Making Music Speak the Language:
Challenges Arranging Yiddish Songs for Chorus
By Mark Zuckerman

By the time a choral arranger works on a song, most of the decisions about combining words and music have already been made. Even so, a wide array of challenges and opportunities arise in trying to make musical aspects of the arrangement communicate a sense of the text while still preserving the character of the original song. When the language is probably unfamiliar to much of the anticipated audience (not to mention some of the singers), these challenges take on much greater importance.

Such is the case with Yiddish. Yiddish language and culture have a special relationship with both Jewish and American cultures, but the number of Yiddish speakers has decreased so that basic understanding cannot be expected even from people whose roots are in the Yiddish-speaking world. Most such Jews of my generation had Yiddish-speaking parents or grandparents but grew up not speaking it themselves.

This was my own experience. Yiddish was the common language between my paternal grandparents and also the first language my father spoke, but it was not a presence in my house as I was growing up. I had to learn Yiddish from classes at the National Yiddish Book Center and the Workmen’s Circle and by taking the intensive YIVO summer program. I still don’t feel altogether comfortable speaking Yiddish, though I can understand others and can read at more than a basic level.

Not everybody has the level of interest (or the time) to study Yiddish and learn to speak it. However, even to most non-speakers, Yiddish is not utterly foreign. Jews with family who are native Yiddish speakers retain a sense of Yiddish intonation, may use English equivalents of Yiddish expressions or speak English influenced by Yiddish grammar, and perhaps know some Yiddish words or phrases. It’s likely they’d know stories from Yiddish literature and recognize some Yiddish songs. Even non-Jews (perhaps unwittingly) use Yiddish in their conversation – like when they “shmooze” about “glitches” over a “bagel” with a “shmear” – and know songs from the Yiddish theater, like Dona, dona or Bay mir bistu sheyn.

This sense of familiarity is a complicated issue for an arranger, even one who can identify with it (like me). On the one hand, you can anticipate a sympathetic ear from a feeling of cultural connection. On the other, you can face a number of limiting stereotypical expectations based on narrow experience. For example, there’s the common notion that all Yiddish music is basically confined to klezmer and should, at the very least, be boisterous and toe-tapping. This ignores the breadth of Yiddish song that runs the gamut from labor songs to lullabies (sometimes combining both). Or, there’s a resistance to venture away from the familiar territory of old Yiddish standards, like Rozinkes mit mandlen or Abi gezint.

It’s not much help to use as models compositions and arrangements from the great period of Yiddish choral music. I learned about this wonderful literature singing with the Jewish People’s Philharmonic Chorus and the Workmen’s Circle Chorus in New York . Both choruses have long and rich histories dating back to the early decades of the twentieth century. During the heyday of Yiddish choral music there were sizable Yiddish choruses all over the country. They performed in large halls singing four-part (often unaccompanied) compositions, arrangements, and even oratorios – with texts entirely in Yiddish – by such composers as Zavel Zilberts, Max Helfman, Lazar Weiner, and Maurice Rauch.

Nowadays, the audience for this music is considered highly specialized (read: very small), consisting mostly of “Yiddishists”: people with a strong dedication to Yiddish language and culture. As an arranger, though, my objective has been to make Yiddish music accessible to a wider audience, both Jewish and non-Jewish, using the medium of unaccompanied four-part chorus. Clearly, this has to be done by encouraging a connection through the music – especially through details of the arrangements – rather than by relying on a bond with the Yiddish language.

Using Translations

This is not to say that there are no other possible ways in. Offering English translations is one. Putting translations in program notes follows the classical music model, but there may not always be a printed program when the work is performed. Besides, this is a reference for the listener, not a way into the music. Supertitles would be a better solution, since they synchronize the sung text with its translation, but the arranger can’t rely on performances only in spaces properly equipped, like opera houses. Some performers do running translations, pausing the song and vamping, over which they speak the English equivalent of the line they just sang in Yiddish. This not only interrupts the flow of the song, it can get to be pretty boring, especially when the song tells a long story over many strophic verses.

A still better solution is to find ways of using singable English translations in the midst of the piece, taking care to preserve the flavor and character of the original song. It may be possible to offer just a partial translation that suggests the complete text, rather than translating the entire song. Zog, Maran (Tell Me, Marrano), a Passover song by Avrom Reisen, offers such an opportunity. (It’s interesting to note how frequently Yiddish songs are known by their poet, rather than their composer – in this case, Shmuel Bugatch.)

Reisen’s holiday poetry often tells a story and uses the story’s setting to evoke the spirit of the holiday. In Zog Maran, Reisen adds to the Pesach rituals a dimension the holiday assumed for Jews since the beginning of the Common Era: the festival that most set Jews apart and, in times of overt anti-Semitism, made observant Jews most vulnerable. The rhetorical device Reisen uses has the poet – on our behalf – asking questions of the Marrano about how he can observe the rituals of Pesach under life-threatening conditions. The Marrano’s response is resolute and heroic. Each of the four verses follows this pattern: a question, the answer, and a repetition of the answer.

These are some of the elements in my arrangement of Zog, Maran that are brought to bear in resonating the text. The fact that each answer is presented twice provides an opportunity to have the repetition sung in English. This preserves the flow of the song as well as keeping every Yiddish word. At the same time, the meaning of each exchange is captured in the answer, which is sung in both languages. All of this is underscored by the deployment of vocal parts. In each verse, a different vocal part takes the role of the Marrano (with the other voices accompanying), while the remaining voices pose the question. The English answer is sung by all four voices.

Using Occasions

Another way in is choosing songs to arrange that are written for specific occasions, like holidays. These arrangements would most likely be performed on programs with other (perhaps more familiar) music and would encourage listeners to bring their personal knowledge of the occasion to their listening experience. Most of my arrangements follow this advice. Accordingly, the CD featuring my Yiddish arrangements, “The Year in Yiddish Song” (Centaur Records CRC2611), presents the songs in relation to the Jewish calendar.

Zog, Maran , as a Passover song appropriate both for the holiday and for a program with other music of the spring season, is one example. Another is Vladimir Heyfetz’ Chanukah song Fayer, fayer, about hot potato pancakes (latkes), a traditional Chanukah food of Eastern European Jews. The words are few and very simple (Fire, fire! Oy, it’s hot! Hot latkes!). The tune is energetic and the underlying harmony direct and uncomplicated. Taking advantage of this simplicity, my arrangement turns the song into a madrigal, drawing similarities to some of the Christmas music with which it might be programmed.

Amplifying the Words

The most important contribution an arranger can make toward greater accessibility, though, is by reinforcing musically what the text says in words. How that might best be done is suggested by the text. I’ll illustrate using a Holocaust song: Unter dayne vayse shtern (Under Your White Stars) by Avrom Sutzkever (music by Avrom Brudno). This is not a random example. Not surprisingly, some of the strongest Yiddish poetry is about the Holocaust. I firmly believe any collection of Yiddish music ought to include Holocaust songs, since the Yiddish voice speaks about the Holocaust from an otherwise silent perspective.

While Zog, Maran conveys elements of the story using a rhetorical device, the most striking poetic features of Unter dayne vayse shtern are the arresting images and powerful, frequently ironic word choices and juxtapositions. This strongly suggests a musical approach that highlights local details. My arrangement emphasizes word painting, unusual local harmonies and harmonic successions, and small gestural stresses to draw attention to individual words and phrases.

These examples illustrate the assortment of challenges and opportunities offered the choral arranger of Yiddish songs. The proof of the pudding, though – to mix a metaphor – is in the singing.