Eitan Katz just released a new album. That gave me as good a reason as any to finally reach out to him, though I have wanted to interview him for some time.
Katz is not only a singer – he is also a ben Torah, and that is reflected in his music. He has his own musical style which reminds me of Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach. His music centers on acoustic instruments: strings, flute, percussion, and acoustic guitar. When you see him perform, he almost always has a guitar hanging over his shoulder. His brother, Rabbi Shlomo Katz, is also a musician (and a rabbi) in Israel.
So, we had a video call where we discussed his music, his story, and music in general. Katz is a very busy musician. He performs in concerts, at weddings, and more. So, one call was not enough, and I spoke to him again while he was traveling to a concert. As you know, I like to dig deep in my interviews – to get each musician’s perspective on music and Jewish music in particular. And Katz has a very interesting view on the subject. I mostly agreed with what he had to say.
Katz has this unique feature that his music speaks to a wide range of people. His audience is a mix of Modern Orthodox and yeshivish. His newest album, Live In Jerusalem 4, has some songs that many will be familiar with. It’s a powerful album and you can feel the energy – partly because there’s a live audience in the background adding to the atmosphere.
Don’t miss “Simcha L’artzecha” (also featuring Avshalom Katz and Shlomo Katz). It took me back many years. And of course, “Everlasting Love.” What a performance! By the way, I thought Katz had composed this song. But during our interview, he corrected me, explaining that it’s actually an old song. Other songs I liked in the new album are “Nachamu Ami” and “Elul Niggun.”
Before we start to speak about his music, I ask Katz about his collaboration with his brother, Rabbi Shlomo Katz.
“Before music, we are best friends and brothers,” he tells me.
Occasionally they will perform together, yet most of the time each performs by himself. They each have their own unique style. As mentioned above, Katz’s music is very acoustic. He plays nigunim, including Chabad tunes – music which touches the neshama. He says he’s “obsessed” with the power niggunim have to touch the heart. What does that mean to him? He says the music makes you do something meaningful. It’s important to him, and that’s why he doesn’t do disco, for example.
Speaking of disco, it’s time to discuss my favorite topic with musicians: trends in Jewish music and the penetration of trance and dance beats into Jewish music. Spoiler: Katz totally agrees with me.
He is completely against the trend of dance and disco in Jewish music. We are a very lost generation, he says. The dance style does not fulfill the purpose of Jewish music.
For the purpose of kiruv, it’s OK, he says. If you can bring non-affiliated Jews to listen to Jewish music through these beats, that’s fine. But even for kiruv, there should be a border.
“I think we lost our minds,” Katz says, speaking of the Jewish music industry. The word “inspiration” has become cheap. Electronic dance music is not in the ruach of Jewish music. It’s addictive. You get lost in it very quickly.
His music is sincere. Music is not just entertainment, he says. Yes, it should be professionally done, and you need the element of entertainment. But music also needs meaningful content.
Katz’s rule is that he only releases music which he feels he can bring to his rabbi to listen to and not be embarrassed.
Unfortunately, today there’s an element of “something for everyone.” Everything mixed together. It’s music which speaks to the lowest common denominator. Katz’s style is less aggressive; it speaks more to the element of peace of mind. No matter the style, he says, the important thing is that your singing is an interpretation of the words, not a contradiction. For example, you can look at a pasuk in Tehillim and understand the words, but there’s also the inner spirit of the words which you need to feel in your heart, and that makes the tefillah very different.
When Katz sings, he really feels that he’s praying while singing. Obviously, not with every song. But this is his general direction: to create music through which you can connect to Hashem.
Katz sees music as a powerful motivator that fills us with simcha, infuses our lives with spirituality, and connects people of all types in an emotional experience like none other.
He was born in L.A. where he lived until age seven. Then the family moved to Israel and settled in Raanana. When he was fourteen, though, the family moved back to the U.S. His father is a cantor. There was always a piano in the house, and the family often listened to chasidic music. At age ten, Katz took some piano lessons, but not seriously. It didn’t take.
The first time he heard about Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach was when he saw his mother with a tear in her eye when it was posted in the newspaper that the singing rabbi had passed away. On Carlebach’s first yahrzeit, Katz traveled to Tel Aviv with his brother and friends. Then they returned to Los Angeles, and in 11th grade he started to play guitar, following in the footsteps of his brother Shlomo. Once he started playing guitar, he began to compose. After he got married, he turned music into a profession.
His father produced the first album that he and his brother Shlomo created in 1999-2000. When he returned from yeshiva in 2002, he and his brother released another album together, called Biglal Avos. After his wedding in 2005, he released his first solo album, L’maancha.
Katz has continued to learn in yeshiva throughout his musical career, and he credits his learning for being the inspiration for his music. He travels throughout the United States, spending Shabbos in different Jewish communities, leading the davening, sharing Divrei Torah, and ending Shabbos with a moving kumzitz.
At home, he grew up on Deveykus, which had a big influence on his music. That’s where the softness in his music comes from. That, and Rabbi Carlebach. He wanted to compose like Carlebach – but not to copy. When he was listening to Carlebach music, he found that it elevated him in ruchniyut (spirituality). He felt something different there that he tried to translate into his own music when he composed.
Katz does not write lyrics. He tried in the past, but feels he never had that talent. So, he mostly composes to pesukim.
What’s his process?
Composing is not something he can do on demand. When inspiration comes, it comes, he explains. When a new tune comes to his mind, he’ll pull out his phone and record it and save it. Then, he’ll sing it with other people, and eventually he’ll record the song. It’s not an organized process, more of an intuitive one.
Katz has released 18 albums so far. He is already working on his next album.