Sultan Knish is keeping tabs on Moshe Yess.
Here are some pics and video clips of Sunday night's HASC concert.
And on a serious note, here are two moving posts. In this one, an introspective Fudge reflects on Kol Isha
...no, seriously. i am not trying to insult the reform, the conservative et al. this is one place in which other forms of judiasm inherently differ, and i am too inexperienced and unknowledgable to tackle a heady religious debate. but lately i've been practicing with an all girl band, and kol isha is not just some quaint notion to me. it surprises me how many people here are educated enough to know better who shrug it off. it's inconvenient; it gets in the way of too much. don't you want our band to be serious? how can our band get anywhere if we can't play for guys? we can't get any gigs that way. ok, so you don't have to sing. but if we don't care, what's to stop us from singing? it's their sin anyway! if they get turned on by us singing, that's their problem! they're creeps! kol isha has been seriously exaggerated. the rabayim didn't mean it that way. it's not d'oreisa. recordings are ok. microphones are ok. live performances are ok. you don't even know why you're doing it. if you knew the real halachos behind all of the beis yaakov hype you would see that there's really no issur.In this one, Shira writes about increased observance and music.
no, maybe i don't understand the halachic basis for why i do it. but one thing i have learned from college is that i am doing it. it's hard, i'm afraid that it may cost me a few friends, and i don't know what i'll do when the band actually finds a co-ed gig they want to play. will i play guitar and not sing and still think i'm fine? will i opt out for that gig? will i opt out entirely? should i do it now, and save myself the trouble? but they're practicing a song that i wrote!
the truth is, i don't know. but if i cede one battle to convenience, there goes the neighborhood.
How far will the music move me? I listen to Neshama Carlebach singing the words of her late father, Shlomo Carlebach, "Return to who you are, return to what you are . . . ," and I'm torn.
Scarier still is this: "Gotta take that first step . . . make that committment . . . move along the path, move along the path . . ."
I'm moving, but I just don't know how far I want to go.