The tour hasn’t even started yet, but Matisyahu is already deep in the work. The kind of work that happens before the lights, before the crowd, before the first bass note hums through the floor. When I reached him, he was talking about merch — not the brand-blasted kind, but something that sounded more like design philosophy.
“I wanted it to be something I’d actually wear,” he told me. “Less about my name, more about the design. More about what I’d want to wear.”
He was talking about T-shirts, but he could have been talking about music. For him, the line between what you wear and what you make is thinner than most people realize. The process is the same: you’re building something that feels right, that holds up to your own taste. Something honest enough to stand next to you.
The artist born Matthew Miller has been through a few evolutions. The world first met him as the Hasidic reggae singer — the anomaly with the yarmulke and beat-boxing cadence, whose breakout single King Without a Crown caught everyone mid-breath. But years later, the headlines have caught up with the person: not a costume, not a concept, just a man constantly editing himself into clarity.
Right now, that clarity sounds like an album that’s both grounded and celestial — a mix of old instincts and new discipline. And the way he describes his creative process, it’s clear that for him, creation is less about the finished product than about chasing that rare alignment of mind, body, and spirit.
“The music comes first,” he said, “but it’s more complicated than that. It kind of goes back and forth.” He doesn’t sit down and write poetry. The lyrics come out of motion — from jams, beats, and the sonic sketches that evolve into something real. “Sometimes we’ll record tour rehearsals, and months later I’ll go back to those jams. That’s where songs are born.”
His latest project leaned on collaboration more than any before it. Through a network called Songwrite Club, he worked with dozens of producers and writers, sending out mood boards of songs that inspired him, pulling back what felt alive. “They’d send me beat packs — sometimes a thousand beats. I’d listen until something clicked. And sometimes, it’s instant. You hear it and you’re writing already.”
He laughs at the image — one man lost in a sea of beats, trying to find a heartbeat that matches his own — but that’s where he lives creatively. “It’s a process of listening for what’s real. I’ll hear something and go, yeah, that’s perfect. That’s it.”
He invited writers and producers to his place in New York, turning it into a small creative lab. “Sometimes it’s too many people, but sometimes it’s magic,” he said. “When someone brings a melody I’d never think to sing, it pushes me. It’s still me, but it’s new.”
That’s the key word that keeps surfacing in his voice — new. Not as in novelty, but as in vitality. He doesn’t want to re-create old versions of himself. He wants to feel something now.
Listening to him, you realize this isn’t just a studio process — it’s a way of being. He approaches music, clothes, food, and faith the same way: searching for what feels alive.
When I asked him about playing Savannah, he said that he requested it. “I told my agent I wanted to play places I don’t always play. I wanted to come to Savannah and Athens. So here we are.”
When I told him about a few of Savannah’s farm-to-table spots, he said, “Yeah, that would be dope.” It’s the same principle as the merch — food that gives you energy instead of taking it away, but still tastes amazing. He paused when I said that, like it hit a familiar chord. “That’s the perfect way of describing it,” he said. “That’s great.”
That simple idea — food that gives energy instead of taking it — might be the cleanest way to describe what Matisyahu is after in his life right now. He’s looking for the energy-giving kind of everything.
It is about something closer to intention — a philosophy of making and living that ties everything together: the sound, the words, the shirts, the stage.
“It’s a holistic experience,” he said finally. “That’s what I’m looking for in life — one that has purpose, where it’s mind, body, spirit. All in. You’re looking for those moments where you’re just in it. Music can take you there. Food can take you there. Certain things in life take you there in different ways.”
“You have to be able to tap into those moments in life if you want to tap into them in art. To recreate them for people — that’s a different level. To get beyond yourself, and share something real — that takes focus. You have to slow down.”
From his earliest hits to the new material, that’s been the constant — a search for truth that feels good in your body, not just your head. The kind of song you can live in. The kind of T-shirt you actually want to wear.
Matisyahu
w/ Special Guest Aaron Dugan
Play Victory North in Savannah this
Thursday, Oct 23
