The Chords That Bind (1986)

I go through life humming to myself. On a clear day, you can hear me before you can see me. Even when by sheer mental effort I succeed in sealing my lips, if you look deep into my eyes you can see the notes silently making their way along the staff.

Where did all this music come from? What is a nice Jewish boy doing singing in a place like this?

When I was growing up — not here in the South, but in the Deep North — our family sang together. On the Sabbath and on holidays, we would stay at the dinner table long after the food and dishes had been cleared  and we would sing. Because musical instruments were not allowed on the Sabbath, we sang without instrumentation — but not without accompaniment. From my grandfather, Gabriel Kahn, I learned the fine points of creating a rhythm section, using only two basic variations (closed fist and open palm) of the basic hand-on-table technique. From my parents, Rosalind and Benjamin Kahn, I learned — once my sister and I had the basic tunes down well enough not to be distracted — the rudiments of high and low harmony, made up as you go along.