[Writing in Berkeley in 1977, Lev Liberman established a context for East Side Wedding:]
To rediscover the unashamed passion and hysteria of authentic Yiddish music you have to journey to the limits of living memory, to the lean years when Eastern European refugees swarmed by the millions into tenements and factories of New York City. Neglected manuscripts and forgotten 78-rpm recordings are your ticket to the union halls, cabarets, and proletarian weddings of 1927 where the badkhn's (wedding jester's) bawdy rhyme, the Talmud scholar's chant, the Ukrainian peasant's drinking song, and the Rumanian Gypsy's lament were wedded in ways at once traditional and fresh — where melodies of Lublin, Kiev, Vilna, and Bucharest uncoiled night after night from the fingers of immigrant klezmorim.
The klezmer tradition goes back to medieval Europe, where bands of illiterate, impoverished Jewish musicians performing on second-hand or home-made instruments traveled from village to town to entertain at weddings and festivals, frequently in Gentile communities. The most geographically mobile of Jews, klezmorim bridged the cultural abyss between the ghetto and the world — performing tunes of peasants and soldiers in a style distinctively Yiddish.
Our own checkered musical backgrounds have to some extent paralleled those of the original klezmorim. Like them, we learned our craft playing with small bands in bars and cafés, at dance parties, and on the streets. We do most of our arranging comunally and by ear — improvising as much as possible in ways appropriate to each tune's time and place of origin. Where solos are concerned we make a point of never doing anything the same way twice.
[Track notes from the original record release:]
Trello Hasaposerviko (Crazy Dance)
A Rumanian Jewish freylakh which at some point was designated as a
"butcher's dance in Serbian style" and was added to the Greek dance band
repertoire.
Yoshke, Yoshke
This melody, also known as Reb Dovid'l, Der Rebbe Hot Geheysn,
and Tants, Tants, Yidelakh, may be the Turkey in the Straw of
Eastern Europe. Several variants have turned up on dics made in the 1920s and
30s by Ukrainian, Polish, and Greek bands. Though the lyrics seem to mark this
version as a 19th-century Hasidic drinking song recalling Rebbe Dovid'l
of Talno, it could equally well be a satire of the Hasidim devised by their
opponents the Misnagdim.
| Yoshke, Yoshke, shpan dem loshek, Zol er gikher loyfn, Tomer vet er zikh obshteln Veln mir im nit kenen farkoyfn. Der Rebbe hot geheysn freylakh zayn, Trinkn bronfn nisht keyn vayn. |
Yoshke, Yoshke, pace the horse, Let him run quickly. If he stops, We won't be able to sell him. The Rebbe has told us to be merry And to drink whiskey, not wine. |
Cîntec de Dragoste/Hora lui Damian (Song of Love/Damian's
Hora)
A tender ballad of Rumanian Gypsy origin, and a lively hora created by
the nai (panpipe) master Damian Luca. The Rumanian words
(strigaturi) are shouted to add a rhythmic accompaniment to the dance
tune. Rumanians have an expression: "Without strigaturi there is no
dancing."
| Hei plînge-ma maica cu dor hei ca ti-am fost voinic fecior mai Hei di prib'gese prin tari straine si-o sa mor gândind la tine |
Oh, cry for me, dear mother, with love because I was a strong son for you I wander through foreign lands and I shall die thinking of you |
Dem Ganefs Yikhes (The Thief's Lineage)
Yikhes, which means "breeding," "family background," or "social status,"
must have been a highly charged word for the smugglers and prostitutes of
Odessa, among whom this lusty insult-match probably originated. Russian terms
pepper the Yiddish text. The tune may have been composed as an aid to
meditation by a Hasidic rebbe!
| Vos-zhe bistu, Motkele, b'royges? Vos hostu aropgelozt di noz? Oy, efsher vilstu visn dayn yikhes? Ken ich dir dertseyln ver un vos: Dayn tate iz a shmarovoznik Dayn mame ganvet fish in mark Un dayn bruder iz a kartyozhnik Un dayn shvester leybt mit a Kozak. Dayn feter iz geshtanen oyf di rogn Dayn mume — a hendlerke in gas Un dayn bruder zitst in di ostrogn Un dayn shvester... ai-di-di-dai-dai-dum. Dayn zeyde iz geven a shoykhet Dayn bobe — a tukerke in bod Un aleyn bist du a mamzer Genumen bist du fun priyut. |
Why, little Mordecai, are you so angry? Why is your nose turned down? Oy, perhaps you'd like to know your breeding? I can tell you who and what: Your father greases wagon wheels Your mother steals fish at the fair And your brother is a card-sharp And your sister lives with a Cossack. Your uncle hangs around streetcorners Your aunt — a street-peddler And your brother sits in prison And your sister... ai-di-di-dai-dai-dum. Your grandpa was a butcher Your grandma — a bath-house attendant And you yourself are a bastard Taken from an orphanage. |
(Translated
by Dr. Martin
Schwartz)
Doina
Improvised lament in traditional Rumanian style.
Thalassa (The Sea)
Greek and Yiddish melodies are combined in this tune from the repertoire of the
clarinetist Peter Mamakos. Our arrangement features the lauto, a Greek
lute with four double courses, tuned CGDA.
Fidl Volakh (Violin Melody)
Greek influences may be heard in this Yiddish piece. The two-part volakh
form is named for Wallachia, a region of southern Rumania famous for its Jewish
and Gypsy violinists.
Kacerac
A kolo (line dance) from Serbia.
Finf-un-Tsvantsiger (Twenty-Fiver)
A drunken wedding guest plies the klezmorim with money, exhorting them
to play his favorite song over and over.
| Bayt-zhe mir oys a finf-un-tsvantsiger Oyf samerodne drayer Un shpilt-zhe mir, klezmorimlakh, A lidele, a tayer. Bayt-zhe mir oys a finf-un-tsvantsiger Oyf samerodne firer Un shpilt-zhe mir, klezmorimlakh, Dos zelbige vi frier. Bayt-zhe mir oys a finf-un-tsvantsiger Oyf samerodne tsener Un shpilt-zhe mir, klezmorimlakh, Dos zelbige, nokh sheyner. Bayt-zhe mir oys a finf-un-tsvantsiger Oyf same imperyalen. Ikh vel betn di klezmorimlakh Zey zoln zikh nit aylen. |
Please change for me a twenty-fiver Into equal parts of three And play for me, little musicians, A precious little song. Please change for me a twenty-fiver Into equal parts of four And play for me, little musicians, The same one as before. Please change for me a twenty-fiver Into equal parts of ten And play for me, little musicians, The same one, but sweeter. Please change for me a twenty-fiver Into equal imperials. I will tell the little musicians They shouldn't hurry. |
Sherele (Little Scissors Dance)
A well-known Russian Jewish melody.
Sirba/Hora
Two Rumanian Yiddish dances from the International Hebrew Wedding Music
book compiled by violinist Wolff Kostakowsky in 1916. The first of these is
also known as Oyf a Khasene in Bessarabye (At a Wedding in
Bessarabia).
Di Grine Kuzine (The Greenhorn Cousin)
One of the Yiddish Theatre's most durable hits, this song by Yankel Lazerovich
spawned a horde of variations and parodies — including one in
Irish-American dialect. Some versions attained epic dimensions with numerous
stanzas detailing the young immigrant woman's disillusionment and premature
aging in the sweatshops of "Columbus' Land."
| Tzu mir iz gekumen a kuzine, Sheyn vi gold iz zi geven, di grine. Bekelakh vi royte pomerantsn, Fiselakh vos betn zikh tsum tantsn. Herelakh vi zaydn-veb gelokte, Tseyndelakh vi perelakh getokete, Eygelakh vi himl-bloy in friling, Lipelakh vi karshelakh a tsviling. Nisht gegangen iz zi, nor geshprungen, Nisht geret hot zi, nor gezungen. Lebedik un freylakh yede mine — Ot aza geven iz mayn kuzine! ...Un azoi ariber zaynen yoren; Fun mayn kuzine iz a tel gevoren. Peydes hot zi vokhnlang geklibn, Biz fun ir iz gornisht not geblibn. Haynt, az ikh bagegn mayn kuzine Un ikh freg ir: "'S makhstu epes, grine?" Ziftst zi op un 'kh'leyen in der mine: "Brenen zol Columbus's medine!" |
To me there came a cousin, Pretty as gold was she, the greenhorn. Cheeks like red oranges, Feet that just wanted to dance. Hair curly like a web of silk, Teeth like polished pearls, Eyes like heaven's blue in springtime, Lips like twin cherries. She did not walk, but skipped, She did not talk, but sang. Joyful and lively her every expression — Such a one was my cousin! ...And so passed the years; My cousin became a ruin. She gathered paychecks week by week Until nothing was left of her. Today, when I meet my cousin And I ask her: "How you doing, greenhorn?" She sighs and I read from her expression: "Columbus's land should only burn!" |
[Album credits:]
Recorded at 1750 Arch Street, Berkeley, California
on 21 December 1976, 13 January 1977, and 27 March 1977.
Cover art: Daniela Barnea
Cover design: Wayne Pope
Producer: Chris
Strachwitz
Recording and mixdown engineer: Bob Shumaker
Notes: Lev Liberman,
Director,
Archives of Music & Performing Arts, Judah L. Magnes Memorial Museum
Special thanks to: Martin Schwartz; Gil & Gerda Daley