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From shtetl to synth: How Yiddish electronica found its rhythm
Yiddish music has always evolved — from the shtetl to the stage, and now to the synth. For some time now a new wave of artists has been bringing its spirit into the digital age. Across clubs from Montreal to New York, artists are remixing old-world melodies into the digital soundscape of the 21st century. It’s not nostalgia. It’s a pulse.
Two of the most innovative voices in this movement, Josh “Socalled” Dolgin and Chaia, are proving that Yiddish isn’t just surviving — it’s vibrating with life. Dolgin, the Canadian producer and musician who pioneered Yiddish hip-hop, began his journey far from any shtetl. Growing up in Chelsea, Quebec, as the only Jewish kid in school, he fell in love with funk and hip hop in the early 1990s. It was a subculture that felt both strange and electric, and he saw it as funk for a new era. When he discovered sampling he found his voice.
One day in a thrift store, he stumbled upon a record by Aaron Lebedeff, the Yiddish theater composer and singer best known for the song “Romania, Romania.”Between each verse were beautiful, hooky orchestral bars that inspired him to blend Yiddish music with hip hop. Mixing those breaks into beats became a way of reclaiming Jewish identity and discovering his own culture.
Two decades later, Dolgin teaches at McGill University while continuing to perform and record. He notes that Yiddish electronica isn’t a new wave — it has existed for more than 20 years — but access has transformed it. Back then, he worked with a sampler that could record only a few seconds of sound; now, everyone has a studio on their phone, able to explore Yiddish identity anywhere and at anytime.
Dolgin doesn’t see the music as a gimmick or cultural experiment. “I don’t want to force-feed audiences my work to make a point,” he explained. “The music does the speaking. If it slaps, it slaps.” His listeners range from non-Jewish Europeans to Jews rediscovering their roots. Creating a contemporary sound infused with history, he said, is rewarding — even if most Jews today aren’t deeply engaged with Yiddish culture.“I just wanted to show that this music can be on the same level as any of the great world music traditions.”
For a younger generation, including Brooklyn-based producer and accordionist Chaia, that same impulse has taken on new urgency and political resonance. Like Dolgin, she began in klezmer before turning toward electronic sound. In her teens, she played accordion in a community klezmer band. Later, while studying under klezmer revival pioneer Hankus Netsky at the New England Conservatory, she began experimenting with his vast archive of field recordings. Netsky had dozens of laptops filled with interviews and Yiddish songs, and Chaia started digitally altering them and blending them with the techno she heard in Boston’s underground clubs.
Her first track, “Oy Mamenyu,” reworked short clips of people talking that she took from real recordings or archives and mixed them to music (in Chaia’s case, a clip about women in the shtetl). The sound was hypnotic — traditional Yiddish phrasing layered over minimalist electronic beats. Soon, other musicians were following suit. In 2022, Chaia launched a festival afterparty called Kleztronica, a night devoted to Yiddish-electronic fusion. She expected just a few friends; instead, hundreds of people showed up.
The event was intentionally political and unapologetically queer. “We sang songs from the Jewish Labor Bund and shouted ‘Down with the police’ in Yiddish,” she said. Since then, she has hosted a dozen Kleztronica nights and expanded into a broader series called Diasporic Techno Night, where each artist samples music from their own heritage. “By celebrating our own diasporas, we can be in solidarity with one another,” she explained.
She describes her tracks not as futuristic but as portals. “I’m pulling voices of people who are no longer here and using them like time travel machines,” she said. “If our ancestors envisioned solidarity and liberation, why can’t we say the same now?”
Her most recent album, Yiddish Electronic, released this year, takes that idea to new height. Each track reimagines a folk song through layers of archival sound — recordings of singers, drummers, cantors and even spoken reflections on trauma. She hopes listeners can “feel the ancestral magic” in her songs, hearing “something they recognize and something they’ve never imagined together.”
Both Dolgin and Chaia are clear about one thing: fusion isn’t easy. “Fusion is dangerous and mostly sucks,” Dolgin said bluntly. “To make it work, you have to love both genres and know them deeply. You can’t just slap one onto the other.” Dolgin also stresses that to mess with tradition, you have to know it first. Chaia agrees, noting that her approach is grounded in years of study and respect for source material. “We both make sure the Yiddish is exact — the intonation, the phrasing,” she said.
Despite their different generations, the two musicians share a common mission: to keep Yiddish vibrant without turning it into a museum piece. Dolgin does it through funk and humor; Chaia through radical techno and activism. Both see Yiddish as a living language of resistance.
“Music can be fun and funny, but also tragic and heart-wrenching,” Dolgin reflected. “That mix of laughter and tears — it’s what klezmer always did best.”
Related article: https://forward.com/culture/554470/kaia-berman-peters-klezmer-edm-jewish-dance-music-kleztronica/
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He may have been the world’s most famous mime, but in this play, he won’t shut up
There is a kind of sublime poetry in Marcel Marceau’s first act.
As a young man in occupied France, Marceau (then Mangel) forged identity papers and shepherded dozens of Jewish children across the Alps to Switzerland. In scenarios where staying quiet was essential for survival, Marceau soothed his charges into silence with his own.
In Marcel on the Train, Ethan Slater and Marshall Pailet’s play of Marceau’s pre-Bip life, the world’s most famous mime is anything but silent.
The action of the play, which bounces through time back to Marcel’s father’s butcher shop and forward to a P.O.W. camp in Vietnam (don’t ask), unfolds over the course of a train ride. Slater’s Marceau is chaperoning four 12-year-old orphans, posing as boy scouts going on a hike.
The kids — played by adults — are a rambunctious lot. Marceau tries to put them at ease juggling invisible swords, performing Buster Keaton-esque pratfalls and exhausting his arsenal of Jewish jokes that circle stereotypes of Jewish mothers or, in one case, a certain mercenary business sense.
Pailet and Slater’s script toggles uncomfortably between poignancy and one-liners with a trickle of bathroom humor (the phrase “pee bucket” recurs more often than you would think.)
The terror of Marceau’s most melancholy escortee, Berthe (Tedra Millan) is undercut somewhat by her early, anachronistic-feeling declaration, “Wow, we’re so fucked.” The bumptious Henri (Alex Wyse) would seem to be probing a troubled relationship with Jewishness and passing, but does that discussion a disservice when he mentions how it wouldn’t be the biggest deal if he “sieged a little heil.” Adolphe (Max Gordon Moore) is described as “an exercise in righteousness” in the script’s character breakdown. Sure, let’s go with that.
The presence of a mute child, Etiennette (Maddie Corman), is tropey and obvious. It doesn’t suggest that she inspired him to abandon speaking in his performances, but it doesn’t dismiss that possibility either.
But the chattiness and contrived functions of the fictive children are made more disappointing by the imaginative staging maneuvering around the shtick. Slater, best known for his role in the Wicked films and as Spongebob in the titular Broadway musical, is a gifted physical performer.
When things quiet down, Pailet’s direction, and the spare set by scenic designer Scott Davis, create meadows of butterflies. Chalk allows Marceau to achieve a kind of practical magic when he writes on the fourth wall. One of the greatest tricks up the show’s sleeve is Aaron Serotsky who plays everyone from Marceau’s father and his cousin Georges to that familiar form of Nazi who takes his torturous time in sniffing out Jews.
Surely the play means to contrast silence and sound (sound design is by Jill BC Du Boff), but I couldn’t help but wonder what this might have looked like as a pantomime.
While the story has been told before, perhaps most notably in the 2020 film Resistance with Jesse Eisenberg, Slater and Pailet were right to realize its inherent stage potential. It’s realized to a point, though their approach at times leans into broad comedy that misunderstands the sensibilities of its subject.
Like Slater, who learned of the mime’s story just a few years ago, Marceau was an early acolyte of Keaton and Chaplin. But by most accounts he cut a more controlled figure — that of a budding artist, not a kid workshopping Borscht Belt bits on preteens.
The show ends with a bittersweet montage of Bip capturing butterflies (not jellyfish — you will probably not be reminded of Mr. Squarepants). It means to frame Marceau’s established style as a maturation that nonetheless retains a kind of innocence, stamped by the kids he rescued.
“You’ll live,” Berthe tells him in a moment of uncertainty. “But I don’t think you’ll grow up.”
In Marceau there was, of course, a kind of Peter Pan. But there’s a difference between being childlike and being sophomoric.
Marcel on the Train is playing through March 26 at Classic Stage Company in New York. Tickets and more information can be found here.
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US soldier who protected Jews in POW camp during WWII to be awarded Medal of Honor
(JTA) — An American soldier who is credited with saving the lives of 200 Jewish comrades in a prisoner of war camp in Germany during World War II will receive the U.S. military’s highest decoration, the Medal of Honor.
The award to Roddie Edmonds, who died in 1985, was announced last week. It comes more than a decade after Israel’s Holocaust memorial, Yad Vashem, recognized him as a “Righteous Among the Nations” for his bravery and six years after President Donald Trump recounted his heroism during a Veterans Day parade.
Edmonds, a sergeant from Knoxville, Tennessee, was the highest-ranking soldier among a group taken prisoner during the Battle of the Bulge in January 2045 when the Nazis asked him to identify the Jews in the group. Understanding that anyone he identified would likely be killed, Edmonds made the decision to have all of the soldiers present themselves as Jews.
When a Nazi challenged him, he famously proclaimed: “We are all Jews here!”
The show of solidarity came to light only after Edmonds’ death, when a Jewish man who had been among the soldiers at the camp shared his recollection with the New York Times as part of an unrelated 2008 story about his decision to sell a New York City townhouse to Richard Nixon when Nixon was having trouble buying an apartment following his resignation as president.
When they found the article several years later, it was the first that Edmonds’ family, including his pastor son Christ Edmonds and his granddaughters, had heard about the incident. Soon they were traveling to Washington, D.C., and Israel for ceremonies honoring Edmonds, one of only five Americans to be credited as Righteous Among the Nations, an honor bestowed by Israel on non-Jews who aided Jews during the Holocaust.
As the family campaigned for a Medal of Honor, Edmonds was also the recipient of bipartisan praise from two American presidents.
“I cannot imagine a greater expression of Christianity than to say, I, too, am a Jew,” President Barack Obama said during remarks at the Israeli embassy in Washington, D.C., on International Holocaust Remembrance Day in 2016.
Three years later, President Donald Trump recounted the story at the New York City Veterans Day Parade. “That’s something,” he said. “Master Sergeant Edmonds saved 200 Jewish-Americans — soldiers that day.”
Last week, Trump called Chris Edmonds to invite him to the White House to receive the Medal of Honor on his father’s behalf, Chris Edmonds told local news outlets. The Medal of Honor ceremony is scheduled for March 2.
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Jewish hockey star Jack Hughes’ overtime goal propels US to historic gold medal in Olympic hockey
(JTA) — Jewish hockey star Jack Hughes scored the game-winning goal Sunday to clinch a gold medal for the U.S. men’s hockey team, its first since 1980.
The New Jersey Devils star center, who had scored twice in Team USA’s semifinal win, sent the puck between the legs of Canadian goaltender Jordan Binnington 1:41 into overtime to give the American team a 2-1 win.
“This is all about our country right now. I love the USA,” Hughes told NBC. “I love my teammates.”
The win broke a 46-year Olympic drought for Team USA, which had not taken gold since the famous “Miracle on Ice” team that upset the Soviet Union on its way to gold in 1980. The United States also won in 1960.
“He’s a freaking gamer,” Quinn Hughes, Jack’s older brother and U.S. teammate said, according to The Athletic. “He’s always been a gamer. Just mentally tough, been through a lot, loves the game. American hero.”
Quinn Hughes is a defender for the Minnesota Wild and a former captain of the Vancouver Canucks who won the NHL’s top defenseman award in 2024. He was also named the best defender in the Olympic tournament by the International Ice Hockey Federation after scoring an overtime goal to send the U.S. team to the semifinals.
The third Jewish member of the U.S. team, Boston Bruins goaltender Jeremy Swayman, won the one game he played, a Feb. 14 preliminary-round victory over Denmark.
The Hughes family — rounded out by youngest brother Luke, who also plays for the Devils — has long been lauded as a Jewish hockey dynasty. They are the first American family to have three siblings picked in the first round of the NHL draft, and Jack was the first Jewish player to go No. 1 overall. They are also the first trio of Jewish brothers to play in the same NHL game and the first brothers to earn cover honors for EA Sports’ popular hockey video game.
Jack, who had a bar mitzvah, has said his family celebrated Passover when he was growing up. Their mother, Ellen Weinberg-Hughes, who is Jewish, represented the U.S. women’s hockey team at the 1992 Women’s World Championships and was on the coaching staff of the gold-medal-winning women’s team in Milan. Weinberg-Hughes is also a member of the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame.
Hughes’ golden goal ushered in a burst of Jewish pride on social media, with one user calling it “the greatest Jewish sports moment of all time.” The Hockey News tweeted that Hughes was “the first player in hockey history to have a Bar Mitzvah and a Golden Goal! Pretty cool!”
Jewish groups and leaders also jumped on the praise train. “Special shout out to @jhugh86 on scoring the game-winning goal!” tweeted Jonathan Greenblatt, CEO of the Anti-Defamation League. “Beyond his incredible skill on the ice, Jack makes history as a proud representative of the American Jewish community, reminding us that the Jewish people are interwoven into America in her 250th year! Mazel Tov, Jack!”
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