Mike Karuchi, The Israeli Singer Who Impressed the King of Morocco, Talks About His Life Dream

The singer Mike Karuchi (55) emigrated to Israel from Casablanca in the early 1990s. As a renowned singer who performed for Moroccan kings, he fears that by 2019, with a new generation of musicians emerging, there will be no one left to pass on the immense Pandora's box of Andalusian music, whose roots lie in medieval Spain. Currently, he is promoting the establishment of a school for piyut in his hometown - Be'er Sheva. To grasp the pain Karuchi feels, a pain mixed with hope, one must go back several decades.

Karuchi is a descendant of a Jewish lineage tracing back to Rabbi Yosef Caro, one of the greatest halachic authorities and the author of the Shulchan Aruch. His original family name was Caro. During the family's wanderings in Italy, the surname changed from Caro to Karuchi. Artists and singers representing the genre in the 1980s and 1990s realized that only the back door was open to the musical culture rooted in the Maghreb countries. Unlike them, Karuchi did not grow up with the protest of the Black Panthers, who cried out the cries of Moroccan emigrants in the 1970s.

In those years, Moroccan culture was pushed to the margins of Israeli society. In a parallel, almost entirely different life, young Karuchi toured abroad with the 'Cobra' band. There he was exposed to Western music, learned to play drums, violin, piano, bendir, and tar. As he matured, he began performing for Hassan, the Prince of Morocco, who ruled the country until the late 1990s. Karuchi also performed for his successor, the current King of Morocco, Mohammed VI. To set the scene, the status of music in Morocco is considered to be on par with arts such as literature or painting. Therefore, musicians are not only seen as artists but as intellectuals, spiritual individuals with deep understanding in their field. The ones chosen to perform before the king are often considered virtuosos, akin to master artists who understand the subtleties of the language and grammar and, similar to the great Egyptian singers Abdel Halim Hafez, Umm Kulthum, and Mohamed Abdel Wahab, can narrate a song for 40 minutes.

Karuchi's mileage in his musical career is too long to summarize briefly. He crossed Israeli borders long ago and has been a sought-after singer in Morocco since his youth, among the Jewish community and beyond. His brother, Maxime Karuchi, continues to perform regularly for the current king.

Today, Karuchi is one of the prominent artists bringing Moroccan music to the forefront, devoid of protest. Music that long ago became an integral part of the Israeli mainstream soundtrack – as it's alive and kicking, dancing the words and rolling them with quite a bit of self-humor. Music that brings distant scents from the Maghreb countries. Recently, he participated in a project in honor of Baba Sali along with Michael Peretz, Lior Elmaliach, Benjamin Bouzaglo, and Eric Meshali. 'The grandchildren of Baba Sali are my friends,' Karuchi said this week. 'From the day I came to Israel, I've been holding their celebrations. Baba Sali is holiness, humility - it's everything. It must be preserved.'

Karuchi notes that when he doesn't sing, he is silent. At least 20 days a month, he imposes a speech fast on himself to connect with the spirituality of the song, the depth of the words, the secrets passed down for thousands of years from father to son. To those melodies that evoke nostalgia for the Moroccan mother's home - mama diali. 'During those fasting days, I neither eat nor speak. Even at work, I don't say things unrelated to it. The reason is that I want to step onto the stage and bring something spiritual.

'Silence maintains internal quiet,' he explains. 'During the fast, I study Torah, searching for the inner peace and satisfaction. We are in a material world, and it is necessary to allow the soul to calm down. When one doesn't talk, they conserve a lot. When listening from the side to two people having a conversation, it illustrates how much better it is to remain silent. In any case, I only talk about music. On that topic, I can argue, but only with those who understand. With those who don't understand, I do not argue.'

The King of Morocco Was In Awe and Said: "A Jew Will Always Remain a Jew"

Karuchi resides in Be'er Sheva with his wife, and they have three children and a granddaughter. 'On my father's side, I am the sixth generation of singers. My maternal grandfather was Rabbi Salaly Afriyat, whom I did not know. Even though I arrived relatively late, I became an Israeli only a few years ago. Jews in Morocco still live well today and in the past were able to live and observe their customs without problems or antisemitism, at least during my time.'

Karuchi shares the experiences of performing before the King of Morocco: 'Performing for the king is an extraordinary event. Not everyone gets to do it. I performed in front of King Hassan when he was still a prince, and also before the current king. They knew we were Jews, of course, and respected our ways of life. Performing before the king has lots of power. The king doesn't choose a singer solely for their beautiful voice. We would perform before Ramadan, for instance, which included three days of concerts at the palace's cultural hall. Back then, no one knew who the king's wife or mother was; it was forbidden to see them. The royal family would sit behind a screen. Men and women were seated separately. The king sat forward, seeing from his right and left and the band on stage. There was a person responsible for organization, like a producer, who would give the king a list of singers, and he would decide who would perform.'

Mike with the Darbuka

'We performed in front of the king as children. My father brought us before King Hassan. We got on stage, sang one song, and he requested several more. We sang for an hour and a half. The king would allow singers to make a request. That was the custom. Most singers would ask for financial help, while we, when asked what we wanted, replied that he should continue living, have health and success. The king was surprised and touched, responding, 'A Jew will always remain a Jew.'

'From there, we began performing at weddings of royal officials. I played in the regular band that accompanied Prince Hassan, who effectively ruled.'

In Morocco, singers have a special status; they are spiritual individuals. 'In contrast, like someone getting ordained as a rabbi only if he's well-versed in Torah, Talmud, Zohar, halakha, etc., a singer there must understand the nuances and meanings of words. They aren't impressed just by someone who can sing or has a nice voice but ask about their knowledge and depth. It's deeper. Some songs are sung like stories lasting 45 minutes; it's like a ballad, not just words.'

Karuchi received his musical education at age 8. 'Until I was 14, I studied Andalusian music with a senior teacher. At 11, I played the darbuka and started accompanying my father's band. At 15, I joined the "Cobra" band, and we performed in Morocco, France, and England. Visits to Israel also exposed me to Western music. I worked in well-known clubs with famous singers from Lebanon, Egypt, and Tunisia. By the way, I never encountered antisemitic remarks or refusals to perform with me because I was Jewish. In music, it doesn't exist, maybe, and even then rarely, you'll hear someone in the street saying something. If they said to us, "Go to your country," we'd say, "What do you mean, my country? I was here before you." After all, Judaism in Morocco predates the arrival of Islam, so there were no clashes. There was mutual respect, and that's still the case.'

"They Want Me Back in Morocco, But I Want to Contribute to the State of Israel"

He met his wife in Israel when Karuchi was invited to sing at a henna ceremony: 'After the wedding, we lived in Morocco for several years, and my wife wanted to stay there forever. But I by no means want to return. By Hashem's will, our daughter married a religious man, and that's my joy, we live our Judaism. Today, they talk about the Exodus, but we live it. We came here after 2,000 years of wandering; I returned here after the Jewish people endured pogroms, and all our roots are planted in Russia, Italy, and Morocco. I believe in this gathering of exiles.'

In 2014, Karuchi received a special honorary title as an ambassador of culture and education from King Mohammed VI of Morocco, who personally conferred the title along with three other artists. 'They want me back in Morocco to contribute to projects, but I want to contribute to the State of Israel.'

Do you think Andalusian music should be taught as part of the school curriculum?

"It's not just Andalusian music. We need to teach about the heritage of Judaism in the Maghreb countries and the value of our music. We need to study the roots in depth. That's the reason I decided to establish a piyut school, where a professional team will focus on teaching the roots of the music."

Yitzhak Azulai (37), Karuchi's partner in the initiative, joins the conversation. 'Mike is among the few in the field who understand the significance of this matter. We wanted to preserve the heritage of Morocco and Andalusian music. That's why we approached him, and he embraced the idea. By Hashem's will, the project is in the stages of establishment; it will take place within Judaism's foundations inside a magnificent synagogue in Be'er Sheva. We are currently receiving inquiries from all towns. Besides transferring and preserving knowledge, we aim to establish an Andalusian choir composed of talented individuals in the area. We are very connected to this music, were born into it, and grew up on it. I believe many people from our community at my age love it. We want the learning to be spiritual as well; after all, the piyut singing originated from Andalusian music. Music wins. A true musician understands that Moroccan music is art, and Andalusian music is a concert in every respect, certainly not less than Beethoven.'

The school will incorporate studies in singing, maqam, cantillation, and more. Azulai emphasizes: 'Mike knows the secrets of language and grammar. He knows how to combine words with rhythm. We want to teach how to blend singing with prayer. Some people can sing but need to convey the tune into prayer; it opens the heart during prayer.'

Karuchi clarifies: 'I am afraid that the heritage of Jewish Morocco will one day disappear, as it is written: "A new king who did not know Joseph." I learned, and I have knowledge that I can pass on to the new generation. This knowledge is passed from generation to generation. I also want to preserve Iraqi and Tunisian music and create a blend between them so they can be studied, akin to a dish with all flavors. The new generation has grown up with something different; they gravitate towards other things, and the music is entirely different. In the past, children went to the synagogue, where they heard and listened to Moroccan melodies based on Andalusian music; today, it has decreased, so the need for preservation is only increasing. By Hashem's will, I believe we will succeed.'