Lang with the attitude problem would have made Shuey sing the way he really wanted to sing
Shuey hung up from Avi Korman and warily said good night to his family, casting a longing look at the house — it wasn’t his, it was a rental, it had no personality, whatever. Tonight, it felt like he’d been born in that house and lived there every day of his life. As he stood in the driveway and looked back, he was overcome with tenderness: the horse-shaped brass doorknocker he always thought tacky was suddenly a friend, the porch light with the yellow glow he thought attracted bugs now seemed inviting, and the slate blue door he’d once said looked like an angry sky beckoned him to come back in and forget about the yeshivah.
But he didn’t, of course, he had a job. A calling, he thought, but he didn’t linger on it, just kept moving, pulling out on to New Hampshire, stopping in Wawa for an impossibly large coffee and, on a whim, a few bags of chips and pretzels for the bochurim.
He drove without thinking, listening to music — to himself — and sang a low harmony to “Mimkomo” that he wished he would have thought of back then. This was one of his regrets, that he’d allowed others to tell him how to sing and hadn’t let loose.
Two years after “Ein Kamocha,” when Shuey’s career started to falter, he knew it was time to switch producers. Benjy Lang was the guy, they all said, even if he wasn’t easy to work with. He was moody and distracted, but his understanding of music was unparalleled.
This one’s in print. Some of our best stories live in the magazine — subscribe to get Mishpacha every week.
