Shuly Nathan, known for her iconic rendition of Naomi Shemer’s “Jerusalem of Gold/Yerushalayim Shel Zahav,” is one of the most regarded musical names in Israel’s history. What I learned recently is that her son, Ken Weiss, lives outside Boston. Weiss reached out to me recently as his friend Nani Vazana, a millennial Ladino songwriter, made plans to tour Boston. Their friendship is fueled by passion for Ladino culture, Jewish music, and bringing the past into the present. Now, as Vazana heads to the iconic Club Passim on Feb. 10, I wanted to share a bit of conversation between them—children of the Jewish musical tradition with Sephardic roots, bridging the Jewish past and present through music.
You both have Sephardic roots. How have these roots connected you to one another?
Weiss: Nani and I connected the easy way through music first, then everything behind the music. We both grew up in homes where songs weren’t “a hobby,” they were just part of the air. You learn early that some melodies can carry the whole family history and in a way connect you to your ancestors. My Sephardic connection is a little complicated. Part of my background traces back to the Portuguese and Spanish regions, but I didn’t grow up in what you’d call a “Sephardic household.” What I did grow up with was my mom’s voice, Shuly Nathan, singing constantly, and mixed into that soundtrack were Ladino songs that somehow felt like they lived in the walls: “Adio Kerida,” “Avram Avinu,” “La Rosa Enflorece,” “Irme Kero Madre a Yerushalayim.” So, when I met Nani, it felt familiar right away, like we grew up listening to the same vinyl record.
Vazana: We have that shared “roots curiosity.” Even if your upbringing is different, when you’re both chasing the same thread, language, old melodies, stories from grandparents, you understand each other quickly. And Ken is very open-hearted. He listens like a musician, but also like a friend.
Was there a concert or song that first connected you or that feels significant to both of you?
Weiss: This was very cool and not so long ago—seeing Nani live flipped a switch on in me. I had honestly forgotten how many Ladino songs were sitting inside me until I heard her perform. The moment I remember most clearly is hearing her and suddenly having “Avram Avinu” come back to me. It reminded me of being a kid and hearing my mom sing in the house. After that show, I called my mom and asked her about those songs and she just started singing them to me like no time had passed.
Vazana: Yes, Ken drove three hours to come see me play live in Putney at Next Stage Arts. He showed up, stayed late, and we hung out after like old friends. That kind of effort is meaningful, real connection.
Vazana: A mix of traditional Ladino songs and my original songs in Ladino. The traditional material is full of stories: mothers and daughters, broken hearts, cooking, gossip, magic, fairy tales. And then my original songs bring that same language into now: themes like migration, gender, womanhood, identity, contemporary millennial life, but with an ancient tongue. Also, I talk to the audience. I tell stories behind the songs and the culture they came from. For me, it’s not a museum performance. It’s alive. Every show is a little different because the audience changes the night. Anything special because Ken will be there? Vazana: Ken might surprise me. I’m not promising anything because the best moments happen live, in the moment. Music is a dialogue; it’s never a monologue. The room, the sound, the crowd—it all matters. Weiss: I’ve been learning some of my mom’s songs on guitar lately, which is honestly pretty emotional for me. I do these video chats with my mom and she’ll stop me mid-song and say, “Play faster! Your audience will fall asleep.” That’s my mother in one sentence. So, yes, maybe we’ll do a song together. And if we do, I’ll say this publicly in advance: My voice is not as beautiful as my mom’s, but my heart will be in it! Why do you think preserving and reinventing Ladino music matters today? Vazana: Because it’s a whole world, and we’re in danger of losing worlds. Ladino holds history, humor, pain, love, everything, and it also holds a way of thinking. When you keep it alive, you’re not only saving old songs. You’re keeping a language and a community memory breathing. I once said in an interview: “I play Ladino because when I look at the past, I can see the future.” Being in touch with roots helps you understand where you are now and it helps you move forward with more clarity. That can be personal in a small way—singing one song, cooking one family recipe—or it can become a whole artistic life. I hope what I do encourages other people to explore their own roots, in whatever way feels right. Experience Nani Vazana’s soulful, modern take on the Ladino tradition at Club Passim on Tuesday, Feb. 10, at 8 p.m., and feel how history, language, and memory come alive through song. Get tickets.
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