It’s a cool, crisp evening in Los Angeles. A minyan (a gathering of 10 adult Jewish males who get together to participate in communal prayer) is forming mere steps from where I’m standing while a sea of yamakas and facial hair pass me by. The air is filled with excitement as young men and women converse in English with an occasional Yiddish or Hebrew word thrown in the mix for good measure. Some in the crowd carry miniature Israeli flags as they excitedly wave the light blue Star of David to and fro. No, I’m not in LA’s Fairfax District in front of the famous Canter’s Deli or around Melrose and La Brea on the Sabbath. I’m on Sunset.Though it’s a Thursday, Sunset Blvd. is crackin’ tonight. On the boulevard, you can feel the hustle and bustle of cars and people moving. The street’s alive. In particular, the area surrounding the House of Blues Sunset is where the action seems to be. But why the commotion? Why so many people? Why so many Jewish people?

One word. Matisyahu.

For those unfamiliar with Matisyahu, allow me to explain this new sensation causing such a stir in the entertainment industry and currently being featured on everything from MTV to NPR. Matisyahu is a reggae artist – a pretty damn good reggae artist with an ability to skillfully beat-box that rivals any New York City corner-block latchkey kid. And having been trained musically, he’s got an amazing voice too. Oh, and one more minor detail… he’s a devout Hasidic Jew. No, seriously – traditional get-up, beard and all, rocking a mic in one hand, the Torah in the other. Okay, not really… the part about the Torah, but he might as well.

It’s about 9pm and I’m feeling good, really good. I’m on four hours of sleep and the mind elevation is definitely kicking in. My friend and I are standing out by the parking lot by the tour bus. There’s a small crowd of 20-something Jewish males congregating by the bus talking excitedly. By chance, my buddy and I recognize one of the guys in the crowd. He was our neighbor during college and we hadn’t seen him in what had to be at least four years. He looks the same except for the beard and the yamaka. Anyway, he informs us that Matisyahu is on his way to pray with them before the show – a far departure from the proverbial pre-show coke binges of other rock stars. The Maarid or Arvit I believe it’s called. Sure enough, a tall (he’s at least 6’4”), lanky – almost awkward looking – Jewish dude quickly approaches the group. It’s Matisyahu and he’s received like a prophet. My friend and I back off – we contemplated trying to blend into the group, but as good as we are at blending in, we were pretty sure they’d notice a teary-eyed Latino and a buzzing Indian.

The prayer takes just a few minutes and Matisyahu jets with a hero’s farewell. We stay chatting it up with our friend for a bit more when we hear the roar of the crowd escape the building. I finish up my smoke and we run over to the door. By the time we get inside and grab disgustingly overpriced drinks, Matisyahu is on stage belting out “Lord Raise Me Up.” The crowd sings along almost drowning out the main attraction himself. Amidst the few plumes of smoke arising from the audience, a joyous chorus belts out, “Lord raise me up / From the ground / I’ve been here to long.”

By now (after one song), I’ve lost track of time but my notepad is still legible – good. Another song follows “Lord…” followed by “Chop ‘em Down.” The crowd erupts into a frenzy as an ocean of Jews and Gentiles sway, bounce, and rock out to that sweet ragga music. If you’ve heard “Chop ‘em Down” then you know that it’s basically a musical history of the Jewish faith – each stanza a brief anecdote of a hero of the Torah. The way the crowd was acting, though, you could’ve sworn he was Elvis singing “Hound Dog.”

“Warrior,” my favorite song of his, was next at almost 10 minutes in length. For an outro to the track, Matisyahu began one of a couple series of sermonizing. It felt like being at temple (not that I’ve ever really been to temple), but it was great – I mean, if R. Kelly can invoke the Big Guy in every record and at every awards show, why can’t Matisyahu give some ups to his boy?

After the brief homily, Matisyahu began with another song followed by “King Without a Crown.” The crowd goes nuts. Until now, there really hasn’t been a break. The set thus far has been rolling non-stop and it would continue with an absolutely amazing free-style beat box session that blew the roof off the House of Blues.

Another new song (or one that I was unfamiliar with – the latter part of the night is a bit sketchy) preceded a brief guitar interlude followed by another new jam. From here the 26-year-old segued into “Aish Tamid” complete with the poetry break in the middle (or as is written in my notes: “poerty”). At this point, my friend – in a haze of Mary Jane and Foster’s – so perceptively observes that he, “Don’t barely see any Rastafarian people.” At the time, this comment was the funniest thing I’d ever heard but he was right; “Jew-fros” abounded with the occasional white boy dreads here and there. It is also at this point that my notepad becomes unintelligible and my memory gets just a tad bit blurred.

What I do remember, however, is that the night ended as strong as it had started. After a few more songs (including “Exaltation”), a well-received encore, and an invocation to “invite the angels to come down,” the show was over as beads of sweat gently hung over the brows of those in attendance. As the sold-out crowd filtered out through the doors, I couldn’t help but reflect on what an experience this night had been. The show was fulfilling – both musically as well as spiritually. One couldn’t help but leave the House of Blues smiling.

I wasn’t quite sure what time the show ended, but it was pretty late and I was tired – happy, but tired. As we walked towards our cars under the clear West Hollywood sky, there was only one thing left to be said to complete such a great night, “Let’s get some food, yo.” Nosh anyone?