Pitchfork

Matisyahu (née Matthew Miller) is a guy from White Plains, N.Y. who smoked weed and followed Phish and played in those drum circles everyone hates. One spiritual breakthrough later, he realized he loved dancehall reggae and Judaism (order unclear) and started making music. He performs wearing traditional Hasidic garb, and he beatboxes and stagedives. That's the whole story. Stop reading those magazine articles.

His music, however, isn't all that special. Mixing high school retreat Rasta spitting, Yiddish verse, and occasionally legit patois over a synthesized version of trad reggae, he's on that old search for enlightenment and devotion but his struggle reeks of bored rich kid. Foolish to question his faith, but in the face of Bob Marley's homeland righteousness and complicated politics or Sizzla's maniacal, militant Rastafarianism, Matisyahu's roots reggae is flimsy stuff. Not necessary novelty. Just not that novel.

Matisyahu's third album is his first studio release since last year's rep-making SXSW performance and comes on the heels of a live album, Live at Stubb's, that currently resides in the Billboard top 50. The LP is overrun with standard religious tropes. Youth was produced by Material linchpin Bill Laswell, who issued Trojan's Dub Massive Chapters One & Two last year and has helped produce avant-garde music for the likes of John Zorn, Laurie Anderson, and Herbie Hancock (he played bass on "Rockit"). His contributions are obvious on "Indestructible" and "Late Night in Zion", tracks that glide away from traditional Jamrock stomp and dabble in bouncy ethereal movements and wanky soloing. Lyrically, Godspeak is unassailable stuff (ask Sufjan) but Matisyahu is not immune to clunky turns of phrase like, "What I'm fighting for is more than silver and gold" or "I'm all shook up like I been in the blender," and is often downed by them. "Unique in My Dove" is admirable stuff, pleading and pledging fidelity to his woman, and extrapolated to his faith. But it's treacle jammy stuff; with all those natty drum fills, MOR progressions, and lockstep dub grooves the good will goes to shit.

Authenticity and showmanship appear to be the stumbling blocks and great emancipators for Matisyahu. Inexplicably, he attracts jam-rock blaggards and disoriented hipsters with nowhere else to turn with his wacky ability to make beat noises out of his mouth. It was annoying when Justin Timberlake did it and it's annoying now. Still, as large venues continue to sell out, Baby Boomers remember they luuuhve Marley and hey, this guy, at least, kinda sounds like him if you can't remember the 70s that well. Plus he's worth an extra 20 minutes of convos at the steak house before the show. "Wait, he's Jewish? You're kidding!?!" It's sad that relatively innocuous musicians are indicted on the strength of their audience, but sometimes the demographics don't lie.

In his 2005 end-of-the-year comments, Pitchfork's boss hog Ryan Schreiber dissed Matis simply by quoting the Bravery's Sam Enidcott's ill-considered declaration that "This is the future of music." Others have also hopped on this dubious idea. I'm not entirely sure anyone knows what Endicott's statement means. I suspect the next Hasidic dude rocking the mic is gonna get shouted down for being a poseur. Perhaps Endicott meant that artists who step out of their cultural realm and embrace an unlikely sound to deliver their message are the future. There might be something to that.

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