Andy Statman

Dirty Linen

This is an excerpt from the print edition of Dirty Linen #130 June/July 2007).
The full article is in the magazine, available on newsstands, by subscription, and at the Dirty Linen webstore.

Andy Statman

Musical Riches

by Ed Silverman

As darkness enveloped the quiet suburb of West Orange, New Jersey, a stream of men and women began to fill the banquet room at a local synagogue. The crowd on this brisk November Saturday night was attending a fundraiser, and the drawing card was a concert by Andy Statman, a well-known name in Jewish circles for his innovation and mastery of klezmer, the once-popular music of Jews from Eastern Europe. This was an Orthodox, or traditionally observant, congregation, and so Statman was a logical choice for such an event. For the sophisticated, middle-aged audience, his appearance represented a chance to feel a little nostalgic, but also revel in a music that remains entirely relevant, thanks, in part, to a revival that Statman himself unwittingly helped engineer three decades ago.

And he didn't disappoint. As he and his band, which included stand-up bassist Jim Whitney and percussionist Larry Eagle, readied themselves onstage, there was a palpable tingle of anticipation. The lines at the oversized food tables grew thin and conversation abruptly halted when Statman modestly introduced himself before tearing into a jazz-tinged klezmer piece. Within 10 minutes, he had won them over.

Appropriately, he began by playing a number associated with the Breslaver Hasidim, a fervently Orthodox sect. But after another few songs, it became clear this was no ordinary klezmer act. In fact, there were moments when the concert wasn't a klezmer show at all. Instead, Statman soon segued into a composition that sound more like John Coltrane than Dave Tarras, the master klezmer clarinetist who was once Statman's mentor. Nonetheless, the crowd applauded enthusiastically. Statman, after all, is a master clarinetist himself, and he plays with a passion and vigor that is captivating, particularly in such a small setting, where you can see the energy he puts into each note. By the time intermission rolled around after 9 p.m., Statman appeared reluctant to stop. He seemed frustrated, in fact, but did seem to enjoy the food.

After the break, however, he threw everyone a curve. Instead of reaching for his clarinet, Statman picked up his mandolin and began playing bluegrass. To some ears, klezmer and bluegrass have certain similarities, or at the very least, can complement one another. But to many others, these are two very different genres. And to this crowd, Statman's Bill Monroe-like persona was entirely unexpected. After all, Statman is usually billed among Jewish audiences as a klezmer musician, even though that's only partly accurate. What many in the audience probably didn't know is that a teenage Statman was transfixed by bluegrass and became a sought-after mandolinist at an early age. He studied with David Grisman, traveled the South as a working musician and, more recently, has toured and recorded with Ricky Skaggs.

[cover #130]