The language of her soul
By Ofer Aderet
Yasmin Levy likens herself to a butterfly fluttering among flowers, pollinating them. The flowers are countries and people; the pollen, her songs in Ladino. "I disseminate these songs because they are the only thing that will survive from this language," she said. "Within less than a generation, it will totally disappear." ...
"I took traditional songs, changed the rhythms and adaptations, added a few instruments and made them sound younger and more interesting," she said, while demonstrating how elements of jazz and flamenco fuse with Cuban beats to produce a pulsating Ladino number. "I understood that in order to reach a younger audience, I need to make these songs more accessible and evocative."
Nonetheless, she would never change the lyrics or the melodies: "I don't have the right to do such a thing," she said. "They're not my songs."
I respect Ms. Levy, even though I do not quite grasp her logic. I would say, who gets the money when you sing the songs, Yasmin? If the money goes to the immortal ancestors, OK. If you put it in the bank, it's your money and your songs.
Harking back to the previous post, creation is ongoing: don't try to pretend otherwise. You do no honor to the past by pretending not to change its creations. That is the meaning of life: to grow.
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