A Concert with Shmuel: Preparing for Selichot in Jerusalem

This year I am trying to experience as much Israeli, and especially Dati Leumi, culture as I can. So when I saw that the Dati Leumi singer Shmuel was about to perform just a 15-minute walk from home this past Motzaei Shabbat, I couldn’t miss the opportunity.

Shmuel Perednik is relatively new on the Jewish music scene, primarily performing for the Dati Leumi community. He grew up in Efrat, studied at Otniel, and is now a 29-year-old married father of three. He had a couple of major hits three years ago: “Nekudot” (“Yesh lecha harbeh nekudot”) and the blockbuster “Ten Li Tefillah.”

But he has also produced dozens of other songs, including several released very recently that he played for us. This is an up-and-coming singer at the height of his creativity.

I didn’t go alone. I brought my nine-year-old daughter, in what may have been an ill-advised decision: a 10 p.m. concert on a school night – you gotta get up early for a regular day of school on Sunday mornings in Israel. She had a really great time, both enjoying the music and getting some father-daughter bonding time, so in retrospect it was probably worth the consequences of her sleep deprivation the next day.

A few things struck me about Shmuel as a singer.

First of all, his music is very explicitly about matters of faith. He uses the word “Mushgach,” referring to the idea that a person is under Divine providence, in many of his songs. His songs often address G-d directly, and he comes off as having a deeply religious soul and a strong sense of yearning.

At the same time, he is not afraid to challenge G-d. In “Ten Li Tefillah,” perhaps the most powerful part of the song is the way he inverts the opening theme at the end. He begins with “Ben adam, mah lecha nirdam,” “Person, why are you sleeping?” Wake up and call out to G-d! But he ends by calling out to G-d while drowning: “Ribbono shel olam, mah lecha nirdam,” “Master of the Universe, why are You sleeping?” Answer me! It is now not us who need to wake up but Hashem.

This is a striking charge against G-d. Although the song was originally formulated in early 2023, the words take on an entirely different force in the aftermath of October 7 and the ensuing war.

Shmuel’s religiosity is also very visible. Unlike two of the other popular singers in the Dati Leumi community, Ishay Ribo and Hanan Ben Ari, who are both clean-shaven and without long peyot, Shmuel has a fullish beard and long, curly peyot on the sides. His religiosity is not merely something expressed through his lyrics; he puts it front and center in his appearance as well.

Relatedly, there is a very clear Breslov and neo-chassidic influence on his music. Several of his songs refer to traveling to Breslov, and at the concert he told us that he had written one of the songs, inspired by Hitbodedut in Uman. This fits naturally with the overtly religious language, the emphasis on personal spiritual experience, and the very visible chassidic markers of his appearance.

Another interesting feature is the way Shmuel mixes traditional Jewish language with contemporary, spoken Hebrew. Ishay Ribo does this as well, but the effect feels different. Ribo often seems to be modernizing traditional language – certainly in some of his more liturgical-style songs, such as “Seder HaAvodah” or “Sibat HaSibot.” With Shmuel, by contrast it feels as though he is incorporating traditional language from davening or sefarim into his folksy, contemporary Hebrew lyrics.

More generally, Shmuel is much more personal in his expression. His songs are less about big ideas and more about his experience of the world and his relationship with G-d.

The concert itself was held at what is called the Yellow Submarine. There were only about 150 seats, so we had remarkable access to the singer, and it made for a great experience. The crowd was very into the music, often singing along – especially with the better-known songs. During “Nekudot,” for example, people enthusiastically counted along with the song’s enumeration of the “points,” or good qualities, that a person possesses: “Echad!” “Shtayim!” and so on.

And of course, everything led up to the final song, the fan favorite, “Ten Li Tefillah.” For this song, Shmuel had his musical accompaniment – piano, guitar, and drums – leave the stage. He sat down at the piano and sang the song himself, just as he does in the popular music video.

All of this would have been a great experience in itself. But it was particularly intriguing because the concert took place on the first night of Selichot and was meant as a sort of Selichot warm-up.

Several songs relevant to Selichot were performed, including “Keh Shema Evyonecha” and a medley of other seasonal songs. But Shmuel was very explicit that he wanted this to be a happy Selichot.

He specifically contrasted the stressed-out Elul, in which even the fish are supposedly shaking in fear, with the kind of happy Elul that he prefers. And his concert certainly reflected that approach.

Contrast this, for example, with Eitan Katz’s Elul music. His songs certainly include moments of inspiration, but they also feature minor keys and a much more somber and introspective approach.

Shmuel also shared some Torah. At one point he cited a teaching from Rabbi Tzadok about the idea that complete teshuvah is reached when a person realizes that even his sins are, in some sense, fully from Hashem. He did not explicate the idea much further, but it seemed representative of the particular version of Selichot that Shmuel was presenting: fundamentally positive rather than participating in an experience of guilt.

And perhaps that is what struck me most about the evening. Selichot is often associated with seriousness, fear, introspection, and the weight of judgment. Shmuel was offering something different: a religious experience that was emotional and spiritually intense without being gloomy.

It was, in its own way, a very Israeli religious experience – and one that I probably would not have encountered if I hadn’t happened to notice that a Dati Leumi singer was performing a 15-minute walk from my house.