Interview with Peter Himmelman
Peter Himmelman is a singer-songwriter, composer, visual artist, award-winning author, and founder of Big Muse.
On the Road
Contents
Max Raskin: How do you feel about touring?
Peter Himmelman: Let's say there's sort of a 95/5 ratio going on there. The 5% of the time I'm on stage is so pleasurable, so fulfilling that it overwhelms the 95% that it takes to get there.
MR: How terrible is the 95%?
PH: No, it's not terrible at all. It’s no worse than any sort of traveling, especially if I'm traveling with a group of musicians. It's like being in a kind of summer camp. There's a lot of camaraderie. There’s also more laughter there than there is in my regular life. You get tired on the road, you wake up early for radio interviews, go to bed late. And when you're tired, things just seem funnier, paradoxes appear everywhere. There's also an opportunity to learn a lot of things. One of the things we’d do on tour, say in the '90s, which I haven't had that chance to do lately, was to go children's hospitals in towns like Chicago and Los Angeles and play for the kids. The idea of waking up early was initially met with a certain amount groaning from the band. That one thing about doing something like that is that it really puts you in the right mood for performing, not so much by playing for the kids who are just easy and fun to play for. But especially, when you’d see the faces of the parents. These are people going through a truly traumatic experience. Being in that environment gives you a reality check. It shows you a where you are in your own life, and where the level of things that you complain about should rest —which is around zero. It mostly shows you the power of music to uplift and provide hope to people.
MR: I don't think you think about success in the way that most musicians think about success. Would you say that that's accurate?
PH: Well, first of all, I don't really know how people think about success. If I were to answer, it would be pure guesswork. Success does entail going out and making money. That's a real piece. Anyone that says it doesn't is not telling the truth, in my opinion. There's also a certain amount of energy that comes with being famous at one level or another. I wouldn't say the energy is necessarily good or pleasant. I know that it’s something that many people strive for.
MR: Do you recommend to young people, if you were talking to young people, do you recommend they become famous?
PH: Well, no. Not at all.
Jews Like Blues
MR: How much time a day do you spend playing guitar?
PH: It varies. There've been times where I've gone weeks without playing. If I’m not in heavy practice mode, I at least try to pick up the guitar every day, if only for a few minutes.
MR: When was the last time you played guitar?
PH: Last night.
MR: What did you play?
PH: Well, I was jamming with the great drummer, Sammy Miller. It was a lot of quality time spent keeping stride with Sammy’s incredibly innovative drum work. Sammy has three qualities, which make him a superb player: He knows how to listen and how to absorb what he’s hearing. He has technical mastery, which allows him to play in any style at any tempo and in any time signature. Lastly, he has two important gifts: the creative courage to find his unique voice as a music-maker, and a cognizance of where his gifts derive from, which is the Highest Power, or God, if you prefer.
MR: What was the first song you were playing?
PH: I started off with a John Lee Hooker-esque blues riff. That feel is just something I really respond to, and even as a young kid, I always gravitated towards.
MR: Why did Jews like blues?
PH: I was once playing in the Soviet Union in 1988, a very propitious and strange tour of the Caucasus region in the former Soviet Union. I recall a nationwide radio interview in which I was asked, "What do you like about the Soviet rock music?" I said, “I haven't heard much of it, but the stuff that I did hear didn't really move me.” And then, I made this offhand comment: "You don't have many blacks in the Soviet Union, and you repress the Jews. So it's no wonder that your rock music suffers."
I think the main thing is that blues kind of runs in a sort of a minor harmony. There's a flatted third. It has a melancholy quality, the blues, just like much of the Ashkenazi Jewish music that many Jews imbibed in their synagogues growing up. Despite the seeming sadness of the two styles, they both have a triumphant and resilient strength. It's powerful stuff.
MR: Do you think that describes yourself very well?
PH: Yes. From a young age I was somehow made aware of the sorrowful aspects of life. In some sense, I’ve sought out music to help counter that sadness, both in myself and others.
MR: There's also a triumphalism.
PH: Exactly. There's this duality. We can go back to the blues too. The blues are not a defeatist kind of music. They're not only triumphal, but they can be downright celebratory. My mom used to say to me, "Oy babe, it sounds so sad." I said, "Mom, if would you prefer that sadness lay within me?" It's a catharsis. That's the idea.
MR: Was that the first time you and Sammy had played together?
PH: Yeah, it was.
MR: What was that like?
PH: Well, people who know Sammy Miller, know he's this young guy who’s really a student of jazz and a very soulful person. We'd had many discussions, he and I. We talked about jazz; it's one of my favorite forms of music for many reasons. When he sat down at the drums his grooves were so masterful and unusual. When I play my music onstage or in the studio, I can’t help but have an expectation of what I might hear from the other players. But to my great delight, Sammy defied those expectations and took my songs in a completely different direction than what I’d anticipated. It was thrilling. I’ve played with many great drummers over the years, and I’m pretty sure no one had ever approached the songs like Sammy did. Of course, that sense of discovery, along with his being so fluid on funky is a thing of beauty. When you discover something new, well, that’s when you become aware that you’re alive.
Father Knows Best
MR: I think a lot of people would think that the children of a touring rock musician would turn out a little crazy, but my wife and I have become friends with your daughter, Khaya, and think she’s amazing. How did you raise good kids?
PH: I'm going to answer this question, un-glibly. The main thing is, I married a woman who is not only very intelligent, but very wise. She had a major role in all that. The other thing, and this may seem like a digression— but I improvise a lot, both in the things I say or do. I can write a song on the spot, and when asked I often will. It would seem like everything is just sort of unplanned and unprocessed and indeliberate. But underpinning all that “freedom,” are all sorts of structures that I rely on for those kinds of moments where I walk out of the circle of what I already know. With my kids — I think I was a very loving parent, and as was my wife — but there were a lot of ground rules. There were ground that we also set for ourselves as well.
MR: What were some of the rules?
PH: Many of them were religious in nature — Jewish observances — but within them, there were rules about relating to people. For instance, there were rules that governed how we spoke and interacted with people. And there were things that were right, and others that were completely wrong. Being haughty, being contemptuous, being unkind and impolite, for example.
MR: What were things you wouldn’t let your kids do?
PH: First, we didn’t have a TV when the oldest of our kids were growing up. I’m so thankful that we didn’t have to deal with the sewer pipe of social media. I once wrongly accused my younger son of being at some party and tearing up the kitchen. Turns out he didn’t do anything wrong. Apparently, the mother, who’d been away, had called all the kids’ parents, including us. They raided the refrigerator, spilled stuff all over the floor, made a colossal mess. I couldn't imagine my son would ever do that. But it was upsetting to me that he was even in a space with such people. My wife and I, we both let him know that we were extremely disappointed in him. Not that he did anything, I don't think he did, but that he was somehow even a party to that insanity was beyond the pale. It was such a serious thing that my son eventually chose to go to a whole other school for ninth grade or eighth grade. There were certain behaviors about which we weren't afraid to say, “That's unacceptable.
When I was driving my kids to school or wherever, I used to say to them that it's critical that our family carry on the legacy of Judaism, and to carry the legacy of what our people has to teach the world. I feel, and have always felt, that I am a link in that chain of generations. My wife and I always made it clear how important it was that our kids follow suit. When our kids were growing up I’d tell them something like, “Let it be known that I didn't make the mistake of saying that you need to marry somebody who's Jewish. Our expectation is strong that you will do just that.”
I recently had a text with my good friend, the writer, Sherman Alexie, who's Native American. He told me he was going to be writing an essay about how he married a woman who is purely Native American on both sides as he is. He wrote: “Could you just share some ideas about what you think about Maria being Jewish and why you married in your faith, and why that was important?"
I don't remember what I wrote back. It all this philosophical bullshit, and at the end, I sent another text, a much shorter text. “I don't know, Sherman. She always just struck me as a very sexy cousin.” Sherman wrote back, “yeah, because that resonates. I get that a hundred percent!”
Praying
MR: What of your Jewish practice resonates and is harder for you?
PH: I’m going to start with what’s easiest. There are three prayer times each day. Within the prayers, especially in the morning, there's a little section where you say, "Blessed are you God who hears prayer." Within that section, you can kind of freestyle. That's the thing that's most pleasurable for me and can occasionally take me a while. That’s because there are so many people that I love. I'm praying for them every day.
MR: Can you share what you prayed for today?
PH: Yeah. I went through the list of my family. I always start with my wife. I prayed for her health, for her happiness, for her success. Then I said prayers for each of our children, their spouses, my grandchildren, my friends. At the end there’s a long list of people who need healing.
MR: Do you pray for anything mundane?
PH: I suppose that depends on what you mean by “mundane.” When I think about prayer, I’m not simply echoing something rote. Prayer is an improvisational act for me, one that has to do with garnering a sense that I am a small, but critical piece of an inconceivably large plan. The intellectual challenge is how to grapple with something you know is beyond your ability to understand, and yet, stay motivated to make an active approach to the idea each day. I do have a sense, broadly speaking, that it all comes down to one question. Is there an intelligence that created and continually creates the world? Some sort of ineffable, completely non-anthropomorphic force that is responsible for all it? That's the Oneness that we talk about in the famous Shema prayer, which proclaims a Jew’s unadulterated faith (and moment to moment search) for the Oneness of God. When the Shema declares that there's only one God, the foundational statement of monotheism, it isn't saying that there's one God, as opposed to two or two billion gods, it’s implying a wholeness, a unity that’s unknowable and incomprehensible.
If you hold the belief that faith in God is absurd —which I understand many people do, and I understand how they could—you must also ascribe that same sense of absurdity to the world being created and sustained by complete randomness. In my view, the chances of there being a random universe are equally as “absurd” as harboring a belief in God’s having created the world. Part of the problem for many people, is linguistic. The word “God,” is troublesome. It’s come to mean a bearded guy on a cloud throwing candies when we’ve good and throwing lightning bolts when we’ve been bad. Who wouldn’t reject that?
Making it a bit simpler: is there a Force in control, or is everything that you’ve ever experienced completely arbitrary? Many, if not most of the people that I grew up with, never had the opportunity to think deeply about that question. For the most part, even as proud Jews, we believed more in Darwin, than we did in the Torah at the synagogues that I attended, you’d read the word “God” in the prayer book, but it was meaningless. And strangely, while there was no talk about God, there was an undeniable push towards a brand of limiting rationalism, where the question of whether or not there is a Force, or an Intelligence behind everything, could be completely ignored. I was always thinking about this sort of thing.
MR: Is there something in Judaism that’s a struggle for you?
PH: Yes, there is. There are these penitential prayers before Rosh Hashanah, and they're just interminably long. I do part of them and I just…it's not that there's something intrinsically wrong about looking at one's misdeeds. I think that's a great idea. It's just that it's written in a certain language that doesn’t resonate easily with me. Also, being on tour and keeping kosher isn’t exactly easy. Then again, nor is marriage, child-rearing, creating good music, or anything else that’s important.
MR: How do you feel about looking like a Jew in public? Wearing a yarmulke, for instance?
PH: I feel good about it. It's hard for me to wear a yarmulke onstage because it flies off my head. When I'm on stage I wear a hat instead.
MR: I think Naftali Bennett has tape under his yarmulke.
PH: Yeah, he's got a little confetti up there. I like to see that. But no one can tell who someone is by the garments they wear. That's for sure.
MR: Do you have your tzitzit flying out on stage?
PH: No. I used to. Somehow, it's a little…I don't wear them out anymore in general. I used to like to make a strident statement. I don't really need to make that statement these days. I keep them tucked in.
Free Association
MR: I want to do a speed round. I'll say a word or a phrase, and you'll do a free association of just a word or a phrase, the first one that pops to mind. Can we do that?
PH: Yeah. I’d love it.
MR: Okay.
Chabad.
PH: Joy.
MR: The Lubavitcher Rebbe?
PH: Among the most important people I've ever met.
MR: Jazz?
PH: Liberation within incredible structure.
MR: Blues?
PH: Just like we said before: cathartic, triumphal, victorious.
MR: Afterlife?
PH: Something that I think about hour-to-hour.
MR: What about legacy?
PH: Something that I think is both overlooked and incredibly important. The legacy of the good deeds and love that you sow is crucial.
MR: Singer-songwriter?
PH: I don't like the term. It somehow demeans both.
MR: California?
PH: A place where hope still lives.
MR: New York?
PH: Bustling, energetic, dynamic.
MR: Creativity?
PH: Nearly synonymous with spirituality.
MR: What is the first of your songs that come to mind?
PH: The song I’m thinking of, and it relates obliquely, to a lot of what we’ve been talking about here, is called “Can’t Drag Myself Away.”
MR: What about album?
PH: The first album that comes to mind, of course, is my latest. At The Emergence Of Stars. I’ve begun a Kickstarter campaign to try and recoup some of the expense of making this kind of record, one where we’re all playing together live, as opposed to sampled drums and instruments.
Peter’s Miscellany
MR: Do you floss?
PH: I don't. I have zero cavities.
MR: Do you pick your nose?
PH: Not as often as I used to.
MR: What do you think is the song you listened to the most last year?
PH: Oh, that's pretty easy: A Love Supreme.
MR: The album?
PH: The whole thing. I derive a lot from it.
MR: Do you have any good apps on your iPhone that you like using that you think other people don't know about?
PH: Oh, I'm sure they know about them, but when I'm speaking to somebody for whom English isn't their first language, I’ll use this app called Translate Now.
I also have an app my son told me about called Boxing Timer. I can do my workouts in rounds, and I can time the duration of the rounds. It just makes it more fun.
MR: You don't collect anything?
PH: I collect phrases on my note app. If anyone wanted to find out who I am, they would only need to go through these notes.
MR: Can you read me the most recent one you wrote to yourself? If you feel comfortable.
PH: Yeah I do. I wrote a song on the plane coming back from Seattle a day ago.
MR: What's the last line that you wrote?
PH: The last line in that thing is: “It's not that we've become impatient, it's more likely that we've grown unwise / It's not that we're short on miracles/we've just forgotten how to open our eyes.”
MR: What kind of siddur do you use?
PH: I use a Chabad, old school model, all Hebrew siddur. It's kind of like mid-size, not too small, not too big.
MR: Do you snack on anything?
PH: If I just want a pick me up, I'll have some Persian golden raisins and almonds together in one handful.
MR: Do you do any exercise other than boxing?
PH: Well, boxing includes so many different things to be able to box, and I work out probably every day.
MR: What's the food that you think you eat the most in your life?
PH: That's a really hard question.
Eggs.
MR: How do you like them?
PH: Oh, I like them all different ways. We're really good cooks in this house too, like super good. A fried egg in a tortilla with salsa on it.
The Sopranos
MR: What's the last show you binge watched?
PH: The Serpent.
It's just horrible, but it's so good. You just want to kill some of those people that are killing those people.
MR: What movie in your life do you think you've watched the most?
PH: Can it be a television show?
MR: Yeah.
PH: For sure, The Sopranos.
MR: Who is the first character that comes to your mind right now?
PH: Pussy.
MR: What's the first episode that comes to your mind right now?
PH: When Christopher kills Aide’s the dog. “She crawled under me for warmth.”
MR: Let me ask you this, why do you think that was the first thing that popped into your head?
PH: I think I was just talking to my son Isaac about that because he's introducing his wife to The Sopranos.
MR: I'm introducing my wife to The Sopranos, too.
PH: I forget how old that show is. It’s evergreen.
MR: What song from the show do you think was most momentous?
PH: “Wheel in the sky keeps on turning…”
MR: Which character do you hate the most?
PH: Oh, man. I have to say I liked all the characters. The most hateful was Phil Leotardo. But I didn't hate him. He was so funny.
MR: When you watch it over again, how often do you watch it?
PH: I watch it on a plane nowadays.
MR: What do you think it does for you?
PH: That’s hard to say. Sometimes I marvel at how good the writing is. Do you remember Pussy's wife?
MR: Yeah.
PH: The actor, Toni Kalem, is a good friend of ours. I once asked her what it was all about. I’m not sure she could define it.
It was designed to be almost a comedy. It got less funny over time. It found its groove in being darker than I think it was originally intended to be. It was funny in many ways. I think it brilliance lay in the fact that you loved and respected these people. Tony, we were led to believe had a heart. He loved his family. With that level of “trust” we can kick back and laugh. The funniest lines were Christopher’s: “I don’t care if they shove a scud missile up your ass. This is my corner. You pay anyone but me, I’m coming back for your thumb.” “You touch a single f***in' crust, you’re gonna wish you took that job at McDonald’s.” “Yeah, I coulda been a model, I just don’t like the people.”