Keeping it kosher

By TERESA WILTZ
THE WASHINGTON POST

NEW YORK -- Backstage at Madison Square Garden, Matisyahu cuts a striking figure, more rabbinical than reggae, 6 feet 3, all Talmudic beard and zizit fringe, shaking hands with the men, smiling at the women, saying, yes, yes, hopefully, one day soon, he'll be the one headlining. God willing.

Just minutes before, he was onstage, rapping and beatboxing, singing praises, bouncing like Bob Marley. Folks in this mostly white crowd of college kids were standing in their seats, arms in the air, jamming to the beat. Hollering. Not a bad way to debut at the Garden, especially for an opening act with an unusual concept -- a Hasidic reggae singer.

Now Matisyahu's working a different kind of performance: the industry Meet & Greet. He's making his rounds, navigating the terrain between religion and ambition, dodging potholes. For example: He's presented with a preteen fan, her dad wielding a disposable camera. The girl grins hopefully. Would he? Sure. But just before the camera clicks, she slips in closer to Matisyahu -- and he ever so slightly arches his lean frame away from the girl's, carving vital inches of space between their bodies.

The life of a charismatic rapper-singer with crossover dreams and spiritual convictions poses its challenges.

Matisyahu (born Matthew Miller) has been dubbed the "Hasidic reggae superstar," a pat moniker of which he's none too fond. It's an easy shorthand for a complex man, reducing the performer to a punch line. Still, the 26-year-old has always wanted to be a star, ever since he was a fractious teen growing up in a secular household in the New York suburbs. Right now, that star is on the ascendant: His third album, Youth, dropped this week; his sophomore CD, Live at Stubb's, has been No. 1 on Billboard's reggae chart for the past five weeks, beating out dancehall king Sean Paul. Right now, Matisyahu can be spotted on MTV, a Hasidic hunk dancing against an animated backdrop in his video King Without a Crown.

In recent days, he's appeared on Letterman, Jimmy Kimmel and Conan O'Brien, and he's touring 32 cities this winter. Mike D from the Beastie Boys is doing a remix for King, and Dave Matthews has asked him to go on tour with him.

"He has everything going for him," says Joshua Neuman, whose New York-based magazine, Heeb, profiled him in 2004. "Talent, good people surrounding him, and a good head on his shoulders. Looks. And values."

About those Friday-night gigs . . .

Matisyahu is an Orthodox Jew following the strict Lubavitch Hasidic tradition. So if that means turning down a Friday night gig, so be it. If that means not touring with Shakira on a stadium tour through Latin America because his rabbis say performing with a female singer is forbidden, so be it. If that means subsisting on turkey sandwiches because finding kosher restaurants in Finland or Jamaica is tough, then turkey sandwiches it is.

He does this because, as he sees it, he has what he has because he puts God first.

"It's an amazing thing, a phenomenon, when a person is willing to give themselves over to something else," Matisyahu says softly, in a lilting voice that reflects both his White Plains, N.Y., roots and the accent of the rabbis he studies with.

"That's what real passion is . . . and that passion comes through a divorce of self. . . . And the way to do that is to give yourself over to something greater."

Still, he says, he's not out to convert anyone with his music. He's just journaling his life experiences through his lyrics.

He started performing as Matisyahu (a Hebrew version of "Matthew") in 2002, and early in this incarnation he decided that he didn't want to be put in a religious box. There was easy money to be made performing for Jewish organizations; instead, he chose performing at secular clubs starting in 2002 for "100 bucks a night." It hurt his pocket, but that was the way it had to be.

After all, he says, Orthodox Judaism was never meant to separate you from the world.

"You embrace life," he says, "while living a powerful, elevated lifestyle."

"I don't see myself as a religious musician," Matisyahu says. "I'm not trying to make myself more marketable or more mainstream. My music, and my message, is more marketable. . . . It's just a matter of getting it out there."

Getting it out there is the task of his management team, Jacob Harris and Aaron Bisman, of J-Dub Records.

At first, Harris says, when they laid out Matisyahu's rules of engagements to concert booking agents -- no Friday night shows or Saturday matinees -- they were told, "Good luck to you." Since he wouldn't play the two nights when it's easiest to fill a house, his guarantees -- the flat performance fees based on promoters' estimates of how many tickets they could sell -- were half what they could have been. But bit by bit, thanks largely to the word of mouth of the college crowd, he built an audience. The sold-out shows led to a record deal with Epic last year. Now, Matisyahu's in demand, but his managers are careful about overexposure. They checked out the reggae/rap careers of one-hit wonders like Afroman (Because I Got High) and Snow (The Informer). They decided that "Matis" wouldn't be a novelty act.

In other words, "we've taken a hard line on marketing," Harris says. They turn down a lot: A Burger King commercial, because he didn't want to promote non-kosher food. Reality TV shows. Howard Stern.

"People want him to make fun of himself," Harris says, "and it's just not going to happen."

"He's not a rapping rabbi," he adds. "He's a reggae singer and he mixes in rock and hip-hop. He's a Hasidic individual, a spiritual individual."

But his was not always the observant life.

An arty life, a Marley life

Matisyahu grew up in a relatively secular household in White Plains, the oldest child of liberal Jews. As a high school junior, on a trip to the Colorado wilderness, out in the woods, he felt a spiritual union that bordered on the mystical. He found rap. The lyrics rocked him. The beat did, too.

He got into reggae and Bob Marley, locking his hair and connecting with the message in the music: Find strength in yourself.

Matisyahu plunged into the arts, music and theater in college at New York's New School. Mystical themes dominated his art. He was a musician without a band, a spiritual seeker without a religion.

"I was looking for a way to fill the gap or hole in my life ... to glue all the pieces of my life together in one common focus."

Two experiences provided the glue: He started attending the Carlebach Shul, an Upper West Side synagogue with a focus on ecstatic music. And one day, in Washington Square Park, he met Rabbi Dov Yonah Korn, who was proselytizing as part of the Chabad movement, an outreach branch of Judaism dedicated to turning Jews on to their religious roots.

Under Korn's guidance, Matisyahu took on the accouterments of Orthodox Judaism. The kid who eschewed all rules became the man who embraced regulation.

Matt became Matisyahu.

He met musician Aaron Dugan -- a fellow New School student -- two years ago at a club gig. The two hit it off immediately, Matisyahu writing lyrics, Dugan crafting tunes.

A first album, Shake Off the Dust . . . Arise, was released in 2004. MTVU, a version of MTV aired exclusively on campuses, played the live version of King Without a Crown, and university students voting online ranked him No. 1 on the show The Dean's List. He held that rank for months.

"His music is just connecting at a moment where eclecticism is prized more than ever," says Ross Martin, head of programming for MTVU. "His message is one of unification. . . . It's broad enough that people from all walks of life can connect."

Matisyahu

8 p.m. Wednesday

Nokia Theatre

Grand Prairie

$25.50

Metro (972) 647-5700