Tuna - Between the city and the orchard

Tuna is back with a moving song that manages to capture the feelings of instability and uncertainty that we've all felt in one way or another in the past six months. Tuna being Tuna, he also offers much-needed comfort during this challenging time, which in many ways feels more difficult than the chaotic weeks right after October 7th. I posted a while back Tuna's mega-hit 'This Too Shall Pass' and recently discovered that it's one of the songs on a playlist created by Carmel Gat's friends, of songs that she loved and would share with them. Carmel, an occupational therapist, was taken hostage on October 7th from her parents' house in Kibbutz Be'eri and had recently returned to Israel after a few months in India. It was reported from hostages released in November that Carmel was held captive together with children and would practice yoga with them. I can only hope that in the long months that have passed she has been able to somehow take care of herself, mentally and physically. Like DJ JuVi says at the end of the song, the East is wilder than ever but we're pushing through, continuing with all our strength because there is really no other choice.

The IDF entered Gaza, so I went to my dad's for a while

On the background of chakalaka, paka paka, Mada, Zaka

A contract is over, which is a sign that we'll end the saga

And I don't have a roof, which is a sign that I probably have no ground

And I don't have any motivation, and I'm also not in the mood

As if it wasn't tense enough, we got into another argument

So there is no one place right now, there is no safe place

Feeling disappointed by the world, it feels like there is no supervision

Feeling disappointed by the world, I rated the hospitality

What was so urgent for them to bite the apple?

Who likes changes anyway? Not me

Winter is coming, I'm wandering, a gypsy

A homeless superstar, a vegetarian carnivore

From home to the parents and from there to an Airbnb

Between the city and the orchard, on roads under fire

Where will the wind blow? It's still impossible to guess

The future is still unclear so this rap is dedicated

To anyone like me who is searching

To anyone who needs a new route

And is stuck in Beirut because of the Waze disruptions 

All that's left is to embrace

What's been left behind

Between the city and the orchard

I'm looking for a place again

A place I am happy to return to

And just as I'm relaxed on the mic

Between us, I'm still trying really hard

It hurt too much to see, a home here is just walls

Huge shows, there was a place to escape to

Only when everything stopped did I process what I'd been through

Slowly I became someone I didn't know

I disappeared into myself so it wouldn't hurt you
So it wouldn't hurt me, yes, that's very romantic

My heart is broken but the time has come for me to choose me

The house is empty now like Salame is empty of the Barby

Home, home, home, I have a home in my heart

I didn't have it, I didn't know it was possible, it's natural

I didn't know I deserved a place even without it

That I would have to save everyone around me

What is home, home, home? Not walls, not pots

Not familiar smells, not the northern or the southern landscape

It's just where it feels good to be me

And fences don't suddenly break down just like that

And I won't be one nor will I find one

If I won't be my own home

All that's left is to embrace

What's been left behind

Between the city and the orchard

I'm looking for a place again

A place I am happy to return to

JuVi here,

The East is wilder than ever

We're continuing with all our strength

Never stopping

Still on the horse

Niro, Yakir, you did it again

A new Tuna album is on the way...

tuna.lnk.to/Pardes

Assaf Amdursky - Too many flowers

I've been thinking of this song ever since it was released in January, and I've been thinking of it in the past few weeks. I know it was written during a time when many soldiers were killed while protecting the country, but when I hear the sadness in Assaf Amdursky's voice I think of all the innocent lives lost in Gaza. Too many flowers, too many open wounds. 

I thought about it again today when I heard the tragic news that the hostage Elad Katzir from Kibbutz Nir Oz was murdered in captivity. His father Rami was murdered on October 7th and his mother Hanna was also kidnapped and was released in poor condition in late November, and is still being treated at a hospital. To think that after all she has been through she has now lost her son, her star, is too much to bear.

The news breaks my heart

Instead of disconnecting, I want to get closer

To give a hug and to receive what's heavy for you

Put the burden on me, brother

I came here just for you

We will hold our pain together

I just want to cry

I just want to cry

Every day, all day, all night

I just want to cry

To release the tears

Breaking every day

Until yesterday it felt wrong to me

To fall apart first and be weak in front of

A mother who lost her star

It is no longer possible to fill the void

Too many flowers

Too many open wounds

I just want to cry

I just want to cry

Every day, all day, all night

I just want to cry

To release the tears

Breaking every day

I just want to dance

I just want to dance with you

Every day, all night

I just want to dance

To connect the ends

Every day I promise again

Pictures break my heart

Instead of backing away

I want to get closer

Lola Marsh - Until you'll come back, until you return

I remember finding out through a moving video posted by Lola Marsh that they are Noa Argamani's favorite band and her favorite song is "She's a rainbow". This was on Noa's 26th birthday on October 12th, more than three months ago, and she is still held captive by Hamas with no hostage deal in sight. After several delays, the academic year started earlier this month, including at Ben-Gurion University, where Noa is a third-year engineering student. I can't even begin to imagine what her family is going through and what it is like for her friends to start the academic year without her, without knowing how she is, especially after hearing about the terrifying conditions in captivity from the hostages who came back.

A few days ago I came across this letter posted by The Free Press, written by Merav Svirsky before the heartbreaking news of her brother's death:

My name is Merav Svirsky. I'm an Israeli yoga teacher and artist. I was born and raised in Kibbutz Be'eri. On October 7 my life changed forever. Both of my parents, Orit and Rafi, were brutally murdered by the Hamas terrorists. My brother Itai (38) was kidnapped from my mother's home, and he's been held hostage in Gaza ever since. My two other brothers survived the attack, and so did my 97-year-old grandmother. Her Philippine caregiver, Grace, was murdered trying to protect her. My husband is also from Be'eri, and most of his family survived. His beloved aunt, who was a neighbor of my mother, was murdered too. Both of our families, those who survived, are now refugees in our own country. Our home was destroyed, our lives shattered.

It's inconceivable that Itai is still in Gaza. One hundred days. Writing this number makes me shiver. In the past three months, the people of Israel have been demonstrating an amazing spirit of volunteering - contributing to the war effort, supporting the refugees, helping each other. But now, people are gradually getting back to their "normal life". My greatest fear is this return to "normal life"- for our family, and for the families of the other 135 hostages, life has frozen and will not resume until our beloved ones return home alive. We're not post-traumatic, because we're in the middle of an ongoing trauma. We're under a continuous terror attack, every minute of every day.

October 7 has taught me that I cannot trust anyone and anything. I lost trust in my country, in my government, in my army. The only way to restore (some of) the lost trust is to bring them home now.

In the past three months, the Israeli leadership has been talking about achieving victory against Hamas. There's no such thing. We lost this war. My family lost this war on October 7. But although we cannot win the war, we can feel hope again. Hope should be the goal, not victory. And that hope can only be achieved by returning the hostages home. Now.

I have two sons, Eilam (7) and Keinan (4.5). They know so many people who are dead. Dozens. A few weeks ago they had a discussion between them about Itai, their beloved uncle. Eilam was arguing that he was not going to come back "because everyone else who had disappeared ended up being dead." For the future of my children - for their ability to hope - Itai must return home. Nothing is more important than that, for the future of my children, for the future of my family, and for the future of my country.

If you're still there, make a wish

And I will ask too

And if you hear my voice in a dream

I won't give up on you

And the days go by

And the nights are hard

My heart is bleeding and my soul is already broken

Until you'll come back

I won't let go, I won't rest

And until you return

I'll search for you in spirit

Writing more letters

Maybe there will be ahead

Better days

We sang your favorite song

We went out in the morning to see the sunrise

To feel a bit more alive

Your smell is still in bed

I feel you between the sheets

My heart is already becoming gray

They took away my hero

They're asking again where is dad and I have no answer

Until you'll come back

I won't let go, I won't rest

And until you return

I'll search for you in spirit

Writing more letters

Maybe there will be ahead

Better days

We sang your favorite song

And again in the dream you dance and disappear

And again I'm hiding my tears from everyone

Screaming, crying, making your voice heard for the world

I need you

Until you'll come back

I won't let go, I won't rest

And until you return

I'll search for you in spirit

Writing more letters

Maybe there will be ahead

Better days

We sang your favorite song

lolamarsh.lnk.to/Adshetahzor 

Idan Amedi - Some of the time

It's been a tough day. We woke up to the news that four IDF soldiers were killed fighting in Gaza. I quickly checked to make sure there was no one I knew. I checked again at noon when five more names of fallen soldiers were released, all reservists who had stopped their lives to fight for us. Later in the evening I heard their stories and saw footage from a few of the funerals that took place today, parents mourning their 19-year-old son, a young woman mourning her partner: "We were supposed to create a family together, now I have joined the family of the bereaved". 

One glimmer of light during this heavy day is the recent news that Idan Amedi, who was seriously injured in an explosion in Gaza, has regained consciousness, with his condition now defined as moderate. I saw Idan in concert at the end of September, a spontaneous decision I made with a friend since we wanted to enjoy an open-air concert before the winter, a decision we're both so grateful for. I wasn't sure how it would be since I was only familiar with a few of his songs, but I was won over by his immense talent and his natural ability to bring the crowd together, to make us all feel like a united group. I love how this video captures Idan's warmth and dedication, always giving 110% percent, and always performing with all his heart. 

Some of the time I had concerns about what

I wanted to say and didn't, maybe I never will

In a small window in front of me, she's staring at the streetlights

How during the day they are lonely and how at night they come back to life

And sometimes it also happens to me at nights

To think about all that I wanted to be

And sometimes it's a kind of familiar smile

That helps me to make peace with what is now over

Sometimes when she's just watching the girls

It's so hard for me to hold in the tears

All those in shades of purple and green

Remind me that the good is not far anymore

It is not far anymore...

Some of the time I had clear decisions

That I will begin to be happy, to let go of all that is no more

In a small window in front of me, she's staring at the old city

That I loved to love, and she loved me back

And sometimes it still happens to me at nights

To think about all that I wanted to be

And sometimes it's a kind of familiar smile

That helps me to make peace with what is now over

Sometimes when she's just watching the girls

It's so hard for me to hold in the tears

All those in shades of purple and green

Remind me that the good is not far anymore

It is not far anymore...

Translation from LyricsTranslate

Zehu Ze and Eviatar Banai - Night as the Day Does Shine

Zehu Ze was one of the first shows back on during the war, I remember how the first episodes back on sensitively dealt with the situation, hosting evacuated children from the Gaza envelope, with skits that were less satirical than usual, and of course, the songs. The songs have become the heart of the show, with touching musical interpretations that always feel like the perfect choice. The first episode back ended with a moving version of 'Darkenu', with the lyrics, "It's not easy, our path is not easy/and your eyes sometimes are so sad/More blossoming fields are before us/More high mountains with cool summits". Since then the skits have become much more satirical, though reality always seems to be giving a good fight, and the song choices have become a soundtrack to this heartbreaking war. Earlier this week Eviatar Banai joined the group for "Night as the Day Does Shine", so fitting for Hanukka and a few minutes of comfort during these cold dark days.

Again I'm fighting 

A magnet pulls down

It's in the small points

In the words of encouragement

This time I'm not alone

What a battle, my God, what a battle

Between the pit and the water

At least there is a battle here

At least there is water

Once there was just a pit

Night as the day does shine...

I boil the water

Memories float up

Threatening to burn everything

There are drawers that I still don't open

Until there will be light in me

It's in the small points

In the words of encouragement

Tying up the shoes

Buttoning up the white shirt

Offering you a glass of water

Night as the day does shine...

Along the stream that floats in me

Among the trees stands my house

Koolulam | Like a prayer - Madonna | Bring Them Home, NOW

After a nerve-racking few days since the hostage deal was first announced, we finally saw the first group of 13 Israelis released. 10 Thai nationals and 1 national from the Philippines were also released yesterday in a separate deal. We were so anxious about the deal and whether it would go through as planned, I can't even begin to imagine what it is like for the families of the hostages, many of whom don't know yet if their loved ones will be included in the groups being released in the next few days. When I saw the images of the released hostages together with my family we were overjoyed with emotion, though I have to admit that we were hoping to see little Abigail Mor Edan, whose parents were murdered by Hamas militants and just turned 4 yesterday, as well as Shiri Bibas and her two sons, Ariel, 4 years old, and little Kfir, just 10 months old. There are 40 hostages under the age of 18 and 4 were released yesterday. It is not guaranteed that the rest are among the remaining 37 to be released since not all are held by Hamas, the Palestinian Islamic Jihad terror group is said to be holding hostages as well.

Overall 50 women and children will be released, and while we are overjoyed to see Israelis finally back home, our thoughts are with the hundreds who will not be released yet. Yesterday Keren Munder was released with her 9-year-old son Ohad and her mother Ruth Munder, but her father Abraham Munder, 78, was left behind in Gaza, hopefully a temporary situation. I am looking at the faces and names of the hostages, there are so many who have entered my heart after hearing their stories from their loved ones, among them: Noa Armagani, 26, Yarden Bibas, 34, Amiram Cooper, 84, Carmel Gat, 39, Romi Gonen, 23,  Yotam Haim, 28, Hersh Goldberg Polin, 23, Guy Illouz, 26, Ofer Kalderon, 53, Oded Lifshitz, 83, Alon Ohel, 22, Chaim Peri, 79, and Mia Schem, 21. No one must be left behind.

I was moved to tears by Koolulam's version of Madonna's Like a Prayer, with the participation of the families of the hostages together with thousands of people from more than 100 locations around the world, in a moving show of support. As Yoni Asher, who was reunited yesterday with his wife Doron and his two children, Raz, 4, and Aviv, 2, said: "I am happy that I got my family back... but I don't celebrate. I won't celebrate until the last of the hostages returns."

Sheygets - New York - Rafah // Intercom

You said that after the rains

It would be better, it would be more pleasant

You said that after the holidays

We'll return to routine, we'll return like adults

We've passed the rains and Sukkot

And everything remains the same and I'm the same idiot

You lied because it's now after Sukkot

And if you were right, then why do I feel like crying?

This world stinks from New York to Rafah

Wherever you go, you'll always find an enemy

These are homeland birth pangs, and I want to leave

Whether black or white, we'll all die racists

You told me that I'm the best and that I have no competitors

And that we are both in love

You told me that everything is great

And that this is a beautiful time, but it's a time in life

So how come yesterday you didn't pay attention to me

And you didn't care what was happening to me?

And how come? Sometimes you understand

And sometimes you're a bitch, a bit of an unclear girl

Oy! And you make this world stink so much

From New York to Rafah

Wherever you go, you'll always find an enemy

These are homeland birth pangs, and I want to leave

Whether black or white, we'll all die racists

This world stinks from New York to Rafah

Wherever you go, you'll always find an enemy

These are homeland birth pangs... I want to leave

Whether black or white, we'll all die racists

The only music I've been able to listen to since October 7th is the music on Can 88, sensitively curated for a traumatized country. The Israeli songs they're playing these days are usually soothing songs from a distant past, like the beautiful 'Ein Gedi' which I heard while taking the underground light rail home from work, the only public place where I allow myself to use my headphones. Through Can 88's Facebook page I came across Yuval Mendelson's performance of 'New York - Rafah', which he wrote 22 years ago and is sadly still so relevant today. Maybe not as soothing as Yehudit Ravitz, but it was exactly what I needed to hear, for so many reasons.

I checked out Mendelson's page and came across a heartwarming performance of 'Intercom' (this time from 19 years ago), which he performed for displaced residents from the North, evacuated due to the tense situation by the northern border. Ever since the war began, Israeli musicians have been performing for injured massacre survivors, for displaced residents, and for soldiers about to risk their lives. This Friday is Bandcamp Friday and there's been an initiative to give back to Israeli musicians who have been volunteering day after day while facing economic insecurity. If you're into EDM please check out the #BringThemBack compilations, all proceeds will be donated to aid survivors of the Supernova massacre, from mental health care to support in bringing the hostages back home.

Tomorrow will be better ♥  

It's raining outside and it's a sad winter for me

A big hat just so they won't see it's me

Young girls who haven't finished high school yet

And there are a hundred thousand people here but I will always be the last

I'd offer you a ride but I don't have a driver's license

And maybe tomorrow will be better you'll see

Tomorrow will be better for me

And if you hear my song then know that it's me

Tomorrow will be okay, you'll see

Tomorrow will be okay for me

And if you're passing by my street, call me on the intercom

And then I'll get up and open the door for you.

A cute blonde is sitting at the bar and pinching her nose

One pinch from her and soon I'm out the door

I thought maybe I'll approach her and we'll start to talk

I'll order a drink for her but until I'll have the courage

The blonde and I will wait

I'd invite her to listen to records

But I live with my parents

So maybe tomorrow will be better you'll see

Tomorrow will be better for me

And if you hear my song then know that it's me

Tomorrow will be okay, you'll see

Tomorrow will be okay for me

And if you're passing by my street, call me on the intercom

And then I'll get up and open the door for you.