What’s the connection between a rabbi in North Hollywood and traditions stretching back before the Spanish Inquisition?
Plenty, in the case of Rabbi-Cantor Haim Louk.
Born and reared in Morocco, Louk is a world-recognized virtuoso in an ancient musical heritage that grew out of the shared cultures of Jews and Muslims who lived in Andalusia, Spain, about 600 to 700 years ago.
Called L’Ala, some 1,100 melodies were carried to Morocco by Jews and Muslims expelled from their Spanish homeland in 1492. The songs have resonated from Moroccan synagogues and mosques ever since.
Louk, 57, will bring those long-preserved songs to Berkeley on Sunday, March 14, when he performs at the 14th annual Jewish Music Festival. He has served as the rabbi and cantor of a Sephardic congregation in the Los Angeles area for the last 13 years.
His recital includes Piyutim, or religious poetry, along with Sephardi chants and the old Andalusian music sung in both Hebrew and Arabic.
“In Spain proper, this music is almost gone,” said Louk, speaking through an interpreter in a telephone interview. But in Morocco, “through generations, this music has been preserved in both mosques and synagogues.”
Preserved so well, in fact, that Louk needs no rehearsal when he performs with Muslim musicians. “It’s exact to the beat,” he said. “The melodies are so accurately synchronized. There are no musical notes written and [we] could sing for hours and not be offbeat.”
“Everywhere people always ask, ‘How are you able to have such accuracy and such beat without notes? How are you able to do this?'”
He explained simply that “once you sing it, you know it. That’s just the nature of the music.”
Louk theorizes that as with some forms of jazz, “it was not written maybe so there would be room for personal expression and melody.”
At the same time, “it’s a music that’s complete in the sense you cannot add to it. It’s done. The 1,100 melodies are given from generation to generation. It’s something that has some aspect of holiness to it.”
Louk learned his art by singing in his synagogue’s children’s choir when he was growing up in Casablanca. In Morocco, ancient Andalusian music is considered classical, he said.
“It’s not something historical of the past. If you come to our synagogue on Shabbat, that’s what you hear.”
He said, however, that the music could be lost unless it’s nurtured by future generations. Members of his North Hollywood congregation have formed a group, called Project Heritage, that is seeking to save their musical heritage with tapes and recordings of Louk’s performances.
Louk, who also has lived in England and Israel, regularly sings the traditional music during services at his synagogue, Em Habanim. The Sephardic congregation was formed 25 years ago by Moroccan Jews.
Louk also performs regularly throughout the world, including Morocco, Israel and France. After his appearance in Berkeley, he will travel to Paris for a recital.
With a voice that is rich and lyrical, Louk will be accompanied in Berkeley by musicians playing the violin, Arabic lute, hand drum and tar.
His performance will take place during daylight hours — at 3 p.m. at U.C. Berkeley’s International House, to be exact. But many of the liturgical melodies he sings traditionally are performed at 2 a.m. on Shabbat mornings while congregants wait for their regular service to begin.
Called bakkashot, or “praises of God,” the songs have a religious theme corresponding to each Shabbat between Sukkot and Purim, Louk said.
The custom recently has been revived among groups of Sephardim in Israel, Louk said.
“Every Shabbat has its own group of melodies,” he said. “For people who are not as connected with the Torah portion, they become familiar with the text.”
In Morocco, Louk’s own teacher “had a synagogue so full there would be people waiting to get in” well before dawn, he said. “Apparently, even Muslims would wait to go in.”
Andalusian music serves as a “bridge” between present day Jews and Muslims, Louk said. At a 1995 performance he gave at the Tazi Palace in Morocco, most members of the audience were Muslim. “When there’s something like music, it’s not threatening,” he said. “It’s an area where people can come together.”