While most hip-hoppers’ touring contracts include the artists’ preferred brand of high-end liquor, rapper Moshe Reuven’s list calls for rabbi-sanctioned dairy products.
“And kosher nutritious meals,” the South Florida born-and-bred Hasidic rapper told The Post in an interview last week.
The detail is one of many unexpected distinctions between the bearded frum rhymer and the overwhelming majority of his industry counterparts.
While much of the current hip-hop industry revels in the secular pursuit of fame and its trappings, the devout Jew’s music focuses on getting right with God.
But despite his jarring deviation from mainstream norms, Reuven’s brand of sonic piety has gradually expanded his popularity well beyond the shul and into the streets.
He has now amassed 1.7 Instagram followers, earned Billboard chart spots and shared a recording studio with Julian Marley, the son of reggae icon Bob Marley.
“I think there are people out there who want something more out of music than what they get a lot of the time,” Reuven said. “They want more meaning. I just thank God that people from all backgrounds have gravitated to my music.”
Unlike most Hasidic Jews, Reuven was not raised in an especially religious home. As a teen, he would indulge in much of the same mischief as his irreligious peers, including the occasional drink or two at a party.
During one of these episodes, Reuven said someone spiked his drink with some sort of potent intoxicant which rendered him unconscious.
He said he interpreted this “near-death’ experience as an entreaty from God to live a more righteous existence before it was too late.
“The realization was that I wasn’t living the right way,” he said. “I didn’t want to leave the world like that. I wanted a purposeful, meaningful life from that point, to take care of things properly.”
But it still took time for that pilot light to burst into flame. Reuven said a visit to a Chabad, or Hasidic learning center, while he was attending Central Florida University intensified his need for religious nourishment.
He soon stabbed out the blunts permanently, began observing the Jewish sabbath and kept a strict kosher diet.
As his beard lengthened, so did the parental inquiries.
“I was sort of sacrificing a lot of the fun of being a college student. There were some questions at first,” he said of his parents. “But now they’re fully supportive.”
Reuven immersed himself in Judaica, shedding his name Marc for something less Anglo and regularly donning the dark hats and coats of Crown Heights couture.
But while he severed ties with much of his past, Reuven retained his love of hip-hop music.
Long a devotee of less materially minded rappers such as Talib Kweli and The Roots, Reuven would often jot down rhymes during class and dream of one day wielding a microphone himself.
Inspired by the likes of prior Jewish performers including rapper Matisyahu, he began to record his songs. The tunes would eventually catch the ear of the Create Music label, which signed him to a deal.
While Reuven feared that his appearance and profile would prove a hindrance, the opposite has proven true. His fanbase now spans the demographic spectrum, with his songs of redemption and hope striking a cross-cultural chord.
“I get people saying to me that they appreciate me being more vulnerable than what is the norm,” he said.
Rather than tiptoe around his faith, Reuven has unapologetically flown the flag of Jewish pride — a stridency, he said, that he refuses to surrender.
Still, with burgeoning fame comes temptation. Reuven quoted a Torah verse that warns of thinking one has permanently conquered the allure of sin.
As his tour dates multiply and crowds fatten, the rapper said he prioritizes remaining humble.
“You have to keep yourself in check,” he said. “It’s something no one is immune to. I just have a goal to make this world a better place, to make it a more positive place with my music. To make it a more godlier place.”