, before the remains of the ancient Temple.
Earlier in history, the grounds around this very Wall housed priestly servants conscientious of maintaining tohorah in the Temple; it was all part of the grand plan to ensure the Temple’s kedushah. No impure vessels in this sacred structure. Only the best.
So, I have to wonder about Jewish men who throw rocks at women in prayer, sons of Israel who toss chairs at daughters of Israel, hypocrites who declare that the pious are “pigs.” Are they actually maintaining kedushah by violently guaranteeing some sense of tohorah here? How can they keep things sacred when sin’at chinnam (baseless hatred) in such a hillul hashem (a desecration of God’s name)? Strict Jewish law is one thing, but the finest of Jewish living cannot be expressed through misogyny, hasty judgment, inflexibility, and so much more that only brings pain to God’s universe. Such actions transmit no tohorah. Sin’at chinnam stains every Jewish body with nasty, gross tume’ah. When the feet of those engaging in sin’at chinnam stand on the grounds of the Temple, I lament the foolishness of false pietists who think their tume’ah is tohorah.
This morning, I had no interest in touching the Wall. What was there for me to touch? A brick? Desecrated by the hands of those who did not want me there? I believe that God is everywhere, and I know that God is in the Wall, I had no interest in seeking God through that Wall at that time.
There are a lot of pure places in the world. There are so many other ways to access kedushah. It was time to move on.
Act Two
After the psalms of Hallel were sung in honor of the new Jewish month, Women of the Wall’s women and men marched to Robinson’s Arch: the partially remaining Southern Wall. At this reserved space, women loudly read Torah, led prayers, guided each other through the service, and opened up their souls.
Robinson’s Arch has no mehitzah. Men and women may stand together in prayer, but I chose to leave these women their space at the Southern Wall. I stood in the back. This was not about me. This was about them. This was about a population muted by their kin, suddenly given the private space to stand at one with their present community, with their sacred history, and with the sweet, eternal quietude of God.
The Southern Wall has nobody shouting about infidels or pigs or violations. This is a structure under which sincere prayer happens: where shalom (peace) is granted in peace to a small, but select few Jews who choose the Western Wall’s modest cousin.
Although the women today chose to pray off to the side and away from the Wall itself at Robinson’s Arch, accessing that Wall is easy for whoever so desires.
Standing even further from the Wall than the central crowd, I witnessed a friend of mine walk over to the Wall. Her head bowed a bit low and her hand held up against the Southern Wall, she stood there humbly: with utter kedushah, with utter tohorah. I had never seen a more beautiful expression of humanity’s capacity to become One with its history.
The faint positioning of herself against the wall–one sole woman leaning against a vast emptiness of a Wall–reminded me that the prophet Elijah did not find the Divine voice in the chaos, but Elijah heard God in a still, small voice. Today, God’s voice was mum at the Kotel. But God’s voice resonated through the whisper of one woman against a wall. She stood there at one with God, with Torah, with Israel, with Jewry, with history, with the Wall, and with herself.
This was the quiet voice of God, and I heard it loud and clear.
Epilogue
Jewish law often worries that women will transmit impurity. The Southern Wall, touched by the hand of a woman who had earlier in the day bravely led dozens in Hallel in the chaos of the Western Wall, was the purest thing I had ever seen. Through the gentle touch of her hand against a rugged wall, one young woman transmitted purity–tohorah far greater than anything I saw at the Kotel.
This morning, my eyes witnessed hundreds of men with hateful tume’ah that polluted the most intact of Jewish history’s most supposedly sacred vessels. Yet, those same frustrated eyes of mine found shalom in discovering that one woman can transmit the greatest of tohorah to one of Jewish history’s most forgotten yet most sacred vessels.
I hope that one day I will live in a Jerusalem where 1,000 men can bestow a kedushah upon the famous Western Wall at least equal to the tohorah a single hopeful hand transmitted today at the forgotten Southern Wall.
May we all use such pure hands to transmit tohorah and kedushah throughout our universe–whether in known places or unknown places. But, if you tell me that those actions will turn me into a pig or an infidel or a violator of Jewish law, then let me tell you something: yes, you will be disturbing me, but I will have no interest in moving away from that fence.
You can’t stop me. I’m trying to pray.
Dear Whoever Stole My Wallet In This Foreign Country,
I figured that this must be the end for me: no driver’s license, no medical insurance, no credit cards, no debit cards, none of that $300+ that was in my wallet when you took it.
I was at my apartment when I noticed the absence of that which you snatched from me.
The first thing I did was give up my dinner plans. I was supposed to bring some wine. Not tonight.
I retraced my steps to see if maybe I dropped it. Still, no wallet.
I called some friends I had spoken to earlier in the day. They offered me food for the night.
After we ate, I prayed a messianic hope: that all people in need of food will get the food they require. I didn’t pray that because I believed it is possible. I prayed that because I wished it were possible.
My friends asked how they could help me. Could they lend me money? Could they give me food?
My family called from overseas. They canceled my cards and ordered new ones. Those are gradually on their way over here.
I have enough food for the next few days, and, though I have no money, I have a roof over my head.
But most importantly, I have loving and caring family and friends.
Honestly, aside from you, all of the strangers I’ve met here have been very friendly. But, that’s not fair for me to say.
I didn’t meet you.
Maybe you are homeless. With $300 you can probably buy 100 decent sandwiches. Maybe you’ll give one good meal to 100 starving children here.
But, then again, what can you do with my driver’s license and my health insurance card? I mean, really.
It’s tough for me to judge anyone, and perhaps this too is a messianic prayer: I pray that whatever you’re doing with my wallet is far greater than anything I could have done with it. I hope that you are feeding the hungry, paying an expensive yet necessary medical bill, rescuing animals, or doing some other fantastic thing. But, for this, I pray because I believe it is possible.
You can take my cards, you can take my license, and you can take my cash. But you’re not much of a thief.
You can take all of those things away from me, but you can never take away optimism, you can never take away prayer, and you can never take away the love and care of friends and family.
Maybe you made me broke. But you did not break me.
I still stand with the strong support of countless people in my life whose concern for me remind me on a daily basis how very rich I am just to be alive.
With much love for good people in a wonderful universe,
Jonah Rank
P.S. My name is my Gmail address. Let me know if you want to return my wallet yet.
I’ve still got a few years left before I become a rabbi, but I received the following message:
You are my favorite not-quite-a-rabbi-rabbi, and I need an opinion.
Is there any justification for not observing second day chag that can be based in anything substantial, other than, “I don’t want to”?
It is putting me in a very difficult position, school-wise, and my instinct is to suck it up and deal with it, but I wanted to check just in case there is some way to create some wiggle room. (Really, I just need to write/use my computer that day. It wouldn’t involve working at an occupation or doing anything with money…)
So, there are two questions here:
1) May one write and/or use a computer on the second day of Yom Tov?
2) May one observe only one day of Yom Tov?
My short answers are: Yes, and Yes.
Let’s deal with that second question, the more complicated one. You’ll see we don’t need to talk too much about the first one after the second question’s been answered. (But I’m happy to talk about the first one separately!)
There is a lot of justification for observing only one day of chag:
1) The original law in the written Torah calls for only one day;
2) Certain exilic Jewish communities in the Talmudic era observed only one day;
3) Modern technology and mathematics know how to calculate what day is the singular “right” day of chag now;
4) Conservative rabbis approved of there being only one day of Yom Tov observed out of Israel several decades ago; and
5) It is easily arguable that it is counter to Jewish living when our spiritual observances in fact burden our spirits rather than elevate them.
For all of these reasons, it is permissible for a Jew to observe only day of Yom Tov.
So, just to expand on these thoughts:
From the Torah alone, there is no reason to celebrate two days of Yom Tov.
The primary reason for observing two days of Yom Tov outside the Land of Israel is as follows: the beginning and end of Yom Tov used to be “announced” by messengers. The stories say: people used to light flames at mountain tops to inform the next community over that Yom Tov was coming. Once you leave the Land of Israel, it takes a while for news like this to travel. By the time you’d find out about Yom Tov in Babylonia, perhaps the Land of Israel had already begun Yom Tov the previous day?
This was a relatively slow process for spreading news. So, in the Talmudic era, it became the norm that Yom Tov would be observed for two days rather than waiting for the exact calendrical calculations and announcements from the Land of Israel. If you observed two days, you’re bound to get it right!
(We’ll come back soon to the problem modernity has with this.)
Yes! The Talmud records such stories, and, according to Rashi, this whole second-day business only happened when there actually were problems with the messengers (mentioned above). As slow as they were, they were relatively on time. (We’re not going to talk here about Jewish Standard Time, which runs a lot later than all local time zones.) The second day of Yom Tov in the Talmudic era, according to Rashi, was in fact, the exception to the rule.
Do you know what’s a faster way of spreading news than old Jewish guys starting fires on mountains? Pretty much anything Steve Jobs was ever behind. Or Bill Gates. Or even Al Gore.
In short, modern technology can tell us the exact instant (okay, plus loading time) what time Yom Tov begins in Israel.
And, taking a step back: that’s not how we calculate today, is it? Every Jewish community on Earth today calculates the beginning of Shabbat and the beginning of Yom Tov by what we can see in our local skies. We have no need to rely on the time in Israel when it comes to our own Yom Tov, so let’s just rely on our own calculations and celebrate!
They surely did!
Why don’t Conservative synagogues today observe only one day of Yom Tov then? The answer is: some actually do. To give an example that was local to me when growing up: Temple Beth Sholom of Smithtown, NY does. And they’re not alone.
I can say comfortably that I’ve worked in at least one synagogue that has had conversations about whether or not they would benefit from building stronger community if they shifted their communal practice to only one day of Yom Tov. In communities with few Jews, it is hard to gather Jews for two days’ worth of services! If these communities want the full warmth of their devoted shul-goers, they could easily benefit from observing only day of Yom Tov.
Furthermore, in communities with few Jews, it is especially challenging for Jews to say “I can’t go to work for two days” or “I can’t go to school for two days” because this leaves Jews beyond the minority; this leaves Jews extremely disadvantaged: fewer sick days or personal days, behind in work, and–frequently–with nobody else in that same boat. One day is challenging, too, but two days of a lonesome holiday is far worse than one day of a lonesome holiday.
The word chag is synonymous with the Arabic word haj, which means “pilgrimage.” A chag is not merely a festival or a holiday, it’s a day when–if we are not moving–we are moved. We are elevated. We are removed from our usual state of being and elevated.
Even if we are not singing Shir Hamma’alot, a Song of Going Up to a physical Jerusalem, we, in our hearts, are singing a Shir Hamma’alot of going up to a spiritual Jerusalem on chag.
As far as I can tell, Jerusalem, Yerushalayim, is a contraction of two words: Yerushah, and Shalem. Yerushah, heritage, and Shalem, wholeness. On every chag, we have to be able to elevate ourselves to recognize the wholeness of our Yerushah, or at least to have shalom and to be at peace with our heritage.
So, on a chag, can we allow a churban beit hammikdash–a destruction of the holy Temple? Can we allow a destruction of the physical embodiment of the sacred? That physical Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed, and we can’t do anything about that, but, today, we still celebrate chag! Do we go up to physical Jerusalem? No. We also don’t go to a physical Temple.
But, we do go to a spiritual Yerushalayim and we enter a spiritual Beit Hammikdash–a spiritual embodiment of the sacred–when our ritual practices resonate with our spiritual needs.
So, for the lone observant Jew four towns away from Albequerque, New Mexico, two days of chag might be, not only professional suicide, but spiritual suicide. When religion hurts your life, then the religion’s not working. We learn from the story of the Binding of Isaac that our religious fervor should never hurt us.
One day of from work? Sure, it’s not very easy. But it’s a day to take off because you can truly celebrate. You can truly have a Yom Tov. A good day. It’s a day of Chag.
You can take that pilgrimage up to your spiritual Yerushalayim where you are at one with what you have inherited from hundreds of generations of Jews. In that Yerushalayim, in that pure, peaceful, whole heritage, you can meditate in that Beit Mikdash you have built out of the construct of your Jewish life.
THAT’S a Yom Tov. After such a Good Day, who needs to repeat it the next day? The Torah would never have asked us to try to attain such a high level of spiritual consciousness!
Hey, look! It’s my…
Rosh Hashanah Day 2 Sermon: Rethinking and Reaffirming a Mitzvah
Yes, that’s right: Caffe Vivaldi!
Among the many talented people performing tonight were: Craig Greenberg (with whom I had played an open mic night back in 2006–still a really awesome, talented guy), Emily Earle, Todd Kramer, Dan Lavoie, Briar Cox, Josh Taylor, Samantha Preis, Marine Futin, Morgan Venticinque, Marc Schlesinger, Jamie Bendell, Adam Bohanan, and Valerie Mize.
T’was a lot of fun tonight! I played a new song, and the initials were S.W.A.P. (E.S.W.I.). Can you guess what that stands for?
Winner gets a cookie (provided by a third party you have to find… I can’t afford cookies)!
Anyway, I’m outtie!
Here is the sheet music for voice!
Here is the sheet music for voice with optional keyboard accompaniment!
I’m Quitting the Music Business
Album art by Sam Guzik.
All tracks written, arranged, recorded, mixed, engineered, produced, mastered, and performed completely by Jonah Rank unless indicated otherwise. © 2011 Rank Records.
1. I’m Quitting the Music Business (An Introduction)
2. Rock & Roll Or the Rabbinate
Lead guitar performed and improvised by Andrés Wilson.
Everything else by Jonah Rank.
I was born a Jewboy and a preacher man’s son.
I had music in my hands and frontlets above my eyes.
They’ve been asking me if I will follow in my daddy’s footsteps
Ever since the day when I was circumcised.
Everybody watched me grow,
They’d say “Whatcha wanna do?” I’d say “Idunno.”
So people’d call, say, “Beware,” then “you’re bound to fall.”
But, I’d snap on a guitar strap ‘neath my prayer shawl.
It was always my habit,
At the black end of the Sabbath,
I’d listen to a guitar solo and get to tabbin’ it
I was your typical boy who rocks out
Waving his arms with his bagels and lox out,
So it was either rock & roll or the rabbinate.
I believe in rock and roll but Idunno if music can save me,
Yet I’m happy to jam and rock though I’m a skeptic.
Yes, you and I can duel and play sweet tasty solos,
But it won’t be better than my gramma’s recipe for kreplach.
Girl, you know we’ll get it right
When it comes this Friday night:
Girl, you’re going to light my fire—
You can wear modest attire.
You bet that after I’m rocked
By Lewandowsky and Carlebach
I’ll take cream cheese out for bagels and start stabbin’ it.
I met a girl who sang the blues
And asked her which one she would choose
If it were either rock & roll or the rabbinate.
Suffice it to say, she said rock & roll.
And then she told me not to interrupt her songs anymore when she’s on the stage.
Imagine some hard days or nights
When I’m working like a dog
Doing some strange cultic rites
Right at my own synagogue.
If that’s the way the money flows,
Then c’est la vie; that’s how life goes.
But I heard Neil Young sing about
Rocking in a world that’s free
If the world is free, then without a doubt
The salary of rock & roll’s all right by me.
But I can’t get no satisfaction
When starvation’s a distraction.
But all economics aside,
I know that I must decide.
When the Greene-Horne of opportunity comes, I’ll be grabbin’ it.
Whether it’s Ozzy Osbourne eating bats
Or kneidlach cooked by Mrs. Katz,
It’s either rock & roll or the rabbinate.
I’ll rock your ears like a cradle.
Then we all can play dreidel.
It’s either rock & roll or the rabbinate.
Cucucachu, Mrs. Robinson,
Have you met the rebbetzin?
It’s either rock & roll or the rabbinate.
I’ll always be the King of Pain,
And you can be my Queen of Chrain,
It’s either rock & roll or the rabbinate.
It’s always rock & roll.
It’s only rock & roll.
It’s either rock & roll or the rabbinate.
3. The Debate Over the Most Important Meal
4. Meals Are the Most Important Food Of the Day
A child sits under a table and dreams
Of a world full of sweet-tooth chocolate creams.
She opens her troubled eyes and looks back.
Now she’s determined to eat a small snack.
She fills up a colorful plate of mass-produced foods
Designed to stimulate hyperactive moods.
She’s energized now and she thinks that’s okay,
But meals are the most important food of the day.
Breakfast gets you up, and lunch and dinner keep you going.
Drinks keep you hydrated, and protein keeps you growing.
Carbs and sugars do other stuff too.
And if you vary what you eat, supposedly that’s good for you.
But clump your foods together; don’t just eat here and there
‘Cause when you eat sparse foods intermittently, satisfaction is rare.
Yes, your stomach may growl and your intestines may bray
‘Cause Meals are the most important food of the day.
All kinds of people eat snacks all the time.
The occasional snack is no civil crime.
But when the Surgeon General speaks, you’re gonna hear him say,
“Meals are the most important…
They are the most important…
Meals are the most important…
Food of the day.”
Don’t cut corners; you can’t get away (from the fact that)
Meals are the important food of the day.
Don’t just have a bite; go fill up a tray.
Meals are the important food of the day.
You better eat a full meal when you start an entrée.
Meals are the important food of the day.
Whether you’re from Brooklyn or you’re from Bombay,
Meals are the important food of the day.
Don’t give dessert too much credit. Meals are here to stay.
Meals are the important food of the day.
You can ask Dr. Phil, Dr. Ruth, or Dr. Dre.
Meals are the important food of the day.
5. Romance Is Easier In Spanish
6. Tú Eres Mi Especial Hamburguesita
Spanish proofread by Jael Goldstein.
Everything else by Jonah Rank.
Muchas personas no te exaltan.
Pero, hay una planeta que la puedes salvar.
Ellos no pueden comprender tu potenciál.
Pero, cuando yo te miro, yo necesito salivar.
Tú eres mi especial hamburguesita.
Tú eres guapa y muy bonita.
En mis ojos y mi vida, tu eres gloriosita.
Tú eres mi especial hamburgesita.
Cuando yo no estoy contigo,
No puedo imaginar mi vida sin ti ni hoy ni mañana
Y también deseo matar a todos
Y quiero destruir cada tomate y manzana.
Tú eres mi especial hamburguesita.
Tú eres lo mejor cuando estás con una pita.
Te comeré con una papa frita.
Tú eres mi especial hamburgesita.
Yo no podría vivir si no comiera carne
Hay muchas cosas fantasticas que puedes darme.
Yo me moriría si fuera vegeteriano.
Estoy contento cuando te agarro en mi mano.
Tú eres mi especial hamburguesita.
Tú inspiras a cada persona a hacerse gordita.
Sorbo los vientos por ti una poquita.
Tú eres mi especial hamburguesita.
7. A Love Tainted By Xenophobia
8. Café Ana
Jonah Rank thinks that he might have written it with Jim Morrison of The Doors, but it’s unlikely. Everything else is by Jonah Rank.
Analuísa serves everyday
Coffee that’s brown in a mug that’s gray.
She asks me “Con leche?” And I say, “Okay,”
‘Cause I don’t know what that means or what I’m supposed to say.
I don’t believe in Café Ana.
I don’t believe.
I cannot speak in Café Ana.
I cannot speak.
Analuísa works the whole shop.
When I ask her for coffee, I just ask for a drop,
But she keeps on pouring when I tell her to stop.
But I always give my excess coffee to the nearest cop.
I don’t believe in Café Ana.
I don’t believe.
My cup overflows in Café Ana.
My cup overflows.
Analuísa never drinks her own drinks.
I see the other customers, and we exchange winks.
We all know just what Analuísa thinks,
But she won’t admit that her coffee stinks.
I don’t believe in Café Ana.
I don’t believe.
I don’t buy into Café Ana.
I don’t buy into it.
I’m lactose-intolerant at Café Ana.
I would never order milk.
I don’t support Café Ana
Except I give it cash.
I don’t believe in Café Ana.
I don’t believe.
9. Solving the ABBA Problem
10. Mr. Krant (Do You Remember the 70s?)
Shoving nachos into your mouth
As The Chosen sits upon your couch,
You watch the Taco Bell Chihuahua
On a TV set you bought in Walla-Walla,
And I interrupt, Michael.
I say, “Mr. Krant, do you remember the 70s
The way that I do?
I was in a band named ‘JMJM,’ named for
Jonah (me), Mike, Jessie and Michal,
Kind of like how ABBA was named for
Anni-frid, Björn, Benny and Agnetha—
Though we came first, and we had also been Swedish.
And I wrote all of JMJM’s songs,
Which we kindly donated to Benny and Björn.
Though they used all of the songs we gave them
And turned them into smash hits,
There was one song about genetic testing, which they rejected.
Björn and Benny laughed and said
That the song sounded like a bad story for a musical.
Many years later, Catherine Johnson took the song about genetic testing
And turned it into a musical,
Except she used the rest of ABBA’s songs except for that one,
And it seems she didn’t realize the point of the genetic testing
Was to determine who the father of the story’s
Main character is.
But, Mr. Krant, do you remember the 70s
The way that I do?”
You stare blankly at the screen.
You shrug your shoulders, and then you say, “No.”
And then when the commercial ends, you look at me and say,
“This doesn’t even sound like a true story.”
11. Genetic Test (The Missing ABBA Song)
Performed by JMJM—Mike Klein: bass, guitar and background vocals; Michal Mechlovitz: lead vocals; Jonah Rank: drums, keyboards; Jessie Winkler on background vocals.
Mixed and engineered by Mike Klein and Jonah Rank.
Everything else by Jonah Rank.
When my momma Donna had me, she raised me alone—didn’t even have uncles or aunts.
My closest thing to family were the Dynamos: Tanya and Rosie, who wore tight pants.
My momma Donna sang with them a very long time ago–I would say about twenty years.
Since then though she hasn’t done much but sing ABBA songs and be negligent, rich, and drunk on beers.
The real plot began though when I found my momma’s diary and I read just a bit of it.
I shared it with Lisa and Ali, my two only friends; they agreed it says I’m illegitimate.
On July 17th or August 4th I was conceived—or maybe even August 15th
Because Harry Bright, Bill Austin, and Sam Carmichael “dot dot dot…”—whatever that means.
I know I’ve got no brother,
Zero sisters, and one mother.
But now I want to know the rest.
I’ll give my blood, my skin, my hair or even amniotic fluid
Or any other tissue that will do it
And tell me who’s my daddy through a genetic test.
This might not seem to you like much cause for commotion, but, you see, I kinda wanna marry this guy.
I don’t know what his last name is cuz he lacks personality, but I know his first name is Sky.
In fact, my potential fathers (Harry, Bill and Sam) are the only people with last names I know.
It’s not my fault though that no one has last names mentioned; just, Catherine left them out of the show.
So, the peak of conflict comes when I invite my potential dads to my wedding.
But at their arrivals, they each suspect they are my dad cuz back then, they were getting real high, I’m betting.
Yet I find their stupid stupors aggravating cuz I want my dad to give me away as a bride.
There’s no conflict resolution: We all just get confused, and no one’s left with any secrets to hide.
I know I’ve got no brother,
Zero sisters, and one mother.
But now I want to know the rest.
It’s more than trust or love this woman needs
And more than English-language pop songs sung by Swedes
As I find out my dad through a genetic test.
I know I’ve got no brother,
Zero sisters, and one mother.
But now I want to know the rest.
If this confusion means my wedding just won’t be fun,
Let’s call off the wedding and ask for a refund
Cuz I need money, money, money for a genetic test.
12. In Memory of Spencer Maier (The Beginning of an Intermedio)
13. Memories of Adventures With Spencer Movement 1
14. Memories of Adventures With Spencer Movement 2
15. Memories of Adventures With Spencer Movement 3
16. Are Angels Real?
17. Angels Come
Violins performed by Jonathan Bloomfield. Everything else by Jonah Rank.
Chorus:
Angels come.
Angels go.
They’ve got some purpose
That they barely know.
Angels don’t
See their wings.
They just fly away onto
Better things.
I pray to God
That I’m not an angel.
I pray to God
That she’s not one too.
The spirits of angels never
Really die away.
But I want to say to her,
“I want to be alive through you.”
Chorus
I’m in love with,
And in fear of, an angel.
I’m very scared that she’ll
Fly away.
I want to know
If she is an angel, or if
She’s of the mold who’s
Here to stay.
Chorus
I found a small, little place where
I met an angel.
The angel hurt me,
Said some kind words and left.
I had no clue though
That that was an angel.
My heart is empty now,
And my soul is bereft.
Chorus
Angels come.
Angels go.
They’ve got some purpose
That they barely know.
Angels are
Who they’re sent here to be.
They’re not meant to
Stay with me.
18. An Inspiration From John Cage (The End of an Intermedio)
19. The Complete Anthology of Words Pronounced Better By Scots Than By [Other] Brits
20. Sympathizing With the Differences
21. The Agony of Being a Roommate
I know it’s hard for you to remember
To flush the toilet after you’ve gone.
I know how hard it is for you to keep the apartment safe
By not leaving every heating appliance on.
They say that living alone is hard,
But I say living with a roommate is harder.
They say you’ve got to play the right cards,
And sometimes we just wish we were smarter.
Chorus:
Don’t feel bad, roomie. I’m not mad, roomie.
We can start all over again. It’s not too late.
I hope you realize that I can sympathize.
I also know the agony of being a roommate.
I know it’s hard for you to keep in mind
That things are better when you pay your rent.
I know how hard it is for you to keep your brain cells working
While blasting at full volume each NetFlix DVD you’re sent.
They say that living with a roommate is bad,
But I think that it gets better
Because you stopped passing out drunk on my bed,
And I’m very glad about that since you’re a bedwetter.
Chorus
I won’t judge you harshly for:
The chips you left out on the floor;
The toothpaste on the mirror;
The fact you never lock the door;
Singing Metallica songs at midnight
And children songs just before dawn;
The literally random girls you bring home
And fume-inducing drugs you’re on;
When you the break the bathroom door open
As I’m inside and pleading you not to enter;
And that, when you imagine the universe,
You’re convinced you’re in the center;
You can’t figure out how to work the vacuum
And you struggle with a broom;
You’re keeping up a decrepit life,
And you keep a decrepit room.
I know it’s hard to keep in the back of your mind
Not to leave unidentifiable fluids on the chairs.
I know how hard it is for you to stop yourself
From pushing my guests down several flights of stairs.
They say it takes one to get to know one,
But I, for one, can’t figure you out.
Why did you smash my laptop with your microwave,
And—when you set my suits on fire—what was that all about?
Chorus
Have no fear, roomie. You’ll stay here, roomie,
Until I tell Craigslist I need a new roommate.
22. Using Computers and MIDI
23. Mac ‘N’ Keys
I figured I’d record this song in the studio,
But there weren’t any drums.
How can I make a hip-hop hit or a pop song
Without any drums?
When I realized that my lack of a drumset
Wasn’t an uncommon situation,
I gave in and turned on the UltraBeat Drum Machine
Out of common desperation.
Then it seemed the only chords I could play
Were the tonic, sub-mediant, subdominant, and dominant.
Though that progression has been featured in other songs,
I figure it still has the right to be prominent.
After all, after all is said and done:
This music I’m making is hardly amazing; it’s just mildy fun.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
With a MIDI synthesizer, I appear just that much wiser.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
I don’t need to play the bass to play a bass in your face.
So, when I found out that my cowbell orchestra was running late;
I fired them, found a percussion patch, and attempted to replicate.
And then I thought:
Why did I need a cowbell orchestra in this song?
I’m not sure that it would work.
So, I turned it off.
I saw John Williams on the New York subway train,
So I hummed the theme from Jaws.
I tried to articulate to him my love for him
In an independent clause.
And then I asked Mr. Williams if I could borrow
The London Symphony Orchestra’s first-chair flautist.
But I couldn’t make out his response because, of all the sounds on the train,
The mariachi band was the loudest.
See, I could have found a musician, and our personalities might not have clicked.
But, I get by anti-socially relying on my digital tricks.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
Got my Apple and my keyboard; now there’s nothing left that I can afford.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
I broke up with my band because I don’t need a hand.
When I found out that my glockenspiel player died,
I sat in a corner, and I nearly cried.
But I looked around, and then I found
A sufficiently similar sound.
Do you like my glockenspiel?
I want to thank the pirates on the Internet
For giving me these Plug-ins for free.
But, baby, you ain’t heard nothing (original) yet.
But at least the songs I program are superior to me.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
Can you hear me rock-n-rollin’ with my RAM and my Roland?
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
I use my Kurzweil in mainstream style.
I wonder how long it’s gonna be before we agree that musicians are extinct.
After all, it’s been a while since I’ve heard a hit song that was relatively distinct.
Maybe you can be my witness
As we slaughter the music business.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
Virtuosity is minimal when the musicians are all digital.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys,
Keeping people out of work with my Moog and my Korg.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
Place a sound on a plate, and make it reverberate!
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
I thank Gosh for my Macintosh.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
I thank Gosh for my Macintosh.
I thank God for my Mac ‘n’ keys.
24. Looking Somewhere Else
25. A Variant On the Masoretic Text (The Song That, For Scholars of Biblical Criticism, Is Emotionally Affective)
You say you’re not looking for my very best.
And I can tell by an apophatic hermeneutical principle that you’re looking for whatever comes next.
If I properly comprehend both you and the Maimonidean Guide for the Perplexed,
You’re looking for a version of me other than the Masoretic text.
I recently heard you tell me that same exact story,
But the first time it was clean, and the second time gory.
And the first time you told it there were numbers involved,
And, the second time you told it, I didn’t like the way it was resolved.
Chorus:
Sometimes when I think you say “E,”
It turns out that you really said, “P.”
And then you say words heretofore never heard
Just like when Josiah discovered D.
Come on, now. Let’s take out the BHS.
You’re looking for a version of me other than the Masoretic text.
Different witnesses I know comment on you in different ways.
And whenever they try to quote you, it seems more like a paraphrase.
So, when I try to—the text here is corrupt—
I guess I’ll just never know what you—the Leningrad codex says “said,” and the Aleppo codex reads, “intended to say.”
Chorus
Do you think that I can change?
I was made this way.
Chorus
Come on, come on, come on, come on. Don’t touch me! I’m a rare manuscript!
Come on, now! Let’s go to the Rare Book Room of JTS.
You’re looking for a version of me other than the Masoretic text.
26. Introducing a Legend To You
27. Tani Cohen
Tani was a cowboy who took me bowlin’
In an ice arena with a hockey team,
And some said he was actually Canadian,
But he just said he wanted to follow his dreams.
So, we packed our bags and left the USA,
Headed straight to the USSR.
And we met with Bismarck with Bismarck who put us on hold
As he made a deal with Goethe to sell him his car
Tani would do anything for Prussia,
He said, “I’ll even conquer Belgium and Scotland for you.
As long as long as you don’t ask about Mumbai or France
Cuz they’ve got their own missions that they want me to do—cuz I’m Tani… (Cohen)…”
So, he put some jeans on over his overalls
And wore his lucky scuba goggles with his lucky jet pack.
Genghis Khan wrote him a letter from Khazar,
Saying, “I’ve got Swiss chocolate if you ever get back.”
Tani danced all night to the blues.
Then he blew a sax solo and picked up the flute.
He said “I’m not a betting men, but let’s play poker
‘Cuz I’ve got the King and Queen and Ace of every suit—cuz I’m Tani… (Cohen)…”
He put away the machete and got in the van.
He was never so relieved to be relaxed before.
All his years in Nam and studying law
Flat out went to waste when he cleaned up the store.
He said, “I’ll never do this again.
I really don’t think the convent’s for me.
I can’t confine myself to any piloting school,
And I’m a free mason so I’ve gotta be free—cuz I’m Tani… (Cohen)…”
He officially resigned then from his post at the madrasa
And moved back to San Diego, near Hollywood.
He wrote to George Lucas about a thought he had,
And it had a bigger impact than we thought that it would.
And they made a movie of Tani’s autobiography,
But Tani’s stunt double wrote it entirely,
And he moved into the Qatar Embassy.
He was unemployed, but he said, “I bet they’ll hire me—cuz I’m Tani (Cohen)…”
When Tani was released from jail the next day,
Quentin Tarantino’s film was finally released.
They added musical numbers just to keep it upbeat.
It was the #1 film in the Middle East.
But, Tani Cohen wasn’t well received in Spain.
They’d mistranslated the title and the opening line.
So, Tani said, “Now, I’ve had it with this world;
There’ll never be another contract I’m gonna sign—‘cuz I’m Tani… (Cohen)…”
28. Trying Again With a Pineapple
29. Pineapple Part 2 (This One’s Got Music and Words)
Drums improvised by Alan Silverman
Everything else by Jonah Rank
Hey, somebody come, and eat me please.
I’d be down on my knees
If I only had knees,
But I don’t have knees,
And neither do kiwis or grapefruit,
And neither do grapes or chocolate,
And neither do carrots or cornflakes,
And neither do typical foods that vegans eat
Unless they’re genetically engineered
Or something really weird
Like that,
In which case the food might wear nametags
And a mustache and a hat,
But I’m a pineapple.
I am a Pineapple.
And I am tropical.
And I am topical.
You know, I just can’t breathe so well
Not even puffers do the trick.
And I can’t do any damage to my lungs,
But I still refuse to smoke
Because it’s bad for the environment—
Because I’m not sure also that…
I’m not sure whether or not I’m capable
Of lighting a match or possessing thumbs that really are opposable.
I can’t say that I feel too strongly either way
About whether or not smoking is okay
Because usually pineapples don’t even vote
Because they don’t even have a brain.
And part of the problem is that I don’t feel
Anything at all today.
And I can never feel anything
Because my senses are limited.
Cuz I’m a pineapple.
I am a pineapple.
And I am tropical.
And I am topical.
And I’m going to be here
All week long.
But you might want to eat me soon,
Or else I might start rotting,
But I’m not going surfing.
Here’s to you, Allison Adges…
Ah-hoo!
Pineapples of London…
Oh…
People often ask me, do I have superpowers,
And I say, “No! What do you think? I mean,
I’m a pineapple:
I have no cape,
And I have no secret identity,
And there aren’t even changing booths anymore.
And the last superhero movie that I saw
Made me want to quit my dayjob
Because I had formerly been a superhero.
And no one here is in clear and present danger
Not these days anyway—
At least not when they see that I’m just a pineapple
Nobody cares.
Nobody cares.
Won’t somebody eat me please?
I’m down on my metaphorical knees.
Cuz I’m a pineapple.
I’m just a pineapple.
Cuz I’m a pineapple.
30. Flying To the Next Adventure (And Thanks)
Thanks:
I’d like to thank all family, friends, teachers, and everyone whose lives have influenced mine. I’d like to thank everyone who was thanked in the liner-notes of my two previous CDs: Loud and Dumb and Your Favorite Album, and I’d additionally like to thank everybody who collaborated with me on the creation of this album as well as the following people who did not directly work on this album: Abby Bernstein, Adina Bernstein, Adina Rosen, Aharon Varady, Allison Davis, Allison Poirier, Andre Rivie, Alisha Kaplan, Ariana Tobias, Ariella Epel, Ariella Rosen, Asia Mei, Ben Folds, Ben Herman, Brad Garton, C.J. Glass, Candace Tabbs, Chava Creque, Dan di Paolo, Dan Iglesia, Dana Kline, Daniel Chorny, Davey Rosen, David Irwin, Derrick Ashong, Dov Fields, Eliana Kissner, Ellen Gray, Ellie Hisama, Emily Watkins, Erica Dashow, Etta Abramson, Eva Gonzalez-Ruskiewicz, Frani Goodman, Gabriella Spitzer, Geoffrey Holbrook, Hanabiell Sanders, Ishmael Osekre, Jacob Taber, Jeffrey Milarsky, Jill Shapiro, Joel Chorny, John Szwed, John Teal, Jonathan Hack, Joseph Patterson, Josh Dickinson, Josh Warshawsky, Katy Beehler, Kristin Young, Lauren Tuchman, Lee Epstein, Leora Perkins, Lorene Bouboushian, Lydia Walker, Ma’ayan Bar-Yam, Marlon Feld, Maria Carson, Marina Evans, Mary Blahovec, Masha Mitlina, Matt Klein, Matthew Hass, the Maier family, Mia Simring, Micah Shilcrat, Michael Krant, Michal Richardson, Mike McKeever, Mitzi Steiner, Myq Kaplan, Nara Garber, Nichole Chorny, Nina Kretzmer, Pat Zimmerli, Peter Himmelman, Phillip Askew, Rachel Dudley-slash-Zerin—whatever her name is, Rachel Goldstein, Rami Schwartzer, Richard Braverman, Robert Somerville, Roni Tabick, Sam Shuman, Sam Zerin, Sammie Schwab, Sandy Perry Sequoya Johnston, Sara Bareilles, Sarah Myerson, Sarah Taber, Sarit Horwitz, Sean Hallowell, Shao-Wen Ang, Shoshi Tabick, Shuli Passow, Simon Dick, Simeon Cohen, Stanley Ely, Tani Cohen, Terry Pender, Thomas Slanover, Tzafrir Barzilay, Veronica Booz, Yakov Hadash, Yoni Stadlin, Zach Cohen, all my peers in grad school, everybody whom I got to know through working for Brandeis University’s Office of High School for the summer of 2010, and everybody whom I should have thanked but neglected to thank so far: for those of ya’ll in the last category, I’ll try and thank you next time.
31. Tonight I’ll Be Flyin’
Well, I’m sittin’ in the airport,
And I hear music overhead.
There’s a country song about travelin’
And a song for someone’s friend.
I can hear the cries of babies
And the innocent laughs of kids.
But in my head there’s playin’
A sweet song that goes like this:
Chorus:
Tonight I’ll be flyin’
At nauseatin’ heights.
Tonight I’ll be on an airplane,
And I might vomit each time we turn.
Tonight I’ll be reflectin’
On the notion of the afterlife.
Tonight I’ll be hopin’
That my plane don’t crash and burn. (Crash and burn.)
Tonight, I hope my plane don’t crash and burn.
Just 25 minutes ago,
I was standin’ in a line,
Which, according to geometry,
Has two ends that are undefined,
And it was true in the case of security here
Cuz I stood there for all time,
And, as I removed electronics and shoes,
I sang that age-old rhyme:
Chorus
So whether you’re a terrorist
Or a simple folk like me,
We deal with erratic people
And all those laws of gravity.
All it takes is one glitch in the system
And that can happen soon.
So let’s hold hands and dance and smile
And sing that sacred tune:
Chorus
All songs mixed, recorded, improvised, composed and produced by Jonah Rank in 2007.
Jonah Rank: organ
2. East Carolina On the West
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: banjo
3. The Electric Couch
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: bass guitar
4. Dental Breakdown
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: drums, percussion
5. No Hindsight In Reach (No Lessons Taught)
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: violin
6. Blue and Green (No Time)
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: chromonica
7. Ancient Near Eastern Holiday Blues
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: shofar
8. The Electric Fuzzy Couch
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: bass guitar
9. Yeah Yeah Yeah (Rock)
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: drums, percussion
10. Scenes From a First Grade Classroom
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: wooden recorder-thing #1
11. Scenes From a Second Grade Classroom
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: wooden recorder-thing #2
12. Scenes From a Third Grade Classroom
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: wooden recorder-thing #3
13. Scenes From a Fourth Grade Classroom
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: wooden recorder-thing #4
14. 17th Century Blues
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: violin
15. Still Lost
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: guitar
16. Getting an F On a Breath Alcohol Test
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: trumpet
17. On the New Paint
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: guitar
18. Beyond Green Hills
Music by Jonah Rank
Jonah Rank: piano
