A few hours after midnight last night, I found myself in a basement room in Jerusalem's Tower of David, watching and listening with two dozen revelers as a band of robots made from recycled household ...

Critics aren't supposed to cry at concerts. But I did. Listening to reggae artist Matisyahu perform, I cried. In a Midwestern city, in the heat of midsummer dusk, standing midway between the stage and ...

I agonized over this. We’re now in the nine-day mourning period approaching Tisha B’Av. Music is not appropriate. Can we observe by listening to music of the season? Well, I decided to go with it.