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A Minnesota reggae band gave this Midwestern Jewish teenager the greatest gift of all
It’s late summer. Twelfth grade is starting in two weeks, and I — moody guy that I am — am in a particularly foul one when my friend Blair, who I’ve known since our mothers toted us around in strollers, calls me and tells me there’s a reggae band playing at the Lake Harriet bandshell in a few hours.
“Get your lazy butt outta bed,” he says.
Blair isn’t moody by nature. In fact, he’s happy most of the time, which is one of the reasons I’ve stayed friends with him so long. Seeing a reggae band does sound mildly appealing, even if it means I’ll have to get up and get dressed. An hour later, we’re at the bandshell, and my bad mood is threatening to become a thing of the past.
The sun is dropping fast, and the lake is exhaling mosquitoes, dark clouds of them lifting off the surface and drifting into a sky of pale green. There’s been a tornado watch all afternoon, the radio has been issuing steady warnings, but nobody seems to care. When Shangoya takes the stage, the world narrows to rhythm alone. When the band kicks in, the bass lands in my chest like a second heart. A brake shoe clangs, metal on metal, time being hammered into place. The singer, Aldrich Peter Nelson moves as if nothing in the world has ever resisted him. The music lifts me upward, presses me back down, pins me to the ground, then sends me into the air again.
For a moment, something in me lines up. Not control. Attention. A sense that if I don’t look away, I might be allowed to remain inside the feeling a little longer.
I could do that, I think. I should be up there blowing people away.
After the show, Blair tells me he needs to hightail it home before his 10:30 curfew. “Gimme a couple minutes,” I say. I spot the bass player, a fit-looking dude, around 35, rolling up his cables and wiping down a black Fender jazz bass.
“Hey, how ya doin’?” I say as I walk up to him. “I had a great time listening to you guys. I’m a guitarist, and I think you’d be a lot better with me up there. I could kick some ass, actually.”
He laughs. “How old are you den?”
“I’m seventeen,” I say.
“Me name’s Lloyd. And if ya tink you dat good, maybe I outta take ya numbah jus’ now. Shangoya’s been tinkin’ ’bout a second guitarist.”
I give him my number. I already had it written out.
Six months later, there’s a note on our kitchen table:
Babe, a guy named Roy with an accent called this afternoon and wants you to try out for his band.
Love, Mom
Given the malaise I’d been experiencing since my early graduation and my sentence working in the warehouse at Pickwick, the distribution center for every Musicland record store in the U.S., this news felt like manna from heaven. I wasn’t particularly concerned about the audition either. Since that night I saw Shangoya playing at the bandshell, the image of me up there on stage with them had stayed vivid in my mind. Becoming part of the band felt like a technicality.
On the night of the audition, there are at least a dozen players waiting in the living room of Aldrich Peter Nelson’s small house in South Minneapolis. Most of these guys are in their mid- to late 20s; a couple look like they might be pushing 40. They’re holding expensive guitars and sitting on first-rate amplifiers.
I’m here with the solid-state Kustom Challenger I bought four years earlier with my bar mitzvah money. It’s not exactly a youth model, but it’s certainly no first choice for any pro.
The sound is coming up from the basement. I can hear each player as he auditions.
The first guy is using the same Mu-Tron funk box Andre Cymone was killing me with last year, playing bass with Prince, at the New Year’s Eve show downtown — except this guy’s overusing it. He has no sense of perspective, and instead of adding color, it sounds murky and redundant.
The next player has incredible dexterity. No doubt he’s been woodshedding. For a second, I get a little concerned. After a minute, I relax. What he’s accomplished in speed and fluency, he fucks up with a complete lack of regard for the music itself. He’s stepping all over everything, coming in when he should lay out, drowning out Aldrich Peter Nelson when he’s in the middle of a verse. Instead of making music, this chump is just auditioning his chops.
Shangoya may not be made up of the best studio cats in the world, but they’re way too sensitive and soulful to fall for this.
The next guy heads downstairs. No worries here either. He seems nice enough, but he’s a prog-rocker. His stuff might work for a Genesis cover band, but it makes no sense in reggae or calypso.
Then someone calls up from the basement: “Petah, you ready?”
I pick up my Les Paul and my Challenger and head down.
It’s hot and cramped. The band is clearly in need of a break. Aldrich Peter Nelson smiles, but he’s tired.
“Can you play reggae, mon?” he asks.
“Hell yeah I can,” I say.
Carlos Roque, the drummer, counts off with four clicks of his sticks.
They start a slow groove in A minor. Good tempo. Just right for me.
I’ve never been a shredder. I like to make each note count. I don’t come in right away. I give myself space. I need air around the notes I’m about to release.
When I need some heat, I flick the Les Paul’s toggle to the rear pickup — that fat sound. Then I turn around and twist the Challenger’s volume knob all the way up. I won’t use all that gas, not yet, but I want it in reserve.
I start in with a stream of long Santana-esque notes, let them hang, then travel the neck.
I’m not messing around this evening, not making slick noise. I’m playing things that mean something — sounds that tell the story of a soul in exile. I feel like I’m homing in on an echo, a burgeoning need to return to center, to find bliss, to fly. I want out of the past months, out of the emptiness weighing me down. I’m not auditioning anymore. I’m doing this for myself.
When I need more volume, I take it. The Challenger wasn’t built for this. It sounds like it’s about to blow apart. I hope it does. Right here in this basement, while I imagine the other guys upstairs are quivering, helpless in fear.
When the music stops, Aldrich Peter Nelson smiles — and this time the smile stays.
“What ya tink you can bring to de band if we hire you all jus’ now?” he asks.
I grab a paper towel and wipe my face.
“You see that little amplifier?” I say, pointing to the Challenger. “When I’m onstage with you guys — and I will be — it’s gonna shoot flames.”
The whole band laughs.
I’m not offended. I know what they’re thinking. I’d think the same thing. Who is this 17-year-old white Jewish prick? They can’t control themselves. I get it. It’s overwhelming to witness a true believer.
I played with Shangoya for a little over a year. At that age, a year felt like a long time. The Challenger didn’t shoot flames, not exactly. But it amplified a lot of my guitar playing on stages across Minnesota, Wisconsin and Iowa. I even got to perform a few of my original reggae songs, “Get a Grip” being one of them. It became the B-side of Shangoya’s first single.
To this day, that experience — not just the musical one, but the experience of being accepted into a culture far from my own — remains an incredible gift. Aside from being one of the few Americans, a Jew no less, invited to feel in my bones the rhythms of the Caribbean, I was also, as a young man, embraced warmly by these people, these lifelong friends.
This has meant everything to me.
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Staunch Israel supporter Coons expected to win Delaware Democratic Senate primary handily
(JTA) — Delaware incumbent Sen. Chris Coons, a longtime supporter of Israel, is expected to easily win Delaware’s U.S. Senate primary on Tuesday, despite criticism from party progressives.
Coons, a mainstay of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, has repeatedly backed measures to bolster Israel’s capacity for self-defense. He also joined a bipartisan delegation to visit Israel immediately after the October 7, 2023, Hamas attacks.
But the senator has faced pushback in recent months for his refusal to back measures that would cut military aid to Israel.
This past spring, he was one of just seven Democrats to join Republicans in voting against a resolution authored by independent Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders, which sought to stop the sale of military bulldozers to Israel. Coons was among just 11 Democrats who opposed a second Sanders resolution that proposed similar sales bans on massive bombs and other defense equipment.
Coons has served nearly three terms in the Senate. He won a special election in 2010, about a year after Joe Biden resigned to become U.S. vice president, and then went on to secure two full terms in 2014 and 2020.
In Tuesday’s primary, he will face off against artificial intelligence systems builder and historian Jeff Appelhans, naval architect and marine engineer Mary Louve and a former business executive who changed his legal name from Eric Hansen to E. No-Trump Hansen.
While Coons has earned endorsements from establishment Democrats, such as Delaware Sen. Lisa Blunt Rochester and Gov. Matt Meyer, he has drawn criticism from party progressives for both his support of Israel and the financial backing he gets from the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, the pro-Israel lobbying group.
Of Coons’s opponents, the most vocal critic on Israel-related policy has been Appelhans, whose campaign priorities included ending U.S. support for Israel’s war in Gaza. Appelhans slammed Coons for voting against the Sanders bills, writing on his campaign site that “the liberal consensus moved to block the sales.”
Appelhans condemned Coons’s voting record on “moving armaments to Israel,” noting in a recent interview that “there’s never been a vote that he’s stopped” on this issue. He was speaking with Delaware Public Media last week as part of a series of candidate interviews.
Regarding the conflict in Iran, Appelhans slammed “Congress’ unwillingness” to challenge the president, noting that “there was very much a sense that Israel would be a staunch ally and they could sort of get this done really easily.”
In the same radio series, another candidate, Louve, expressed uncertainty as to “why we’re still backing Israel,” while acknowledging the country’s history as a U.S. ally.
“Is it worth us continuing to step up for a bully?” she asked. “It’s aggression that is unnecessary that’s continuing to escalate because we’re helping it.”
Hansen did not participate in these conversations, Delaware Public Media stated.
This summer Coons pledged to stop taking donations from the data company Palantir, which has come under scrutiny for its work with the Israel’s Defense Ministry, the U.S. military and U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, according to the nonprofit news site Spotlight Delaware.
Despite his more centrist reputation, Coons has had significant criticism for the Trump administration’s strategies in Iran. In his own Delaware Public Media interview, Coons accused the president of selling the conflict “as a cheap, quick war.”
While little polling data was available ahead of Tuesday’s race, the Polymarket predictions site gave Coons a 99.7% chance of winning as of Monday evening. In his last primary in 2020, Coons defeated a progressive opponent, Jessica Scarane, with nearly 73% of voter support.
Regardless of Tuesday’s outcome, the victor is expected to easily defeat the Republican challenger in the November general election, with the Cook Political Report deeming Delaware “solid” Democratic territory.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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Noah Wyle wins an Emmy for playing one of TV’s most Jewish doctors
(JTA) — Noah Wyle on Monday night won his second consecutive Emmy for playing Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch on “The Pitt.” The win also marked a second victory for one of television’s more fully realized Jewish characters.
The actor won Outstanding Lead Actor in a Drama Series for the HBO Max medical drama, which also won Outstanding Drama Series for the second year in a row. In his acceptance speech, Wyle recalled growing up in Los Angeles and said, “This is all I’ve ever wanted to do, and this is the only club I’ve ever wanted to join.”
For Jewish viewers, the significance of Wyle’s victory goes beyond the actor’s own Jewish ancestry. In the first season, Robby was seen reciting the Shema at one of his lowest moments, turning what might have been a throwaway piece of character background into an intimate expression of fear and faith.
In the second season, Wyle, who is also a writer and executive producer on the show, pushed that dimension further. An episode he wrote dealt with the trauma of the 2018 Tree of Life synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh, while also exploring Robby’s complicated relationship with his Jewish faith.
Wyle has described Robby’s faith as something he is still “grappling” with — including the question of whether he has faith at all. The Shema scene, he said, functioned almost like a child’s primal plea for help.
Wyle was not the only Jewish winner of the night. Saul Metzstein, the Scottish Jewish director whose father was the prominent modernist architect Isi Metzstein, won Outstanding Directing for a Drama Series for “Slow Horses.” Metzstein had been competing against Wyle, who was nominated for directing an episode of “The Pitt.”
Those two wins were among the relatively few Jewish victories at this year’s ceremony. Jewish actors including Jason Segel, Lisa Kudrow, Harrison Ford and Hannah Einbinder were among the nominees but did not win in their categories.
“Nobody Wants This,” the Netflix show about a rabbi’s romance with a non-Jewish podcaster, was nominated for Outstanding Comedy Series but lost to “Widow’s Bay.”
An Emmy was also awarded to a Jewish actor and director whose death in 2025 stunned the industry and a legion of fans. Rob Reiner, who was killed in December with his wife, Michele, won a posthumous Emmy for his guest role as a kind dispenser of business advice on “The Bear.” Reiner’s award was presented at the Creative Arts Emmys earlier this month, rather than Monday’s televised ceremony.
Reiner, before going on to direct Hollywood classics like “This Is Spinal Tap,” “The Princess Bride” and “When Harry Met Sally” won his first two Emmy awards in 1974 and 1978 for playing Mike Stivic, the liberal son-in-law of Archie Bunker on “All in the Family.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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NAZA exposes Israel’s crisis of credibility over Gaza
More than two decades ago, when I was the The Associated Press bureau chief for Israel, the West Bank and Gaza, the Israeli military called off an attack on a senior Hamas leader after learning at the last moment that family members and children were inside the targeted building.
What stayed with me was what happened next. The military sent a senior officer to my office to explain the decision.
This was during the Second Intifada, the murderous explosion of terrorism launched by armed Palestinians after Israel had offered the Palestinian Authority an independent state in over 90 percent of the territory it sought. Hamas leaders sent suicide bombers into Israel on a daily basis to blow up buses, restaurants, malls, cafes. I checked for explosives whenever I got into my car, perhaps with my little daughters, Maya and Noa.
Yet Israeli officials understood that demonstrating concern for civilian life was part of maintaining the country’s credibility. Maybe they also thought that concern for innocent life, even on the enemy side, was the Jewish thing to do. I want to believe this, as both a Jew and as a manager who had colleagues in Gaza, some of whom were hurt over the years.
That memory returned to me amid the uproar surrounding NAZA, the new documentary by Israeli filmmakers Yuval Abraham and Rachel Szor, who shared in the 2024 Oscar for No Other Land, a critique of Israel’s practices in the West Bank.
The new film, which premiered at the Venice Film Festival and won the Special Jury Prize, is titled after the Hebrew acronym for “collateral damage” (and is also a play on “Gaza”). It examines Israel’s targeting practices in Gaza through testimony from 24 Israeli soldiers and intelligence personnel who allege the IDF used artificial intelligence.
Some of those soldiers, the filmmakers say, operated or helped design the AI systems at the center of the film. Their identities are concealed in various ways, yet their testimony portrays a disturbing picture about how technology, intelligence and estimates of civilian casualties intersected in decisions to strike.
The reaction in Israel has been ferocious. Culture Minister Miki Zohar – from the governing Likud Party led by Benjamin Netanyahu – has called the filmmakers traitors and raised the prospect of revoking their citizenship.
Former football star and prominent television personality Eyal Berkovic has similarly argued that loss of citizenship should be the best-case scenario for Israelis who harm their country. As the film moves beyond Venice, efforts to prevent its screening in Israel seem likely.
That reaction creates a sad irony. One of the strongest criticisms of NAZA is that its highly combustible testimony comes from anonymous sources – and that is a valid criticism indeed. Yet threats directed at the filmmakers offer a fairly vivid illustration of why soldiers and intelligence officers making explosive allegations about their own military might fear speaking publicly. The filmmakers say anonymity was necessary to protect people who could face serious consequences for revealing classified information. I can credibly assess they’d end up in jail.
Nonetheless, the anonymity remains a serious weakness. Claims that are this grave demand intense scrutiny, and viewers have limited means of establishing whether the witnesses held the positions they claim, possessed the knowledge they describe or represent the targeting system accurately. The IDF has challenged precisely this aspect of the film and rejected its portrayal of Israeli targeting practices.
That said, and not for the first time, the military is more reasonable than the government and the IDF’s spokesman invited the filmmakers to screen it for the military. A detailed military response to the evidence presented in NAZA would provide an essential counterweight.
The central dispute also reaches beyond whether Israel used artificial intelligence. The IDF says decisions to select and approve strikes are made by human personnel. The more consequential question is what information those people received and what weight they gave to civilian lives when making those decisions. If a system identified a Hamas operative inside a residential building, what level of civilian harm was considered acceptable in order to kill him? To what degree was AI part of the decision-making process?
Amid a global uproar over fears of AI, and in particular systems operating independently in ways that harm humans, this film catapults such questions to a very high place in the global discourse.
The AI questions lead to others. Did the permissible number of civilian casualties change according to the importance of the target? How confident did intelligence officers have to be that the intended person was actually present? What happened when information indicated that children or other family members were inside? How frequently did commanders cancel strikes because the expected civilian toll had become too high?
NAZA offers disturbing answers, and its central concern is ultimately a human one: what values and tolerances were built into the targeting process, and how were they applied by the people responsible for approving strikes?
Israel, this time around, has provided only a limited public account of those calculations during the war. Officials have emphasized the extraordinary difficulties of fighting Hamas in densely populated Gaza, the organization’s use of civilian areas for military purposes and Israeli estimates of a civilian-to-combatant casualty ratio that they say compares favorably with other episodes of urban warfare, including Mosul. The precise civilian death toll in Gaza also remains contested, particularly the division between civilians and combatants.
There is no doubt in my mind – none whatsoever – that Hamas is the embodiment of evil. It is obvious to anyone paying attention that the jihadist group engineered the entire war to maximize casualties on its own side in order to make Israel an international pariah. But it is also rather obvious by Israel’s conduct in the war and the tens of thousands of civilians who have died, that Israel to walked into the trap laid by Hamas.
Aggregate ratios tell only part of the story. They reveal little about why a particular building was struck, how many civilians were expected to be inside, what military advantage commanders anticipated or how that anticipated advantage was weighed against the likely human cost. Repeated incidents involving substantial civilian casualties have often been followed by broad explanations rather than detailed accounts of the decision-making that produced them. Foreign journalists, of course, have not been freely allowed in.
That is where my memory from more than 20 years ago feels especially relevant. The military that sent an officer to my office understood the value of a transparent process. It understood that credibility depended partly on demonstrating, in specific cases, that civilian lives carried meaningful weight in operational decisions. During the Gaza war, amid extraordinary civilian loss of life, that instinct has been far less visible, to say the least.
Why did Israel act this way? Part of it has to do with the unspeakable trauma of the Oct. 7 Hamas invasion and massacre, which left Israelis in no mood for explanations, and placed its government in a defensive posture. Part of it is the nature of that government – an ultranationalist assemblage of highly illiberal and astoundingly cynical politicians. And part of it is the global demonization targeting Israel – so thorough and unfair that it almost explains the surrender of any serious effort at PR.
None of this was smart. The resulting information vacuum has given NAZA much of its power. A documentary built substantially around anonymous testimony carries an obvious credibility burden, particularly when its allegations concern classified practices that outsiders have little ability to examine independently. Yet Israel’s sparse public accounting of its targeting decisions has left relatively little detailed evidence against which those accounts can be measured. The filmmakers have supplied one version of what happened inside the targeting system; a detailed Israeli account could provide another.
Demonizing a couple of filmmakers based on the idea that they meant to do Israel harm will not convince intelligent people and will deepen Israel’s isolation. Israel needs to explain to its own people how it failed so utterly to protect the massacre of Jews. It needs to explain to the world what went on in Gaza. In fact, it needs to explain that to its own people as well.
All of that will await another government. This will not come from Netanyahu.
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