But then things changed.

After his hit “100 Years” in 2003, Ondrasik (the man who is Five For Fighting) faded away into the recesses of pop culture.

Once VH1 and MTV stopped playing music videos on their main channels, and TV aired channels to stream 24/7 individual genres of popular music (rap, hip-hop, pop, rock, etc.), Five For Fighting’s music videos were no longer slated for the videos the kids would watch.

When Five For Fighting released “The Riddle (You and I)” in 2006, the teenagers of 2003 were no longer counting down for their favorite music videos. They’d just click whatever they wanted immediately on YouTube.

When the music video died, video did not just kill the radio star. It was an epic battle.

Five For Fighting’s single hit #4. But not on radio for the young people. This was Billboard’s Adult Contemporary Charts. Long live rock. Let it be. Middle aged.

At a certain point, the new kids on the block couldn’t take it anymore (or so the DJs decided). The piano and the slow tempi Five For Fighting played 3 years ago added up to exactly that:  the music of 3 years ago. It was a forced retirement.

Three years after already being three years too late–we’re talking 2009 now–54F released a largely unheard album, Slice. Its single “Chances” peaked at #8 on the US Adult Contemporary Chart. (But how many people can even name 5 current US Adult Contemporary hits?)

Since the producer didn’t get Ondrasik to write a song for young people, it doesn’t matter how good or bad the songwriting was on Slice. The melody of the single they chose is perhaps the least dynamic track on the album. No catchy chorus, the words are heavy, and the kids already confessed not to liking Five For Fighting anymore.

But the album could have been a comeback. They could have chosen a better single. Why not the nostalgic “Slice,” the patriotic “Note To The Unknown Soldier,” the aspirational “Story Of Your Life,” or the rhythmically complex “Love Can’t Change The Weather?”

Or, why not my favorite song from the album, “Above The Timberline?” This song (co-written with Stephen Schwartz, the man behind Wicked and Godspell) is the most sophisticated, most experimental, catchiest, hardest-rocking, most sublime song on the whole record.

It could have been huge.

And maybe that’s why they didn’t choose it.

“I get a little tired” is a very vulnerable opening line for this masterpiece of a song. We are listening to a story about resigning from this world to pursue something higher. Literally and metaphorically.

“You need to find a mountaintop / And get out of this town,” advises Ondrasik. Forget all the mundane worries of the life you know.

Look upon high. “Above the timberline.” It’s not easy to get your mind all the way up there. “The higher I go, the harder I climb.”

You can almost hear echoes of the second of the Psalmist’s 15 Psalms of Ascents (120-134). Esa einai el heharim—I lift my eyes toward the mountains. Me’ayin yavo ezri? From where will my help come?

Granted a distance from all of these earthly troubles, Ondrasik feels a greater intimacy with the one who gives him comfort (a woman, or a god)? “I’m closer to you. / It’s clear in my mind. / Love shines bright above the timberline.”

The singer is—unbeknownst to him—engaging in the Hasidic practice of hitbodedut, the “seclusion of the self” to commune with nature and all that is Divine. He is guided only by himself and the spirits. “I’m listening to the wind. / I’m writing down the words.”

Five For Fighting, rising to the stars and the moon, is enshrouded in the robes of a mystical journey. And it all begins with his focus on the horizon: above the timberline. That point where our eyes no longer see the skies—the end of the heavens, miktzeh hashamayim (Psalm 19:7)—is called Mi by the Zohar. Mi is not merely an abbreviation of miktzeh, but it is the Hebrew word for “Who?”

When the Kabbalist sees the edge of the skies, the Jewish mystic does not see an answer, but a question. Who is the Mystery beyond the skies (Zohar I:1b)? And, to whom is John talking anyway?

Well, who cares about John Ondrasik? These esoteric mysteries and existentialist questions that arise in Ondrasik’s mystical ascent are essentially divorced from the everyday experiences of the Billboard Hot 100 demographic: cool kids. The peak of religiosity in popular music is Macklemore and Ryan Lewis trying on outdated clothing at a thrift shop.

But who cares about those kids? John Ondrasik declares his allusive muse, “All that really matters: / You’ll all I’ll ever need.”

The things that matter to Five For Fighting really won’t matter to the American youth. They’re deeply personal—relevant only to a maturely developed sense of self. As for the things that concern most people, Mr. Ondrasik is leaving those “realities / Parked down at the curb.”

“Above The Timberline” is the boldest song Five For Fighting has ever tried. In fact, I believe it is the best song he has ever written, and I am happy to give Stephen Schwartz credit for advancing John Ondrasik’s songwriting to a place more magical than ever heretofore explored.

With a song of Zoharic concerns like this one, it’s no wonder that Five For Fighting has been slated for the Adult Charts. This fascination with the unearthly must be the reason that it is rumored that you have to be 40 years old before you study Kabbalah. (False by the way. The great Kabbalist Isaac Luria died at the age of 38—the same age Ondrasik was when he released the smash hit “100 Years.”)

Age might not really matter, but we still see age as the dividing line. There’s no rule that says you have to be 40 to like adult radio. But obsessing with the material world (boys, girls, clothes, money, etc.): this is the excuse that keeps kids away from mysticism, from nature, from deep questions, and from Five For Fighting.

A mystical journey or an intimate melody can be the best secret–a secret best kept kept secret. Intimacy can fizzle when you try to make it popular.

According to his website, John Ondrasik is at work on new album now. The kids might never hear it, and he’ll just have to hope that those who seek the esoteric, and such an esoteric album, find it anyway.

I was not in love with it the first time I listened, but The Union has grown on me.

It’s both Elton John’s and Leon Russell’s first album in about 4 years, and I came in with the expectations of a CD full of pretty weak songs from two old guys trying too hard to be young and full of rock & roll. My initial response to the CD was that it’s decent. But, the other day, I began to understand it better. The opening track “If It Wasn’t For Bad” automatically started playing (The Union came up in iTunes right after Dave Matthews Band’s Under the Table and Dreaming) and my first thought was “God! What is this song? That’s a gorgeous intro!” The intro has an old-time feel of “Here comes a classic honky-tonk rag!” but what follows is the sound of classic rock, yet rocking only lightly and with a heavy sense of nostalgia that is aware of the lyrics’ tendency towards melodrama and corniness (“If it wasn’t for you, I’d be happy. / If it wasn’t for lies, you’d be true. / I know that you could be just like you should. / If it wasn’t for bad, you’d be good.”).

These words might look silly on paper today, but no fan of Leon Russell would have considered these binary-opposite lyrics to be stupid in the 70s when Russell’s voice was just slightly stronger. Opposite-words might be inane, but they’ve been popular for a long time. In the 60s, the Beatles sang, “Hello Goodbye,” and these days Katy Perry is singing “Hot N Cold.” It seems like, when you’re younger, you’re less likely to get criticized for being simple in the name of rock and roll.

So, what happens when you’re older, but your job is still rock and roll? You might be aware of how The Wall Street Journal recently published a punchy article recommending retirement for these guys, but I say it’s not that simple. In fact, some late CDs are, in my opinion, among some artists’ best CDs: just to name a few, Bob Dylan’s Love & Theft from 2001, Paul McCartney’s Chaos & Creation In the Backyard from 2005, Randy Newman’s Harps & Angels from 2008, and Elton John’s Songs From the West Coast from 2000. Of course, the great late releases are the exceptions—not the rule. So, we’re still left with the problem of old rockers: what can they do to keep on rocking?

This was precisely Elton John’s question—not about himself (Elton still packs stadiums), but he asked this about Leon Russell. The story: Elton John got mad after an interview during which he realized that lots of young people haven’t heard of Leon Russell and don’t know his music, Elton suggested that Leon Russell and he record an album together, and then they did.

When I first listened to The Union about a month ago, I was surprised that there were so few songs that attempt to rock hard (I’d say maybe 4 out of the 14 songs aren’t slow). You might expect that at least the one song on the album featuring Neil Young (“Gone To Shiloh”) might be an intense rock song, but it’s also a pretty straightforward ballad. The Union is chockfull of slower songs and thinner walls of sound. Neither Elton nor Leon took advantage of the CD to mislead youngings into believing that either artist is as popular among teens today as Katy Perry. At first I was disappointed by this non-aggressive approach (after all, what is rock and roll without aggression?). But I’m thinking now that there’s something a little more mature and composed about the state of these aged rockers.

The second-to-last song on The Union, comes from Elton John (age 72) and his longtime collaborator lyricist Bernie Taupin (69). “Never Too Old (To Hold Somebody)” is a slow but inspiring piece of advice to an old folk with teetering ambition (“Don’t abandon the light. / Don’t step away. / Don’t give up that tune / That you never could play… You’re never too old to hold somebody.”). For Leon Russell (age 78), it is not too late to hold onto, or to take hold of, a friendship that can open up another opportunity in life.

The CD concludes with Russell’s “In the Hands of Angels,” in which the eldest of the duo sings, “I could have been sick. I could have died / I could have given up and not tried / To make it to tomorrow… But there was a brand new start, / And suddenly I was taken / New and far away places… / It was a whole new race / When I woke on that first day. / There was nothing I could say. / I was in the hands of angels.”

Both full of talent and both long past those moments in their careers when they made it big—two legendary artists stood together at a crossroads. It is not clear entirely what the phrase means, but the Babylonian Talmud recalls a millennia-old saying that—even though it might not have been Jewish in origin—was preserved by Jewish writings: o chevruta o mituta (“either partnership or death”). What exactly the phrase meant the first time it was said is unclear, and much has been said about it, but, most ways you look at it, these four words can be very powerful.

It seems to me that both Elton and Leon see themselves in the position of o chevruta o mituta: they can either partner up and have a good time together, or just prepare to die alone. Modern Hebrew has the phrase “la’asot chayyim,” which means “to have a good time” but literally means “to make life.” Instead of choosing mituta (death), they chose la’asot chayyim. They chose chevruta (partnership). They chose The Union.

I hope, and honestly doubt, that this will be the last album of either artist, but it’s a pretty touching way to acknowledge that their careers have been a good, long run. With releasing this last record, they’ve successfully avoided the psyche that Randy Newman describes in a song about aging rockers (himself included), “I’m Dead,” frequently subtitled “(But I Don’t Know It).” Leon and Elton aren’t dead. They’re very much alive. And they know exactly where they are in life.

This album does not bring out the synth-pop and try to steal away Katy Perry’s fans. It’s a sweet collection of new songs for Elton’s and Leon’s tried and true fans. Given the choice of o chevruta o mituta, Leon and Elton chose chevruta. They’ve still got some great time ahead of them and some great music to give us. I’m glad they got together and chose la’asot chayyim.

Click here to watch trailer

Black Swan is an indescribable movie. It leaves you panting, shocked, throws down your defenses and makes you ache for more pain. If I am to try and sketch it in broad strokes, it is a movie that focuses on the psychological drama of a ballerina grappling with becoming the White Swan and the Black Swan in Swan Lake. I say ”becoming” rather than ”playing“ or ”dancing” because the character struggles with crawling into the skin of these fictional creatures, as she herself faces her own demons: her own obsession with perfection, an overly-intimate and co-dependant relationship with her mother, and the question–can she unleash these two aspects of her: the graceful, fragile White Swan who dies for love, and the passionate, destructive Black Swan who steals her love away?

It took me a long time to write this, because frankly, I felt there was so much to write about I couldn’t possibly begin to choose. What I have come up with is not so much a clear treatise, but a list of questions that have haunted me about the movie to tease the reader with. I urge you to watch this movie and grapple with these questions yourself.

Natalie Portman as the Black Swan

Yetzer  –

In Hebrew, we talk about the Yetzer a lot – but what is the Yetzer? Literally, it means the urge, the inclination, the driving force. We separate Yetzer Hatov, the Good Urge, from Yetzer Harah, the Bad Urge. It is interesting that Hebrew does not call it the urge to do evil or good, but personifies the urge itself as inherently good or bad. Over the years, people have described being overcome by the Bad Urge, battling it, as though it aims to possess them. I see the Black Swan and the White Swan in the movie as the protagonist’s urges–not necessarily good or bad, so much as the urge to live life with wanton abandon and passion versus the urge to live life with grace and perfection. The character is given the impossible task of embodying both of these urges, and the movie becomes a kind of emotional battlefield, where these urges attack each other, leaving the ballerina’s body and soul scarred and broken. The movie also calls into question our own urges as viewers: We enjoy the visually breathtaking footage even as we cringe at the measures the ballerina must take to make them a reality. We are a part of the system that calls on her to destroy herself to achieve perfection. It haunted me personally with memories of dancers I have known, all of whom have suffered through injuries and battled pain in the name of beauty.

Natalie Portman faces off with the Black Swan

Rivalry -
The movie is rife with rivalry among women. The premise of Swan Lake is a rivalry between the Black Swan and the White Swan. This rivalry is mirrored by the conflict within the company between the young ballerina who is cast as the lead (played by Natalie Portman), and a young ballerina who has just joined the company (played by Mila Kunis. In addition, the protagonist fights against the memory of the company’s long-standing star (played by Winona Ryder), who is forced into retirement by the protagonist’s arrival. An even more disturbing is the dynamic between the protagonist and her mother, a failed ballerina who relives her dreams through her daughter? And of course, the protagonist’s inner struggle can be seen as a kind of battle between her inner black and white swans battling it out. This conflict, a rivalry among women, reminds me of several examples within the Torah: Sarah’s cruelty in ousting Haggar to achieve primacy in Abraham’s life; Rachel and Leah, each with their own claim to Jacob’s heart, as sisters who spend their life competing for one man. In the world of the Bible, there is often one man for two women and they compete for his attention, his sexual offerings, the rights of their children to raise as heirs. In these competitions, the cruelty of otherwise exalted figures, such as Sarah, is revealed, and the ties between women, even sisters, are destroyed. Indeed, Black Swan is such a battle, where the cunning of women is employed to manipulate and destroy, to cajole and seduce, and the men are almost irrelevant–the battle is one of a need for primacy in power and beauty. The men (the prince in Swan Lake, the head of the company in Black Swan) serve only to mirror the inner struggles of the protagonist learning about herself: Does she have the power to be perfect? Will she destroy, or be destroyed?

Natalie Portman

Age and Youth -
Another important theme of the movie, which ties into the idea of rivalry is the question of aging, one that is particularly relevant for ballerinas, who rely on their body for their career. In the movie, two characters represent what happens to a ballerina when her career ends: the protagonist’s mother, and the former star of the company. Each of these characters is lost in a world of pain and inflicts pain on the young protagonist in different ways. The protagonist and her mother have a relationship that eludes explanation, because it touches on real love in the most destructive way. The mother is both a truly loving and caring mother, and, at the same time, a smothering monster who relies on her young daughter to live the life she never had. The fading star of the troupe, on the other hand, is full of fire and fury, crazed at the idea that she has been usurped. At the same time, she is the protagonist’s role model; the protagonist passionately wants to be her, stealing her makeup, her dressing room, her throne. And even as she does these things, she is scared of becoming the star, as this marks the pinnacle of her career, from which she can only decline. In short, the protagonist is marked by one of the most ancient curses, that of the young heir. The heir must fight against what was once his family, sometimes committing unspeakable acts against his own kin in the name of rising to the throne. Like the kings of the Book of Kings, who repeatedly attack their own family members to achieve more and more power, the protagonist must break free and indeed hurt her own role models to confirm her place in the world. And once she has reached the top, she must await the inevitable–someone new, young and powerful to come and steal her crown.