Matisyahu
Akeda

For those who don't know him, Matisyahu is the pseudonym of Matthew Miller, an all-American Jewish rapper, orthodox until 2011, with a past as a pot-head.
In Italy, the only song by the singer that has actually charted is "King Without A Crown" from 2005, so it’s no surprise if Matis has flown under your radar until now.
Until 2011, the rapper had become an icon jew in his homeland: thanks to the kippah, the long beard with curls, and the tzitzit combined with Adidas tracksuits, Nike Air Max, and the latest trendy glasses, he transformed into what the overseas press defined as a “hasidic reggae superstar” - the concert Live at Stubb’s Vol. 2 is proof of this.
In 2011, Matisyahu suddenly shaved his beard, posted a photo on Instagram saying goodbye to the role he had played until then, and with this move, lost a lot of fans: perhaps he is no longer Jewish?
Then, in 2012, when Matis released the album "Spark Seeker", heavily electronic and pop, people cried "commercial move": Matthew in many interviews denied having abandoned his religion, stating he just wanted to "loosen the ties that bound him" too tightly, but he also started posting photos that, in a certain audience, aroused scandal (him without a kippah at a concert, him with dyed hair, him with rapper Wiz Khalifa smoking a joint…). In the 2012-2013 period, he began to appear always with sunglasses, sometimes slurring and "breaking up" the lyrics of his songs, growing long hair, and sometimes not even seeming in such good vocal form. Many began to wonder what happened to the good old Matthew: the songs of "Spark Seeker" were cheerful, talking about biblical figures and Israel, with that Shema shouted in the uptempo Tel Aviv’n. Yet something didn't add up.

At the end of the 2013 tour, Matisyahu had to stop: severe vocal cord injuries forced him to leave the stage for a while and especially to silence.
It was probably this forced stop that compelled him to face himself and the man he didn't want to show to the public.
After recovering his voice, taking singing lessons, and renewing his collaboration with the Dub Trio as a support band, Matis entered the recording studio.

The result was anticipated by "Watch The Walls Melt Down", "watching the walls crumble", which with its trumpets (of Jericho?) distances itself from the electropop synthesizers and the carefree nature of the previous album and throws in the listener's face a picture of Matthew Miller from 2013.
In the piece, Matis lays it all bare: he is 34 years old and his fans crush him into that "box" of religious appearance from which he tries to escape in every way, even with drugs. These are the same fans who do not realize that the person on stage, shaky and exhausted from substances and alcohol, is not the same orthodox Jew they want back.
The piece is frank and, aside from shocking the usual suspects, manages to stir the imagination of the most hardcore fans.

Finally, in 2014 "Akeda" was released, an album that takes its title from the traditional Jewish story of the near-sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham, included in the Talmud, in which Isaac tells his father to tie him tightly (akeda literally means "binding") so he cannot resist the sacrifice which, reluctantly but with great faith in God, the father was about to make.
The same word, akeda, seems to be almost the constant theme of the entire album, as in a dialogue between the singer-songwriter and God.
The record develops as a concept album on the inner life of the singer in the last year, with the songs analyzing various aspects in almost chronological order.

"Reservoir" is a thanksgiving to God, for what has allowed him to endure and discover by facing his inner suffering.
"Broken Car" is the first piece in which Matis talks about a "broken home" in which he lives alone: the song anticipates what was only later revealed in an interview by the singer, namely the divorce from his wife and the separation from their three children, which the singer had kept private to not ruin his image of a good Jew.
Following are "Watch The Walls Melt Down" and "Champion", a piece slightly disconnected from the context as it’s the only one not composed and recorded specifically for the album, but which talks about courage and struggle - similar to the single "Live Like A Warrior" from 2012 - and serves as an "intermission" between the first three "heavy" pieces and the rest of the album, from which the "ascent" begins.
"Built to survive" has Matis acknowledging with a friend that, despite all the evil, life goes on.
This is followed by "Ayeka (Teach Me To Love)" - which draws from the psalms and speaks of fighting with one's demons alongside God -, "Black Heart" - which talks about discovering oneself as "bad", and is the only reggae track on the album - and "Star On The Rise" - which sounds like the prayer or self-conversation of a boxer about to step back into the ring, knowing there is a star rising from years of shadow.
"Surrender" is fundamentally based on the meaning of the akeda story and the apparent perversion of surrendering to God's will.
"Confidence" is the second "intermission" of the album and talks about Matis' relationship with his old "costume" as an orthodox Jew: particularly, the author reflects on rediscovering the reasons that led him to be an orthodox Jew and the lack of self-confidence that sometimes leads you to accept things you don't want and not to accept yourself as you are.
"Vow Of Silence" is a very rhythmic piece, a rap with a chorus sung in Hebrew, in which the singer talks about all those situations in the Bible where the "heroes" behaved like "bad guys", disobeying God; in the bridge, the singer addresses his son Shalom and encourages him to live his religion with faith and courage.

The three pieces before the finale form a crescendo, or perhaps a diminuendo, leading us with imagination to the brink of depression and meaninglessness.
"Obstacles" reopens an old wound: it is an old piece but never previously released, often performed live when Matisyahu still had his beard, but with a perfect meaning for the album.
"Hard Way" is the wound that bleeds and talks about learning only from mistakes, posing a question it does not answer: "who will make you happy when you are your own worst enemy?"
"Sick for so long" is the most poignant piece of the album, far from being maudlin: Matisyahu sings with his heart how it feels to have a wound that doesn’t heal and how the only way to heal it is to return to oneself and accept that pain without running away. The piece also talks about eyes that shine, "fathers and daughters like fire and water", and heart problems: it’s likely an implicit reference to the little daughter that Matisyahu had with an old flame, born with a heart problem.
After a psychedelic and drunken tail that fades into oblivion, the last track "Akeda" opens with simple strums of a classical guitar, marking the time and highlighting the words narrating the akeda story from the point of view of the angel who spoke to Abraham and repeat the refrain of ayeka.

The moral of the album is simple only in words, but not in deeds: death has never immediately made sense to our eyes, and to endure the death of another requires love and to endure one's own pain requires faith.
In these terms, it may seem like a democristiano (or demo-Jewish) album, but it is actually a very psychological and concrete disc, like the story of a friend talking about his addiction to a drug and how he is coming out of it by going through hell.

Personally, I consider it one of the best albums I have ever purchased and listened to, for the way in which the lyrics, sounds, and melodies seem to reproduce what I live inside.
Certainly, Matisyahu’s best album from every point of view, even though it’s a little less pop.