
Ron Yeffet's Jewish Heritage and Its Influence on His Music
In this article, we'll explore how Ron Yeffet's Jewish roots have influenced his musical journey, from childhood memories of traditional songs to the sense of resilience and community that guides his work today. His story offers a meaningful reminder that our heritage can enrich our creativity and deepen our connections with people from all walks of life.
Ron Yeffet was born and raised in New York City, where his home life was steeped in the warmth of Jewish traditions. His parents, proud of their heritage, created an environment that balanced love for music with respect for cultural values. Shabbat dinners were a weekly highlight, bringing extended family together around the table to share stories, laughter, and sometimes songs that had been passed down for generations. Jewish holidays like Hanukkah and Passover were celebrated with lively gatherings, filled with rituals, food, and melodies that left a lasting impression on Ron.
His mother, a piano teacher, and his father, an avid music lover, encouraged him not only to practice but to appreciate the emotional depth in music — an approach that aligned beautifully with the Jewish tradition of storytelling through song. These experiences taught Ron that music wasn't just for entertainment; it was a way of expressing identity, sharing joy, and honoring one's roots.
This upbringing gave him a strong foundation of community and a deep sense of belonging, qualities that would later shine through in his playing and his dedication to his students.
Some of Ron Yeffet's earliest musical memories are tied to the songs he heard during family celebrations and community events. While he gravitated toward rock and blues as he grew older, traditional Jewish melodies — from festive Hanukkah songs to soulful Passover tunes — helped train his ear to recognize subtle shifts in mood, timing, and dynamics. He remembers listening to relatives sing songs in Hebrew or Yiddish, their voices rising and falling with a unique sense of phrasing and ornamentation that captivated him.
Even though Ron didn't set out to become a player of traditional Jewish music, these early sounds influenced the way he approached the guitar later on. He learned that emotion could be communicated through tiny variations in note bends, timing, and vibrato — lessons that would become crucial when interpreting the expressive solos of classic rock or teaching students how to make songs their own.
According to Ron in conversations with students during lessons, 'The songs I heard growing up taught me that music is about telling a story with feeling, not just hitting the right notes.' These cultural rhythms instilled in him a deep appreciation for music's ability to move people, a lesson he continues to share with students today.
Beyond melodies and songs, Ron Yeffet's Jewish upbringing instilled in him values that have become cornerstones of his approach to music and teaching. Central among these is a sense of community: growing up, Ron saw firsthand how gatherings during Shabbat or holidays brought people together, creating bonds that extended far beyond family. This sense of belonging taught him that music, too, can build bridges — whether between teacher and student, performer and audience, or people from different backgrounds.
Another value Ron absorbed was resilience. Stories shared by older relatives about overcoming hardship, along with cultural traditions emphasizing perseverance, shaped Ron's mindset as both a musician and a teacher. He believes that setbacks are part of every journey, and that true growth comes from the determination to keep moving forward. According to Ron during a 2025 student Q&A, 'Music reflects life — you'll hit wrong notes, but what matters is how you keep playing.'
Finally, Ron's heritage taught him the importance of joy. In Jewish celebrations, music often expresses happiness even during difficult times, reminding him of music's power to uplift. This perspective influences how he encourages students to find moments of fun in every practice session, helping them stay positive and connected to the reasons they started learning guitar in the first place.
Although classic rock and traditional Jewish music might seem worlds apart at first glance, Ron Yeffet sees striking similarities that have inspired his own style. Traditional Jewish melodies, especially klezmer music, often feature expressive bends, slides, and ornamentation designed to mimic the human voice — qualities that also define the soulful guitar solos of artists like Hendrix or Clapton.
Ron points out that both genres prioritize emotion over perfection, valuing the ability to move listeners over technical flashiness alone. By studying the phrasing and improvisational spirit of Jewish songs, he developed skills that translated naturally into his interpretations of classic rock. This connection has also shaped his teaching: when students struggle with making their solos sound alive, Ron sometimes introduces them to short klezmer-inspired phrases to demonstrate how subtle pitch bends and dynamic shifts can make a big difference.
According to students who learned these techniques with Ron in 2024, 'He shows you how emotion in music isn't tied to one genre — it's a universal skill you can apply anywhere.' This unique approach gives Ron's students a broader, more creative toolkit, and highlights how cultural traditions can enrich modern musical styles.
Being open about his Jewish heritage in the diverse and often competitive world of music hasn't always been easy, but Ron Yeffet believes it's important. Over the years, he's encountered occasional misunderstandings or stereotypes, but he's learned to handle them with calm and openness, viewing these moments as opportunities to educate others and share his perspective.
Ron feels strongly that musicians should never feel pressured to hide or downplay their backgrounds. Instead, he sees authenticity as a strength — something that can set an artist apart and deepen their connection with audiences. He also understands that embracing one's heritage can inspire others to do the same, creating a ripple effect of acceptance and curiosity.
According to Ron in a 2024 reflection shared with advanced students, 'When you're honest about who you are, people connect with your music on a deeper level. It's not about labels — it's about sharing what makes you unique.' By standing proudly in his identity, Ron has built a reputation as a musician who brings not just skill, but heart and integrity to every performance and lesson.
Ron Yeffet's heritage isn't something he keeps separate from his role as a teacher; instead, it shapes how he approaches each lesson and interacts with every student. He draws on cultural values like empathy, patience, and storytelling to create an environment where students feel understood and supported. For Ron, teaching guitar is as much about building character as it is about building musical skill.
He often encourages students to think about the stories behind the songs they play, helping them connect emotionally with the music and understand that every note can tell a story — a concept deeply rooted in Jewish traditions of narrative and meaning. By sharing his own experiences growing up in a culturally rich household, he shows students that music isn't just a technical pursuit, but a powerful way to express identity and connect with others.
According to testimonials from adult students in 2025, 'Ron makes you feel like your background matters, and he teaches in a way that respects who you are. It's more than just guitar — it's personal.' By weaving these principles into his teaching, Ron helps students not only become better musicians, but also more confident, thoughtful individuals.
Ron Yeffet believes music is one of the most universal ways to celebrate and share one's culture with the world. He sees his performances and lessons as opportunities to highlight the positive aspects of his Jewish heritage, breaking down barriers and inspiring curiosity among audiences and students who may be unfamiliar with Jewish traditions.
Whether through subtle melodic choices influenced by Jewish music or by simply sharing stories from his upbringing, Ron uses his platform to promote understanding and appreciation of cultural diversity. He encourages others to look into their own backgrounds for inspiration, believing that exploring one's roots can lead to richer artistic expression and a deeper sense of identity.
According to Ron's comments during a 2024 community event, 'Our traditions give us unique stories to tell. When we bring those stories into our music, we create something authentic that can touch anyone, no matter where they're from.'This belief in music's power to unite and celebrate differences is a driving force behind Ron's continued dedication to his craft.
Ron Yeffet's Jewish heritage has played a quiet but profound role in shaping the musician, teacher, and person he is today. From the melodies he heard during childhood celebrations to the values of resilience, community, and joy passed down through generations, these influences have helped him create a distinctive voice on the guitar and a compassionate presence in the classroom.
His story is a testament to the idea that embracing one's roots doesn't limit artistic expression — it enriches it, offering depth, authenticity, and a powerful connection to the past. Through his playing and teaching, Ron continues to show that music can honor heritage, celebrate identity, and bring people together across cultures and generations.
TIME BUSINESS NEWS

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Los Angeles Times
a day ago
- Los Angeles Times
Their dream kitchens burned in the Eaton fire. What got them cooking again
Two cooks talk about loss and recovery. Plus, our summer cook-along with 'Chef That!' Also, advice on cooking for dogs and eating with dogs, taquito comfort and fan-service restaurants (or what Day 1 was like at the Tesla Diner). I'm Laurie Ochoa, general manager of L.A. Times Food, with this week's Tasting Notes. The most beautiful kitchen I ever cooked in was far from perfect. It was built into one of six Pasadena apartments that in the 1920s had been carved out of a Victorian mansion designed by Frederick Roehrig, the architect behind Old Town Pasadena's Hotel Green and its surviving annex, Castle Green. The dining room and kitchen had once been a grand parlor room with a fireplace at one end and most of the original wood details still on the walls and ceiling. The kitchen's counter curved with the arc of several windows set into the bend of one wall, with soft sunlight filtering in through the greenery planted outside. But the stove, relocated and updated since the days Jonathan Gold and I occupied that apartment, was a finicky old thing. And the counter, so attractively placed, was too low for serious cooking. Our backs would often ache if there were too many vegetables to chop or dishes to wash. It was a dreamy kitchen, but it wasn't a dream kitchen. And yet, we made some of our happiest meals there. There are cooks I know who have had dream kitchens, spaces that were designed just for them and functioned according to their specific cooking needs. Ruth Reichl, author and former restaurant critic and editor, says she designed her U-shaped kitchen to fit her body and the open floor plan of the home she and her husband, Michael Singer, share in New York's Columbia County. With expansive views of the upper Hudson Valley, it's inviting but also intimate in its footprint; no more than two or three steps are required to reach most of her appliances and tools. During parties, Reichl is easily able to roll out pie dough while catching up with early-arriving guests and there is lots of counter space around the U for setting out platters of food that always tempt some hungry person before it's officially time to eat. Closer to home, I was lucky enough to be invited many times to the Altadena home of Michelle Huneven, novelist and food writer (often for this paper), and Jim Potter, an attorney specializing in environmental law and an accomplished bread baker. From big, crowded Seders at Passover to weekday soup meals, always with something wonderfully sweet at the end, I watched their modest cooking space expand and evolve into a beautiful, functional and comfortable modern space with a dining table at the center of the room that allowed guests to watch the interplay of two excellent cooks at work. 'I had a little 1,000-square-foot house, and when Jim and I married, that was fine for a while,' Huneven said recently in the Times Test Kitchen. 'Then he began to bake bread. And very shortly, everything in my little kitchen was covered with bread glue. I was like, 'We need a bigger kitchen.' Before we knew it, we'd designed a great big freestanding kitchen. I'm short, so in the place of overhead cabinets, we had windows out to our garden. He had his breadmaking area; I had my cooking area. We each had a sink. He had his own oven. And he had his own dishwasher. Praise the Lord.' Cookbook author Molly Baz's dream kitchen in Altadena was one I never saw in person but I interacted with it virtually through her 'Hit the Kitch' video series and Instagram feed. 'My home kitchen was also my place of work,' Baz said, sitting alongside Huneven in the Times Test Kitchen. 'My husband, [Ben Willett], designed the space as the heart of the home. It was an expansive space that was a hanging-out living room, lounge, bar, kitchen, all in this one large room. We designed the kitchen very intentionally to be the anchor of like everything I do, the place where I would shoot my cookbooks and all of my content, where I would develop all of my recipes. So we decided to do it all butter-colored, and it was just this beautiful monochromatic, creamy butter-yellow-colored dream.' As you've undoubtedly surmised by now, both Huneven and Baz lost their Altadena homes — and their dream kitchens — in the Eaton fire. 'We evacuated to a friend's house about 4:30 in the morning with another couple who lived much closer to Eaton Canyon,' Huneven said. 'When they learned that their house had burned, I found that so shocking that I just sat there with my hands over my mouth for about, I don't know, 15 minutes. I just couldn't absorb it. Then, at about 8 o'clock, Jim decided to drive up to our house. He later told me he'd known even before he drove up because he controlled the sprinklers and the solar panels from his phone, and nothing was responding. When he called me to say it was gone, he sent a picture of the house on the corner still burning with flames coming out of the windows, not a fire truck in sight. I was preconditioned for the loss, because I'd already reacted to one home burning down. I didn't cry until 48 hours later.' Baz's story is similar. 'I evacuated earlier, at 7:30 p.m., because some friends and neighbors had seen the fire, and it was creeping closer and closer,' she said. 'We never got a notice, but we decided, let's get out of here. Throughout the night, we were refreshing our phones, watching the map get populated with new homes that had burned. But the whole night, I was under the impression that my house had somehow by the grace of God gotten skipped because of this map. In the morning, my husband wanted to go to the house just to triple check and so, he got in the car and drove nervously up there. I got a call about 30 minutes later and he was just in tears. He was like, 'There's nothing left.' ' Huneven, whose newest, highly praised novel, 'Bug Hollow,' is anchored in Altadena, her longtime home, and Baz, who came to Altadena from Brooklyn in 2020 and started the mayo/sando sauce brand Ayoh! last year, are both terrific cooks with very different styles. When Baz came into Te Times to record a video demonstration of the highly craveable pistachio halva chocolate chunk cookie recipe she created for her second cook book 'More Is More,' I thought Huneven and Baz might want to meet each other. During their conversation about their experiences of loss and recovery, recorded by video producer Mark E. Potts, they immediately found things in common. 'One of the things that I wanted in the kitchen was a sofa,' Huneven said, 'so we had this beautiful, long window seat with big welted cushions. Every morning we would wake up and drink our tea and coffee there with the dog and look out into the garden and get ready for the day.' 'We also had a sitting area where we would start the day,' Baz said. 'We had a built-in couch that my husband designed, the first coffee table he ever made, and a chaise longue, which didn't really have a use until I had my son 10 months ago. It became the perfect place to nurse. I would have my coffee and nurse him on the chaise longue every morning. It was just kind of a perfect place.' After the fire, neither Huneven nor Baz felt much like cooking. 'I rebelled,' Huneven said. 'I didn't cook for two months. Or, rather, I cooked like two dinners, and it was the same dinner where I stuck a bunch of cherry tomatoes on a sheet pan, boiled some pasta and that was it, with maybe some burrata. I don't even remember how we ate. I mean, I say I wasn't traumatized, but it really was a blur.' 'I didn't cook for a while either,' Baz said. 'I got back into the kitchen to finish a recipe I was working on the day of the fire. It was a savory egg quiche, but treated like a burnt Basque cheesecake, cooked at a really high heat, a crustless quiche. I thought about taking it with me when we evacuated, but I expected I'd be back the next day. One of the the last things I said before I left was, 'Damn, I just wish the quiche was a little more burnt.' Because I had this vision of a really burnished exterior. And so later the quiche got burnt. Once I pulled myself together enough to think about food, that's the next thing I made. It was really comforting and cathartic. I made everyone leave the kitchen and was like, 'I'm cooking. I need to be alone.' So it was a bit of a therapy session for myself. And yeah, the quiche was delicious.' Both Baz and Huneven are living in different rental homes in Echo Park while they figure out the logistics of rebuilding. 'So much of cooking is a graceful dance,' Baz said, 'and I felt so ungraceful for the first three weeks that it made me not want to cook. I've gotten over that hump, and I think I'm regaining my muscle memory in this new space now. I feel like I can cook and not fumble around.' 'We moved into a completely empty house, nothing in the drawers. We had a couple of camping pans that had been in the trunk of our our truck. But one of the things that was so amazing is that we landed in a sea of generosity. I'm not wearing any clothes that I bought. They're all gifts. And people furnished our kitchen with a house-warming party, but it was really a kitchen warming. 'The incredible kindness and generosity of people, that's a gift I never anticipated,' Huneven continued. 'It's also really lessened the trauma. Because, you know, it's stuff, and it can be replaced. Houses can be rebuilt. Somebody said to me, 'This is the worst thing that's ever happened to you.' And I'm like, 'No, it's not.' You know, the loss of people that I've loved, some bad breakups in my youth. Now those were bad. This was bad too, but it's not the worst thing.' 'We lost all of the physical things,' Baz said, agreeing with Huneven. 'But it highlights what you do have, which is your relationships and your community. And that becomes the most important thing in the world. My friends and my family, the people who are holding me together in all of this, are everything to me right now. All of the bulls— just washes away. You learn and understand like that living is actually about humanity and people. The rest can burn down, and you're going to be OK.' Baz is just one of the cooks and chefs who have been to the Times Test Kitchen in recent weeks to meet our 'Chef That!' challenge: Come up with a recipe that demonstrates chef skills and creativity but is still simple enough for an average home cook to make. Our 'Chef That!' video series is ongoing, but this Sunday we're publishing a special cook-along recipe section full of summer recipes from the chef series plus a few from cookbook authors in our 'Book to Cook' video series. Among the recipes to look for, home-oven-cooked beef ribs with outdoor smoker flavor from Andrew and Michelle Muñoz of Moo's Craft Barbecue, spicy cold mung bean noodles from 88 Club's Mei Lin, Hailee Catalano's 'mean, green' turkey sandwich, the egg salad sando that Father's Office founder Sang Yoon serves at his Helm's Bakery complex in Culver City and an incredible grapefruit cream pie from Quarter Sheets' dessert guru Hannah Ziskin. Los Angeles, says senior Food editor Danielle Dorsey, is ranked the nation's most popular city to own a dog. It's also a very good city for eating out with a dog. Dorsey put together a guide to the best dog-friendly patios to take your pup as part of our 'Dog Days of Summer' collaboration with our features team. Regular contributor Carolynn Carreño explored the evolution toward human-grade dog food over the last 15 years and provides a recipe for Rufus hash, a raw dog food blend she used to make for her late dog, Rufus. It's made with ground beef, turkey or chicken, organ meat, bone meal, steamed broccoli and steamed sweet potato. Novelist Michelle Huneven (see above) also shares her recipe for the homemade hash she feeds her rescue dog, Tatty Jane. Like Carreño, she uses ground meat and broccoli (or spinach) but also includes peas, brown or white rice, fish oil or sardines, finely ground baked eggshells for bone health and, for the antioxidants, frozen-fresh cranberries. Chef Wes Avila's father, Jose Luis Avila, is a legal resident of the U.S. But he felt so fearful of being caught up in the ICE raids happening all over California that after more than 50 years in this country he recently moved to Mexico. Avila told Food reporter Stephanie Breijo that when he's missing his father he makes a version of the Durango-style caldillo, or stew, that his father used to cook. 'It connects me to him,' said Avila, who leads the kitchens at MXO and Ka'teen. 'I talk to him every other day. We have a very close relationship.' And when he's missing his mother, who died in 1995, he makes beef taquitos, which he thinks was her favorite dish — or at least, he says, 'our favorite dish for her to make when my brother, my sister and I were kids.' He shared recipes for both dishes. And Dee-Ann Durbin reports on Coca-Cola's decision to 'add a cane-sugar version of its trademark cola to its U.S. lineup this fall, confirming a recent announcement by President Trump. ... Coke currently sells Mexican Coke, which is made with cane sugar, in the U.S.'


USA Today
a day ago
- USA Today
'Happy Gilmore 2' star Haley Joel Osment makes first red carpet appearance since arrest
"Happy Gilmore 2" star Haley Joel Osment made a rare red carpet appearance months after his April arrest made headlines. The former child star, now 37, walked the film's red carpet Monday, July 21, at Lincoln Center in New York City. He wore a floral shirt, and white pants for the affair, pairing the look with a matching jacket and slip-on suede loafers. "The Sixth Sense" star appears in "Happy Gilmore 2" (released Friday, July 25 on Netflix) — the brainchild of comedian Adam Sandler — as new character Billy Jenkins in the sequel to the beloved 1996 golf comedy. Osment's appearance at the premiere marked his first major public outing since he was arrested this spring and charged with disorderly conduct for public alcohol intoxication and possession of cocaine at Mammoth Mountain Ski Area resort in Mammoth Lakes, California. 'Happy Gilmore 2': The wildest celebrity cameos, from Travis Kelce to Ken Jennings Earlier this year, Osment apologized for his use of a slur in a statement shared with People and the New York Post April 18 after his arrest footage surfaced. The footage, shared by Page Six, shows Osment calling an officer a "Nazi" and hurling an antisemitic slur about Jewish people. "You'll wish you treated me nicer," Osment said to the officer. As he was escorted into the jail in handcuffs by two officers, the actor said, "Good luck." Osment told the outlets that "I'm absolutely horrified by my behavior. Had I known I used this disgraceful language in the throes of a blackout, I would have spoken up sooner." He added that "the past few months of loss and displacement have broken me down to a very low emotional place." Osment continued: "But that's no excuse for using this disgusting word. From the bottom of my heart, I apologize to absolutely everyone that this hurts. What came out of my mouth was nonsensical garbage - I've let the Jewish community down and it devastates me. I don't ask for anyone's forgiveness, but I promise to atone for my terrible mistake." Contributing: Saman Shafiq


USA Today
2 days ago
- USA Today
Billy Joel doc Part 2 revelations: Alcoholism, marriages and how music saved his life
The first part of Billy Joel's documentary ends with the musical titan noting, "I realize life doesn't always have a happy ending.' The second half of the engrossing 'Billy Joel: And So It Goes' wraps with a similar sentiment of realism sprinkled with optimism. 'I'm not finished … I'm still looking. I'm still searching,' Joel, 76, says with watery eyes as he sits in front of a piano in his home. 'I may not ever figure it all out. But I'm tryin'.' The 2 ½-hour continuation of Joel's life story premieres at 8 p.m. (ET/PT) July 25 on HBO Max (Part One was released July 18) and picks up in 1982, after Joel broke his wrist in a motorcycle accident that threatened his career. Directors Susan Lacy and Jessica Levin crafted a comprehensive dive into his later history, leading to his record-setting residency at Madison Square Garden. It is likely not a coincidence that this final chapter – the two parts of the film total five hours and include 110 Joel songs – arrives exactly a year after Joel played his last show of the decade-long run at the hallowed New York venue. The documentary was completed prior to Joel's recent diagnosis of normal pressure hydrocephalus, but there are candid assessments of other struggles he's endured, including depression, bankruptcy and alcoholism. Much like Part One includes input from Joel's first wife, Elizabeth Weber, an integral engine of his early career, this installment offers sympathetic and sometimes emotional commentary from ex-wives Christie Brinkley and Katie Lee, along with daughter Alexa and current wife Alexis Roderick,. Other music luminaries, including Bruce Springsteen, Paul McCartney, Sting, Garth Brooks, Jackson Browne and Nas also pop in to expound on what has made Joel one of the preeminent musicians of the past 50 years. Here are some highlights from the film. More: Billy Joel's documentary reveals suicide attempts, influence of first wife on his career Billy Joel, his father and his heritage: 'I will always be a Jew' Joel fans know that his profound ballad 'Vienna' was written for his father, Howard, who left when Joel was a child. Longtime friend Howard Stern shares, 'You see the glimpse of the trauma Billy had in his life in his songs … I think his drive is wanting to know his father through music.' Joel did find his dad – in Vienna, naturally – when he was a young man playing clubs in Europe. The pair had a standoffish relationship that eroded Joel's soul as he repeatedly tried to pierce the emotional armor between them until Howard's death in 2011. Joel also shares the intense backstory of his family history in Germany – his father grew up under Hitler's reign – and explains why he wore a yellow Jewish star on his suit during a 2017 concert following a white supremacist rally in Charlottesville, Virginia. 'I've never been political onstage … but I was angry. When (President) Trump comes out and says there are 'very fine people on both sides' … the Nazis are not good people, period.' Joel is resolute as he looks into the camera and says, 'No matter what, I will always be a Jew.' More: Billy Joel turns 75: His 75 best songs, definitively ranked A vacation led to a love affair with Christie Brinkley From their first public photos together in 1983, people pegged Joel and Brinkley as an odd couple – the Everyman New Yorker with the radiant supermodel. Their meeting in St. Barts, where Joel escaped following his exhausting tour behind 'The Nylon Curtain,' was a lesson in choosing someone for their heart, not their hairline. 'There was something sweet and old-fashioned about him,' the still-luminous Brinkley says in current day. Joel was equally smitten. 'She was a muse. It was like being a teenager again.' Their union produced not only daughter Alexa, now 39, but Joel's wildly successful 'An Innocent Man' album that includes the Brinkley-inspired 'Uptown Girl.' Personal videos of the pair on Joel's boat, carrying a turkey at Thanksgiving dinner, singing Joel's songs together in the car and doting on Alexa spotlight a couple enthralled with life. It was Brinkley who brought to Joel's attention that his manager, Frank Weber (his former brother-in-law) was spending his fortune indiscriminately, a fact that Joel initially refused to believe. 'He trusted (Frank) more than he trusted me, which hurt me,' Brinkley says through tears. Joel's moves to rebuild his career, including the 'Storm Front' and 'River of Dreams' albums and subsequent tours, led to severe drinking. That, coupled with his work consumption, escalated into an untenable situation for Brinkley. 'I don't think he knew how he could hurt people,' she says. The pair divorced in 1994 after nearly 10 years of marriage. Joel's struggles with addiction and homebody tendencies also prompted his split with Food Network chef Katie Lee more than 20 years later. Joel and current wife Alexis married in 2015 and have two young daughters, Della Rose and Remy Anne. 'I still believe in love,' he says of his current home life. How Hurricane Sandy led to Billy Joel's MSG residency After Hurricane Sandy decimated parts of Long Island in 2012, Joel, a native entrenched in his hometown, took the stage for the first time in years as part of the '121212' relief concert at Madison Square Garden and realized, 'there's still gas in the tank.' His booking agent suggested a regular return to performing with a monthly stint at the venue. Joel figured he and his longtime band would play six shows and ticket demand would cease. Instead, he performed 100 sellouts over 10 years. As footage plays of Joel strapping on his harmonica – the telltale signal that 'Piano Man' is looming – during an MSG show, the film cuts to video of him in 1973 at his signing day at Columbia Records, singing what became his signature song. His voice is higher, his hair shaggier and his future uncertain. But Joel came to a realization through the next 50-plus years: 'Music saved my life.'