Itzik Yona - Mountain Song

I came across this magical gem while browsing through local gig listings and I'm so happy to have discovered it. It goes perfectly with the wonderful weather we've been having lately, reminding us to fully appreciate the present moment. It's so calming and peaceful and captures the spiritual journey so many Israelis embark on in India and the Far East. With so many Israelis travelling there, it's a bit of a surprise that there isn't more influence in local music, but then again, so many travel to clear their heads and come back ready to face the next part of their lives, leaving the adopted Eastern influence behind. I've found that with spiritual music, you have to be in the right mindset to really enjoy it, but when you are, it's so rewarding. Here's a beautiful video of Yona on the sitar playing Indian music with other Israeli musicians.

Gazing around the hills
Deciding to stay a little longer
But the fire already wants to go to sleep
If we won't freeze to death we'll live and continue from there

Impressions from yesterday
Like a cloud now we're going down
And the tear is a tear of laughter
The same principle argument you were arguing

People say hello
A shining street and the traffic flows around
Everything passes by nothing stops
And Anata explains to me that the trip is over

Till then the sun will come back again
Till then the sun will come back again
Till then the sun will come back again

The Backyard - Voicemail

Yesterday marked 18 years since the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin, by the Hebrew date. To say the truth, it's a bit weird marking the Hebrew day, the date that will forever be remembered is November 4th. It's also weird to realize that the students commemorating him in school ceremonies were all born after his death, and some of them are children to parents who were "Noar HaNerot", the youth who mourned not just the death of their leader but also a certain death of their innocence. It's amazing how they're just about a decade older than me, and at my age, it's not supposed to be such a big difference, but I feel so distant from them, and I think it has a lot to do with the assassination and the rift it created in the already fragile society. I don't have any significant memory from that day (I was very young and living abroad), but I do remember how, in high school, my teacher showed us a very difficult video clip showing the right-wing extremist incitement before the murder as a result of the Oslo accords and the bombings it brought with it. We were all shocked by the verbal violence, including those of us who disagreed with Rabin's views. The clip wasn't a constructed part of the lesson plan, and I wonder how many teenagers are exposed to those images today, how many are encouraged to have a thought provoking discussion and learn about the context of the event, not just memorize Rabin's famous quote "violence erodes the basis of democracy".

The Backyard, or in Hebrew HaChatzer HaAchorit, is an intriguing project formed by Tomer Yosef and Itamar Zieigler from Balkan Beat Box together with Gedi Ronen from Devek and 1:1 and the legendary lyricist Yankale Rotblit. Rotblit has an impressive repertoire of albums which feature his candid and poetic lyrics: 1978's  "How I Released Jerusalem", written 11 years after he fought in the six day war in which he lost a leg, 1989's "Letters from the Fourth House" (Side A and B here), 2004's "The Country of the Jews" and 2011's "Alol Junction". The truth is, I hadn't heard of these controversial albums before reading about them on Kutner's post about this group (though now I'm very curious), and Rotblit is best known for writing some of Israel's most loved songs. Among them are, "It's So Good That You Came Home", "I See Her On the Way to the Gimnasia", "Saturdays and Holidays", "Wooden Horse", "Seeing far seeing clear", "Let Us Grow Up in Peace" and "Our Way" (Darkenu). He also wrote "A Song for Peace", first performed by the Nachal Army Group in 1969 and later on November 4th, 1995, in the peace rally right before Rabin's assassination. I don't think anyone will ever forget the image of the bloodstained lyric sheet.

I first heard this song sometime last month, and though I really liked the melody, I (ignorantly) dismissed it as a mainstream radio song made for the holidays. But then I heard it again yesterday when I saw that it had entered Galgaltz's daytime playlist. Probably because of the day's circumstances, I suddenly realized what the song was about, or at least what I think it could be about, making it so much more complex, relevant, and heartbreaking.

It hasn't arrived by now
It won't arrive now
Without "do us a favor"
Understand the situation
It's a matter of air time
A matter of price tag
Now it's on sale

Again you came out as an idiot
You bought an illusion
It can't be
Yet it was
You felt upgraded
You dressed in holiday night
So what's the problem?
Suddenly the magic expired
And the rod to the fish
Said you're mine

What was yours
And won't be any more
What goes with you
And doesn't always come back
An unborn star
You had in your hand
I'm here for you
And if you'll feel lonely
You're welcome to sing
A few notes with me-

Oh my far one
Will you hear my voice

Maybe on another day
Maybe on an occasion
And whoever is in a hurry
Shouldn't open a shop
The sages' words
Are heard in comfort
It was a great pleasure
It was very pleasant
As if you came without
But left with

Oh my far one
Will you hear my voice
It hasn't arrived by now
It won't arrive now
Understand the situation
The turtle is again on its back

The Flying Baby - I Want You to Love Me

Maybe it's because I spent the day in Jerusalem, but yesterday was such a perfect Autumn day, cool and bright. It was so fun to enjoy a few rays of sunshine while wearing a cardigan(!). But today, well, it feels like Summer isn't ready to say goodbye just yet, and it was one of those days when you faced the heat outside only if you really had to. At least I can enjoy some light summer tunes like this one. When I hear this song and close my eyes, I feel as if I'm at a summer concert at the Barby, which is always accompanied by a sense of freedom and sweet escapism. I'm still a bit bummed out that I missed The Flying Baby's reunion concerts this past July and that I'm going to miss their concert at this year's inDnegev. The truth is, I'm surprisingly okay with not going to inDnegev this year, maybe because I won't be coming from Be'er Sheva, but I think it has more to do with the fact that I just feel like I need a break from the festival so that I'll be able to enjoy it again. Two years ago, it was amazing experiencing it for the first time and last year it was...okay. The performances were great and I enjoyed spending time with festival friends I don't see very often but something was a bit off and I can't really explain what. Maybe the feeling that in its sixth year it was becoming a much bigger event than it had planned to be, which is great, I'm all for success, especially among independent artists who really deserve it. But still, the atmosphere wasn't the same and I regret not going to the first inDnegev festivals, which my friends came back from wide-eyed and with the feeling that they were part of something truly special. Now that I think about it, it's a bit how I feel about Geva Alon. I wrote here about the delight of discovering Alon just before his big break and I can't help but wonder how amazing it would have been to experience in real time the early years of his career with The Flying Baby instead of a reunion show. Geva's latest EP is flawless and it sounds like he really found himself as an artist and I guess also in general as a person. This song was recorded as part of material for their third album after Inner World, which had a very limited release, and Pain to Give,which in my opinion perfectly captures the chaotic period of the Second Intifada. The album never happened and Geva went on to a solo career but luckily the band released in June a remastered album of Inner World along with unreleased material. It's one of the best rock albums I've heard in a long time and I almost felt as if I was back in middle school, when I first dived into grunge and classic rock. 

Tatran - Anew

Lately there's been quite a buzz surrounding Tatran but only when I heard this song did I really get what's so magical about them. Much more melodic than their other singles and also more emotional. It reminds me a bit of Camel's majestic 'The Snow Goose' which first introduced me to the wonderful world of instrumental music only it's much more complex and somehow feels like 2013. It's also a perfect soundtrack for this refreshing time of the year when "after the holidays" has finally arrived and it's time to start anew.

LFNT - I Won't Tell

What an exhausting holiday, and it isn't even half over yet. After a double weekend (because Wed night was Erev Sukkot), I'm not sure if I'm mentally prepared for another double weekend (Simchat Tora, which my family never really celebrates because there's a limit to how many holiday family dinners you can handle) and in between Chol HaMoed which just seems like an excuse to take vacation off from work and go shopping or travelling. I would feel pretty okay about this endless holiday if I didn't have paper deadlines looming over my head, getting frighteningly closer. Even going out just to "clear my head" is starting to be accompanied by a guilty conscience, which is maybe why I can relate to this video so much. It's quite frustrating not to be able to join the careless party, for whatever reason. L.F.N.T stands for Live Free Not Troubled, Ran Nir's philosophy, which I sometimes need to remind myself to do! Nir is the bassist and one of the founders of the very successful Asaf Avidan & the Mojos. His debut album, 'Tales of a Drunken Man,' consists of songs he wrote while on the road with the Mojos and immediately after they split up. Listening to the album, you can really tell that Nir had a lot on his chest and he's able to express his emotions perfectly through the lyrics and music. This is one of my favorite songs from the album, but it works even better when listening to the album as a whole. L.F.N.T. recently released a new single from their 2nd album, "What Passes Off for Love," which sounds more musically developed while still maintaining the candid lyrics and high energy from their debut. They filmed an acoustic version of it as part of the Indie City Jerusalem project, and it's really charming with the tourists and Purim atmosphere. Hopefully, that will be a holiday I can fully celebrate this year!

Never been to Vietnam, I never fought the war.
Didn't know that living in the city can be such a bore.
One guy plays the trumpet and two girls play the drums.
They think it's pretty clever, but I think it's pretty dumb.
The more I know about tomorrow, the less I care about today.
And I've never been so sick in my life.

The people on the streets, they act like fools.
People on the streets, they try to look cool.
Every girl's fashion and everybody's drunk.
Every man has a passion some keep i in the trunk.
Some sink to depression, others only smile.
And I've never been so sick in my life.

And I know all about the world my friend, I do and I won't tell.

I'm a very young man, I'm just twenty five years old.
But I've got all the answers, Yeah I know it all.
I never claimed to be some kind of god.
Yeah, I'm just skin & bones, I'm just flash & blood.
It may upset you every once in a while.
To know that you've been living in a lie.
But ever since I've known and until the day I die.
I've never been so sick in my life.

And I know all about the world my friend, I do
All I know about the truth my friend, I know, but I won't tell!

I've never been so sick in my life.

Dudu Zakai - We Met Again

We met together again
The guys from '67
Yehezkiel, Gidi and Hanan
And the poet too
There was a feeling of no choice
Grey was the color
There was loneliness, the heart was heavy
There was that feeling
As if we were being planted here in nature
I knew then, that you I love

Sing to me my homeland your beautiful songs
How much I loved to sing them during difficult times

We met again the same half-track
From '67
The same smile, the same gaze
The same touching laugh
One was singing softly a song
About Dan and about Beersheva
Another sat absorbed and thinking
And around us the thundering of the night
Nature scowling his face
Irritated by the stranger approaching

Sing to me my homeland your beautiful songs
How much I loved to sing them during difficult times

We met together again
The guys from '67
It was hard, what is there to say
The heart was sad
We knew we'd overcome, simply
We did this for permanency
We knew this despite all the pain
We felt it in every valley
On every mound and hill
We let the ambusher feel it

Sing to me my homeland your beautiful songs
How much I loved to sing them during difficult times

I usually try to post the newest Israeli music, but today is a day for looking back. Since Rosh HaShana, we've been in the Ten Days of Repentance, a time for reflection, and it feels like the New Year will only officially start on Sunday after Yom Kippur. Since Rosh HaShana, the newspapers have been filled, alongside current news regarding Syria, with special articles regarding 40 years since the Yom Kippur war, whose importance as a defining moment in our small history as a country seems only to grow with time. I vaguely remember learning about the war in high school. I just remember the key terms: post '67 euphoria, Intelligence failure, the Bar-Lev line... I also remember a school trip to the North and Avigdor Kahalani recalling to us the battles as if it were yesterday, pointing at hills where there were tanks, and I just couldn't grasp that this was a former battlefield; it was so peaceful and pastoral. The information about the war feels endless, and new items are popping up even today, for example, Golda Meir's testimony at the Agranat committee, released for the first time on Thursday. I was especially interested not really in what exactly happened, but its effect on Israeli culture, even today. This article is about the artistic response to trauma, specifically in recent literature, and touches on collective memory in general. I got a bit lost in all the articles, but what did leave a lasting impression on me was the photo albums taken by soldiers, mostly reservists, who brought their cameras with them into the battlefield, completely aware that for some of their friends they photographed might be their last picture. All of the albums are intriguing and give important insight into what it was really like during the war, at least in "off-time", but a few really stood out for me:
The first is Danny Barzilay Goldstone's. Goldstone heard about the war when leaving the synagogue in Miami, and after some difficulty, he managed to catch a flight to Israel and went straight from the airport to the battlefield. Because of his experience in the Intelligence, he was recruited to the Jerusalem Brigade, which headed towards the Ismailia line. He recalls being impressed with the Egyptian Third Armia's pedant and sharp appearance, which stood in contrast to the Israeli soldiers who didn't shave and maintained a somewhat unkept look. Goldstein's album is so surreal. Posing by the bridges of the Suez he looks more like an amused tourist happy to be reunited with the guys rather than a worried soldier at war.
Another reservist who flew in from abroad is Amnon Horev, who was working in Colombia. Horev joined his troop, where he was a commander in the past, and they helped rescue the headquarters of Battalion 71, while he was still in his civilian clothes. He was able to get hold of a Uzi gun from a soldier who stayed behind because of illness. He recalls Moshe Dayan's visit towards the end of the war and how he turned his back to him. "I was mad at him because we had learned in the Attrition War that the strongholds aren't for stopping the enemy, and during the war they'll be evacuated. Up till today, I still don't understand why there wasn't a command to the guys to just get up and flee. It would have taken a few minutes and would have prevented hundreds of casualties." He says that the command probably wasn't ordered because of Gorodish, whom he had critiqued in '67, when he came to Horev's troop to lecture about the battle in Jersey and had said about him then, "They should kick him out of the army. He's arrogant and dismissive of the enemy". Yossi agreed before his death and said, "they should have kicked him out back then".
Another fascinating album is Eran Ronen's. Ronen, who was from Kibbutz Chulda living there with his wife and 7-month-old daughter, was recruited at 31 and served as a Zelda driver in Brigade 271. He died years later and during the war kept a journal in which he recorded the battles and entertainment performances. IDF archive just released documentation of those performances, which served as much-needed momentary escapism, a bit of which you can see here.
But one of my favorite albums is Tzvi Shiler's, not only because of the thoughtful photographs but also because of his recollections of the war 40 years later, which give the photos a whole new meaning. Here is a partial translation:

"Saturday, October 6th, 1973, two years after discharge from the military service as a division sergeant in the Golany brigade. I was a student at Tel Aviv University, on my summer break before starting my third year in Mechanical Engineering.
I passed the fast sleeping until the hours before noon when I got a phone call from a friend who told me that there was heavy movement on the roads. Geha road, by Ramat Efal, was bustling with traffic. It was clear that something had happened but we didn't know yet what it was. At 14:00 in the afternoon, a siren was heard, so we turned on the TV and realized that a war had broken out. Later in the day, we saw helicopters evacuating the injured to the nearby Tel HaShomer hospital.
On the radio, we heard recruitment passwords as if there wasn't a general recruitment. My twin brother, an officer in the Combat Engineer, received a command on that same night to report to his unit the next morning. My unit was less organized, and because I hadn't heard from them until the next morning, I drove on my own to the Squad Commanders School in the North. As usual, I brought with me my Zurky C Camera, a Russian imitation of Leica, which I received from my father for my school trip in the 4th grade, and has accompanied me since on every trip, in regular service and in reserves.
I saw in photography during the war a mission: to document the people and to tell in photos what we went through. I photographed out of the fear that some of the subjects wouldn't survive the war. For this reason, I spared no photos of soldiers, even those I didn't know.
On Monday morning, the 8th of October, I arrived with the rest of the brigade soldiers in Rosh Pina. We waited for what was to come while Air Force Skyhawks passed by us on their way to the Rama. Because of a lack of half-tracks, we couldn't join the fighting force. The few half-tracks were used by the regular forces who passed through Rosh Pina on their way to the Rama.
At the place, a war room for the brigade was set up from where the troop's Operation Officers followed the movement of the forces in the first fight on Hermon.
There was tension in the air, and it was clear that the situation wasn't good. At a certain point, the Operations clerk brought to the war room the list of casualties in the fight on Hermon. The Operations Officer, I don't know his name, quietly went over the list, but you could see the shock on his face upon learning the names of those killed.
On the commanding network, I heard Raful commanding the forces as if it were an exercise. In his voice it was difficult to tell the proximity of the Syrian forces...We passed the time reading newspapers and watching the foreign reporters broadcasting to the world about the war. Yoram Gaon passed by, not clear to where.
The next day, Tuesday, the 9th of October, we put our equipment on the buses and drove up to the Rama. We reached Kilaa ... Once in a while, Israeli planes who avoided Syrian rockets flew above us. Major Amanual Hart, whom I knew from my regular service, and who later became a Golani brigadier, arrived in the area and told us about the difficult battles taking place at the outposts.
From Kila we moved to a forest by Bukata, and from there we crossed the border in buses on Thursday evening (October 11) or Friday. A strange feeling. We are in the midst of fighting and sitting in an Egged bus...
...From Chaadar we went out to actions in the conquered area and on the way defended ourselves from strikes by Syrian aircrafts. When we received a warning of an air attack, the routine was to get off the half-tracks, keep one soldier on the heavy machine gun, spread out in the area, and be prepared to shoot at aircrafts. Luckily, we weren't attacked.
...On one of the nights, I was assigned to replace a half-track commander who was taken to action deep in the Syrian area. On the half-track were regular soldiers from Battalion 17, and they were quite indifferent to what was going on around them. I didn't know them and didn't question what they had gone through, but I figured they had had enough battles.
...The last mission in the war was to reinforce troops stationed during the second battle on Mount Hermon on one of the peaks in control of the Wadi descending from the mountain ridge. We carried water, equipment, and coats so that the forces on the mountain wouldn't freeze. On the mountain, we received two Syrian captives caught on their way from the Hermon post. We shared with them the coats we brought so they wouldn't freeze, and brought them down to the camp the next morning.
With the end of the fighting, we stayed in the enclaves and performed additional tasks such as assisting forces on one of the peaks over Bet J'aan. In the first round of releases home after the war, we passed by a Syrian convoy destroyed in the east of Kunetra by the Israeli Air Force.
After more than six months in reserves, I returned to my studies and successfully completed them after two years. I worked for a few years before I was sent by the Aerospace Industry to study a master's degree in Robotics at MIT. The studies lengthened to a PhD and a position at UCLA.
After more than 20 years, I came back to Israel in October 2001 to establish the Department of Mechanical Engineering and Mechatronics at Ariel College, which recently became Ariel University, and in which I am a professor today.
The photographs of war take me back 40 years, and they connect the hazy fragments of memory from that bloody war. It's strange to see in the pictures "war routine" which does not reveal the horror of that time. Moments of fear have been pushed out and forgotten, and made way for memories of brotherhood between fighters, mutual aid, and common fate in a seminal event that will not be forgotten for a long time.

The feelings of brotherly compassion Shiler describes are what I felt when I heard this gem by Dudu Zakai. He highlights how, despite the difficulties, there was a sense of solidarity and a very admirable and somewhat positive outlook. The song is part of a collection of songs released in the mark of 30 years after the Yom Kippur war and features a variety of songs from the period, some of which went on to become classics.
It reminds me of where I was 10 years ago on Yom Kippur. My family decided to take advantage of the long weekend, and we went down to Eilat. It was surreal but very peaceful and relaxing. There was a really calm atmosphere that I had never experienced in Eilat before. One vivid memory I have is from the beach, of my father attentively reading the commemorations about the war he experienced as a child just months after emigrating with his family from Romania. It seems so normal to read the paper at the beach but something about it struck me as strange, maybe the realization that you can't completely disconnect from everyday war-filled reality, which is what trips to Eilat are basically for. I feel that now that I have commemorated the war in my own way I'll now switch off the laptop and spend the rest of Yom Kippur reading books I have put aside because of lack of time, not newspapers. And of course I'll go on my annual ghost city walk which always helps me clear my head before the official beginning of the New Year.

Buttering Trio - Little Goat

I'm a little goat
My mother was a goat
But I still dare
Even though I'm small

After a very tense weekend, it's such a relief to return to normalcy, even if it's just temporary. And what better way than to dig into Kol HaKampus's (the national college radio station) end-of-the-year album chart? It was an outstanding year for Israeli music, and Aviv Guedj really deserves to be #1. It was also a lot of fun discovering new music which I had overlooked over the year, such as Buttering Trio. I remember reading about them when they released their LP and being very curious, mainly because of the amazing cover art. I never really got around to listening to them, except for Falafel and Voyage, which caught my eye on YouTube. The album was made in Berlin, Tel Aviv, and Kibbutz Dunietz, and it makes a lot of sense when you listen to it. I love how each song has its own style and story, and the band isn't afraid to experiment while still maintaining a signature sound. This specific song isn't from the LP-it might have been done as a parody, but it's a really adorable and catchy song. It's also a sharp reminder that even though it's very easy to forget, we live in the Middle East and also happen to share a border with Syria. I really like the Arabic influence in the song and once you start thinking about it, it's quite surprising how unusual it is. I've heard grown ups recall with nostalgia the Friday afternoon Arab movies on the TV which everyone would watch and cry to and it's a pity it doesn't exist anymore. In any case, I hope that the new year will bring with it great Israeli music just as amazing as this past year and maybe even with some more local influences. Shana Tova!