In the early 2000s, a band burst onto the scene and changed Jewish music forever. In honour of Jewish Music Week, currently ongoing in Toronto, this is their story:

As the four lads took the stage for their first show, little did anyone know that Jewish music would never be the same again. They had met in the day school system and spent summers together. Some of them had previously played together in other musical projects, but nothing could have prepared concertgoers for what they were about to witness.

In those early, formative years, members of the band that would come to be known as Shirayim (“leftovers” in Hebrew) honed their chops on Toronto’s Jewish-events circuit. They played bar and bat mitzvahs, school carnivals and half-empty halls on second-rate Jewish holidays. Wherever the boys plugged in, controversy followed. They were met with anguished cries: “Turn it down,” “Turn it down even more” and “For God’s sake, please stop with that noise.” But the band, now a five-piece, kept on truckin’.

All that time spent on the road, hauling gear from one synagogue to the next, helped the guys refine their trademark sound – raw, aggressive, in-your-face and utterly danceable. There was nothing else like it, and with every passing gig, Shirayim was winning over more and more fans. To the city’s establishment, the band represented all that was wrong with young Jews; to a generation of teenagers, they were Jewish music’s loveable bad boys.

Soon enough, they were headlining on Yom Ha’atzmaut and at the Walk for Israel. Shirayim had hit it big. But for these five 20-somethings, the question now became: What’s next? Fame came with its fair share of benefits, sure, but the guys began to tire of the celebrity life. Some nights, they couldn’t even hear themselves over the shrieks of the teenage throngs. They began to wonder if anyone was actually listening. 

Shirayim had made its name playing for live audiences, but now the band retreated to the studio to write and record its magnum opus, a concept album called Sons and Builders. The new material saw Shirayim exploring its diverse roots in some unexpected ways. It was still intense and brash, of course, but also more introspective and, at times, verging on quiet. 

As the record’s release date approached, the guys wondered how their new sound would be received. They needn’t have worried. Fans and critics offered high praise for Sons and Builders, and the band followed it up with a series of concerts across downtown Toronto. Orthodox youngsters lined up outside venues like the Horseshoe Tavern just to get a glimpse of Shirayim in action.  

The band was now at the height of its popularity. And yet, after years together, the members of Shirayim were tiring of the grind. Our long, strange trip was over. 

Music historians debate whether Shirayim ever officially broke up, or if its members simply drifted apart. Fans of the band still hope for one more show – a last hora, if you will. It’s hard to say if that will ever happen, but at least we’ll always have the music. Nothing can take that away.  — YONI