Virtuoso Jazz Guitarist Rotem Sivan to Release New Album, Heart Thieves, on Aug. 26

Produced by Ben Wendel (Kneebody), this strikingly beautiful project celebrates Sivan’s infant twins, Gigi and Eden — and reflects on Eden’s continuing fight against brain cancer.

 

In January, the Israeli-born and Brooklyn-based guitarist Rotem Sivan spent his birthday at NYU Langone hospital, in Manhattan’s Gramercy Park neighborhood. It was a day, and a night, he’ll never forget, no matter how much he might want to.

 

As his wife, Lore, watched over their six-month-old daughter, Gigi, at the couple’s apartment, Rotem sat up looking after Gigi’s twin brother, Eden, in the pediatric unit. For months Eden had suffered through escalating and unexplainable respiratory illness, and now things only seemed to be getting worse.

 

A bit after midnight, after seeing his child’s breathing drop to frightening levels of instability, a courageous nurse disregarded a doctor’s orders and put Eden on oxygen, then implored the doctor to examine him again. Immediately, any notion of wait-and-see was gone. Eden was admitted to the ICU, where doctors rapidly moved in and out of his room, with steely looks of urgency that would terrify any parent.

 

A breathing tube was inserted and a CT scan was done. An MRI that wasn’t previously available for various reasons was imminent. “All of a sudden it was a different game,” says Rotem. He called his wife, who was quick to answer as Gigi had woken up crying — a rare occurrence for a child who typically slept soundly for 11-hour stretches. With incredible urgency, a close friend took a taxi over to the apartment to look after Gigi, and Lore quickly got to the hospital. Once Eden went in for his MRI, his parents had a moment to reflect on the unspeakable trauma they were now faced with and walked down the street to the Gemini Restaurant, sat down in a booth and wept for the next hour and a half. These days, that comfort-food haven where they continue to eat now carries a name, “We call it the crying diner,” Rotem says.

 

Upon returning to the hospital after the MRI was completed, the sun was just about to come up, and the oncology team entered Eden’s room and asked Rotem and Lore to sit down. The words that followed seemed to tumble out in slow, dreamlike motion: “What we see is that Eden has a tumor in his brain and we need to operate right now. We’ve already called the doctors and they’re on their way.” Eden’s parents were given some time alone with their son before the immeasurably risky surgery would begin. Then he was put under.

 

What the surgeons found and removed was a golf ball-sized malignant tumor, that had been pushing against Eden’s brainstem and wreaking havoc on his core body functions. The infant was diagnosed with ATRT, a rare and aggressive tumor, and remains at NYU Langone, where he is currently undergoing chemotherapy.

 

Rotem and Lore essentially live there too, taking turns sleeping on a mattress next to their son. Their lives are now spent researching and considering new treatment options while navigating the vagaries of the insurance industry. There have been devastating setbacks since the surgery, including a life-threatening seizure, and sights that no parent should ever have to take in — such as Eden during and after his surgery, when he “looked like a power strip,” as Rotem recalls, with all manner of cords and cables extending out from his tiny body. Somehow, Rotem and Lore are hanging on.

 

“I try to do a few things that make me happy every day,” says Rotem. He walks with his son through the hallways outside his hospital room. He plays keyboard and guitar while Lore sings for him. He tries to practice a bit at night while Eden sleeps. But mostly, he says, “I try to just be with him.”

 

*****

 

Rotem’s gorgeous new album, Heart Thieves, was written over two creatively exhilarating days, after the twins were born but before Eden’s diagnosis. In the midst of the ongoing family hardship, it stands as a profoundly moving love letter from a new father to the children he adores. Its title comes from a whimsical nickname — little thieves — that Rotem fell into with his babies, and its 10 tracks tell their story — from the joys of their laughter and smiles, to the pain and anxiety that surrounded Lore’s pregnancy that had her on bed rest for four months leading up to the twins’ birth.

 

In confluence with welcoming their beautiful children into their lives, Heart Thieves also marks a stellar trio jazz record showcasing Rotem at the peak of his playing. The album was produced by saxophonist Ben Wendel, himself a singular talent renowned for his work as a cofounder of Kneebody. Heart Thieves features two twentysomething players who will no doubt help define the jazz scene for decades to come: bassist Hamish Smith and drummer Miguel Russell. Heart Thieves borders on a kind of clairvoyance; underneath Rotem’s often heartrending melodies, Smith and Russell are interactive, nimble, powerful, thoughtful and constantly in motion. Heart Thieves is a work of quiet intensity that, at choice moments, raises up to roar. Along the way, the core trio is elevated by guest spots from Wendel, on two tracks, and saxophonist Oded Tzur, on one.

 

The deep narratives and accompanying arrangements comes to life with superb musicianship. The beautifully streamlined melody of “The Path” reflects on Lore being bedridden during her pregnancy. “Gigi” begins with the precious recorded sound of the twins’ giggles. Rotem recalls that it was easier to get Gigi to laugh, since at that point Eden was already experiencing breathing troubles. What’s more, this bittersweet meditation, highlighted by Tzur’s clarion tone, summons up Rotem’s memories of almost losing his daughter: Gigi wasn’t breathing when she was born, and after some fraught medical intervention, the doctors laid her on her mother’s chest. “They put her on Lore and it was like magic,” the guitarist remembers. “Gigi became alive and flushed with color. The doctor noticed and said, ‘She might just need Mama.’”

 

“In Hopes” is a piece with an ever-evolving meaning. It was written as Rotem was settling into fatherhood, thrilled at the prospect of creating his “own little world” with his loving family. Now it serves as a rallying cry for Eden’s fight. Two other compositions relish the comforts of family: “Lullabye” and “Will They Fly.” With its soulful, laidback groove, the latter expresses Rotem’s “wish that our two babies will fly and feel great, be healthy and happy. I believe they will,” he says.

 

A pair of covers also contains great personal significance, while underscoring Rotem’s razor-sharp abilities as an arranger. Soundgarden’s “Black Hole Sun,” with its intimations of light pushing out of darkness, can be heard as an analogue for Eden’s struggle. “In the Mood” is a song Rotem’s grandmother played for him off a cassette; here, the guitarist’s softly dramatic and thoroughly modern reimagining quickly strips that big-band staple of all its hokey school-jazz-band associations.

 

Today, as Rotem and Lore live with Eden in the hospital, they do their best to stay in the present moment, to savor his smiles and to remain hopeful. “I feel like, as humans, our whole system is based on believing in the idea of a better tomorrow,” Rotem says, “of believing in the possibility of happiness.” Rotem has found a silver lining in the tremendous outpouring of support he’s received from family and friends. An all-star benefit concert in Israel raised much-needed funds, as Rotem is unable to gig; his brother, an acclaimed Israeli painter and sculptor, sold work to help. In fact, the guitarist has never felt closer to his wife and to his family, who’ve regularly flown in and out of the States to offer strength and support. “This has brought us all as close as close can be,” he says.

 

And he has music to guide him through this impossibly difficult time. Working on and thinking about Heart Thieves, Rotem says, “is an island of peace. It’s an island of sanity, and of no disease and no hospital beeps. … It’s serene.”