Waiting for the novelty to fade

By BEN WENER
The Orange County Register

This Matisyahu mensch and the mounting mania for him really have me baffled.

By now you've surely heard about the world's first Hasidic reggae star. Once you've laid eyes on him, you won't soon forget the sight. For months, in fact, friends who rarely listen to radio, let alone KROQ - which has been spinning Matisyahu's hit "King Without a Crown" as if it were the only record in existence - have been coming to me with variations on this: "That guy Matisyahu he's really interesting!"

Of course he is. Jews who follow the Lubavitch way may be more commonplace these days than, oh, the Amish. But when was the last time you saw a devout guy - in a plain suit, broad-brimmed hat, tzitzis dangling from his waist and his face hidden by a bushy beard that shames the men of ZZ Top - rockin' the microphone like a Jamaican dance-hall MC and toasting about a whole different kind of Zion?

In some sense, the arrival of 26-year-old Matis (for short) must hit people with the same what's-up-with-that curiosity that greeted Bob Marley in the '70s. Jews have looked Tevye- like for longer than Jamaicans have had dreadlocks, you realize, but just as reggae giants once seemed only invitingly exotic before their influence was so deeply felt on music, so it is that a Hasidic presence in pop culture is weirdly attractive indeed - if not, I fear, quite as significant as some think.

I can certainly see why the Phish-loving high-school dropout and former stoner born Matthew Miller has struck a nerve in Southern California. This has long been a stronghold of riddim lovers, particularly when the grooves come from white people. Marley, Peter Tosh, Jimmy Cliff, later heroes like Buju Banton and Beenie Man - they've all been big here. But the real rages have always been palatable, often diluted white adaptations, be they from the Police, the English Beat and UB40 or No Doubt, 311 and Sublime.

Matisyahu's smash reminds that our collective desire for more is far from sated, even if it has been a while since we've fed it. Setting aside 311's hits this decade, there hasn't been anything this appealing since Sublime's swan song started spinning off staples in 1996.

So I find Matis' launch encouraging, even if I have reservations I may never shake.

His third and by far most hyped album, "Youth," arrived this week - and, yes, it sports a re-recorded version of his best tune. The take you've heard is from the sleeper success "Live at Stubb's" - as if you didn't know. Though were you aware of this irony, that the kosher performer's life-changing set was recorded at a Texas BBQ famous for its pulled pork? I learned that tidbit at RollingStone.com, whose feature on Matis has a photo with this caption: "No shellfish, no cry."

Jokes come easy with something like this, and that's unfortunate. Amid a sea of sex-crazed dance-hall favorites and reggae stalwarts spitting the same ol' Rasta rhymes, Matisyahu's orthodox update on get-up-stand-up principles is refreshing and inspiring. Even when he lapses into Matthew Wilder's '80s ditty "Break My Stride" or makes like Marley à la "Redemption Song" on a piece about "What I'm Fighting For," his conviction and the incongruous juxtaposition of Jewish tenets with free-flowing jams keeps me intrigued.

But there are also too many easily spotted flaws, inconsistencies, clichés. Few mention that for as potent as his voice can be, just as often it's thin and meek (exactly how Matis' slight frame seems under his garb). And his band, Roots Tonic - which shoulders half the task of getting this sound across - is simply so-so. You can hear dozens just like it at any festival, and on "Youth" producer Bill Laswell has buried the zest of the trio's feel in electro-enhanced polish.

Granted, Matisyahu's anti-materialistic, peace-and-love stance is much needed in an era still blinged-out by formulaic hip-hop, and I suspect he'll be a joy at Coachella in April (on a Sunday, naturally). Yet I'm having a hard time seeing him as anything but a novelty. Really, if this guy looked like just another suburbanite or a refugee from the Black Eyed Peas, would we have noticed?

And just how will he reconcile his faith with his stardom? Already he's reportedly left female fans cold because he refuses even their slightest advances - handshakes, hugs. His rabbis have forbidden him from stage-diving, because that could lead to contact with women. Isn't it somewhat hypocritical, actually, to be all for spiritual empowerment and equality yet still shun females?

Likewise, how much will anyone take to his sage but patriarchal message? "Sons and daughters of Abraham / Lay down to a higher command / Don't be tricked by the acts of man / God's wisdom revealed in the holy plan." Yeah, that should go down well with the drunks at Weenie Roast.

Look, it's great that he sings "to my God all these songs of love and healing" and that millions have taken to the catchy religious fervency of someone whose sect is often viewed scornfully, even by Jews. But does anyone see this buzz for him lasting longer than it does for any other odd duck?

I'm loathe to suggest a man betray his beliefs, and I doubt that will occur, but something tells me the only way Matis will achieve longevity beyond reggae's insular circle is if he pulls a Cat Stevens in reverse - go from extremist to moderate. Best guess: He'll remain steadfast - and become a segment on VH1's "I Love the '00s" in another 10 years.