Still on Fire

Photos: Naftoli Goldgrab, Personal archives

There are some artists who give themselves to you, their voices open and translucent and pleading for connection, their limbs dancing along, as if to say

I am the music, here you go.

Abie Rotenberg is the opposite.

There is something unknowable about him, the defining quality in his mellow, somewhat husky voice with its layer of mystery. You’ve never seen him dance on stage and likely never will. Seated at the piano, playing songs that have become anthems of prayer or hope, there is no extra drama, no slump in the shoulders, no exaggerated shake of the head.

It’s always Abie, reaching you on his terms.

Take it or leave it. And the thing is, you can’t really leave it, because there’s nowhere else you can get notes which mix depth and whimsy, where pain touches faith, where personal longing is somehow uplifted and transformed into a collective, national yearning.