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Re: Eyn Keyloheynu and other drinking songs
- From: Alex J. Lubet <lubet001...>
- Subject: Re: Eyn Keyloheynu and other drinking songs
- Date: Tue 15 May 2001 18.50 (GMT)
Responding to the message of <DMEKLGDEIEANMBMONEOMMEOKCJAA(dot)lkoenick (at)
erols(dot)com>
from jewish-music (at) shamash(dot)org:
>
> It's been said before but bears saying again. Thank you Cantor Weiss for
> your learned and valuable contributions to this list.
>
> All of this beings to mind a choral song I sang when participating too long
> ago in a synagogue choir. It was called "Moishe ganvet arbes." Its message
> was that the stealing of others' music and passing them off as Jewish music
> was stealing something as worthless as chickpeas. I'm not sure I now agree
> with that premise but it was fun to sing anyway.
>
I find the terms upon which we regard music as borrowed most interesting. Many
have expressed relief that is almost palpable even in cyberspace that this or
that beloved tune was, to the best of our knowledge (and the best seems to be
Cantor Weiss's), composed by a Jew. Why do we even have to ask about Eyn
Keyloheynu, Maoz Tzur, or whatever is the German Jewish tune du jour? Because,
regardless of who composed it, it sounds so much like contemporaneous secular or
Christian music that we feel the matter requires investigation. Even if the
foreground melody was indeed composed by a Jew, the melodic contours, intonation
system, harmony, meter, form, scoring, vocal timbre (much of the time) and even
our privileging of the individual composer, the autonomous composition, and
historical musicology are all products of that Western (and usually Germanic)
tradition. Several methods of analysis, among them Schenker's, would surely
reveal even great resemblance than is obvious in the foreground. Don't get me
wrong.
I love those tunes myself, but I don't care where they came from so much as
where they've been and where I met them; in shul. In this I recall that, during
the time I lived in Poland (in 1999), I was struck by how familiar so much of
the food was in Lublin, a town that tragically cannot even assemble a minyan
these days. I wasn't the least bit bothered that Gentile Poles ate so much
pickled herring, lox, and (by some other name) gefilte fish, and I never stopped
thinking of them as Jewish food.
Alex Lubet, Ph. D.
Morse Alumni Distinguished Teaching Professor of Music
Adjunct Professor of American and Jewish Studies
University of Minnesota
2106 4th St. S
Minneapolis, MN 55455
612 624-7840 612 624-8001 (fax)
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