Vitarti - We All Lost / Your Own Drone

 

Vitarti are back! Here is what they wrote when they shared this first single from their new album back in October: "We All Lost - a new song. When we grew up in the 90s, for a moment, there was a euphoria of peace. One that was talked about, dreamed about. One that was just a touch away on the landline.

We All Lost is a lament for a childhood destroyed by a cruel reality. Cynical, painful, and sobering. One that our parents hoped to protect us from, one that we hope to protect from our children".

You promised me an olive branch by the end of the decade

Dressed up and excited, I waited in line

Peace, now

Mom, you said it wouldn't be dangerous here

Sitting, crying in the dark, calling the ERAN hotline again

What will be here, Dad? Is there a total victory yet?

I took four Clonex pills, I'll feel them soon

We are the children of Oslo 

Fall '93

A new Middle East and punk rock

You ruined my dreams

Because the dove exploded into pieces at Maxim

And I'm already used to seeing a thousand bodies on prime-time

Haim, Yavin

Mom, you promised back then that it would be great here

Sitting, crying in the dark, and ordering an expensive baguette

What will be here, Dad? Is there a total victory yet?

Getting dressed up for another evening, in the shelter

I scream but they don't hear

Time passes and there are more casualties

Bombs, tears, and fake pride

Helpless and scratching in my sleep

We all lost.

bfan.link/vitarti

Vitarti released their second single last month, about a week into the war: "A new song. Written two days ago, recorded and mixed yesterday. Not really, we're living in a two-and-a-half-year loop".

Let's fly from here to another place in time

A place where there are no more missiles

Let's fly from here, I packed on my own

But flights were canceled, I want to cry, I need an urgent rescue

Let's fly from here, but how?

And you listen to punk rock

And I to Yinon Magal

I sleep with my shoes on

And you with a light weapon

You deserve better than this, I swear, a long time ago, kus'emek already

I have a friend, Oded, a contract worker at Rafael

He organizes vacations to all the countries, the suitcases are a joke

You deserve your own drone

We'll go see Rancid

We'll live in northern Spain

Hug me around the waist

Hold my hand

Floating in the clouds

There are no more fears

On flying drones

We control its destiny

Flying to a new land

Where there is no contention and evil

Just you and me like back then

Just two bored people

bfan.link/katbam

Jimbo J - Crazy

 

It's day 28 of the war with Iran, and I keep thinking about how I've always heard that it takes about a month to form a new habit, how we've already gotten used to so many aspects of the "war routine": functioning on just a few hours of sleep, taking super quick showers, and using a setting on Waze to find the closest shelter while driving, all while life goes on. It feels like there's a general timeline of when the war with Iran will end, but the escalation in Lebanon is a whole other story. There's a very real possibility that life will go back to normal, more or less, but not in the North. This keenly relevant song is from Jimbo J's new album "It's All Good", written after he returned with his family to Kibbutz Or HaNer in the Gaza Envelope, eight months after being evacuated on October 7th. In his words, he describes in the album "the crazy day-to-day lives of small people living in the shadow of a huge war."

You and I are used to turning off the news every night to not let the sorrow seep through

To live alongside reality and not to let violence pollute the water of the well in our souls

It's crazy that in the midst of all this, another season has begun

And routine is fighting as hard as we are not to give in

Almost half a lifetime has passed since the day we met 

And most of it has been spent in war

It's crazy that in the midst of all this, gel polish

And packages from Shein

Washing machine and dryer, an air conditioning technician

Shawarma Hakosem

And all the while a guitar and a piano

And a question

When will it end

And at night, I hold you and there's noise over there beyond the fence

At first, I would still wake up and ask, what the hell?

And the truth is, I don't really remember anymore

Time passes, time passes

How crazy it is to get used to it

You and I are used to dropping the kids off every morning at the kindergarten

Against a backdrop of smoke mushrooms, we are used to the questions

Of our two princesses who want to know 

What makes us so sad when we hear a helicopter

It's crazy that in the midst of all this you and I want

To watch a show and we give in to tiredness like babies

And the sun wakes us up again on the couch

We haven't had nights for many days

It's crazy that in the midst of all this, a spare key

A swimming pool in Or HaNer

A barbecue, a baby chair, and reformer pilates

Glenlivet shots

In the midst of this, what sound does a tiger make

And a question

When will it end

And at night I hold you and there's noise over there beyond the fence

At first I would still wake up and and ask, what the hell?

And the truth is, I don't really remember anymore

Time passes, time passes

How crazy it is to get used to it

It's crazy that every day I move

Between giving up and dreaming of staying

To plant roots

Every day that passes I only love you more

My love

In the end it will end

Dudu Tassa - Emmanuel

 

When the siren catches me outside, I'll take shelter either in a community shelter, a store, or in another building, whatever's available. I was walking my dog this morning when it happened, and found myself sitting next to a man with two young children, and realized that he was taking on the "Life is Beautiful" approach I've seen many parents adopt in the past few weeks, calmly saying to them "It's meet the neighbors time, and look, we have a special guest and her cute dog, how fun!" I lifted my eyes from my phone to smile at them and tried to remove any hint of worry as we patiently waited for the all-clear. I thought of this video, which was such a delight to see yesterday on my feed amidst all the posts about the war. Here is what Dudu Tassa wrote: "A new video for Emmanuel. In a chaotic world that doesn't give quiet and doesn't allow for a routine, I wanted to stop for a moment and see things through the eyes of a little, innocent girl, who looks at everything with curiosity. I hope she still doesn't feel all the wars that are happening around us."

Watching it, I think of the little girls like Emmanuel over here and in Iran, in Lebanon, in Gaza, and in the West Bank, hoping they will grow up in a much more peaceful world.

Emmanuel laughs at
A bird in the garden, at light and shadow

At the man who walks with her in the city

Emmanuel is a little girl

She doesn't remember what was

She doesn't know that the heart is fragile

Eyes open to see

A smile through the tears

And she always falls asleep

With another song

What Emmanuel dreamed of

No one will know

No one asks

And she doesn't have words yet to explain

Emmanuel

And all the windows are open

In the skies of the city of angels

Only you see them blooming slowly

Emmanuel with the sunrise

Quietly, quietly and not crying

Sees how a shadow passes over the face

Slowly reaches out a hand

One woman and one man

Sleeping deeply between the sheets

And all the windows are open

In the skies of the city of butterflies

Only you see them blooming slowly

dudutassalink.lnk.to/newalbum

Tamouz - I Don't Know How to Tell You

I was very sad to hear today about Meir Israel's death at 73, after battling cancer. Meir was one of the country's leading drummers and was a member of the legendary rock band Tamouz, together with Shalom Hanoch, Ariel Zilber, Yehuda Eder, and Ethan Gedron. I immediately thought of this song and how the drums play such an important part here, echoing tense heartbeats.

I don't know how to tell you

Words cannot express

I am simply a boy who sings to you

Songs will not say anything.

I don't know what is eternity

Words cannot express

I am simply one who surely

Doesn't know anything

Maybe tonight there is no way

There is just injury and pain

I don't know how to tell you

How much I love you

Don't know what happened to me

Words cannot express

And I am alone and sad

And you don't say anything

I am sitting here, waiting for you

Waiting for you and writing

Because I don't know how to tell you

How much I love you.

Thank you Moshe Kaye for the translation.

It's day three of the war with Iran, and I have a feeling we have many more days ahead. I'm still getting used to the new but familiar reality of living with the sirens, but I'm hopeful that this is the storm before the calm, and that there is a chance that we will have a safer reality on the other side of this.

Matti Caspi - A Place for Worry

Rest in Peace Matti Caspi, you are already dearly missed.

Matti's talent for composing shines in this timeless and haunting song, written by Yehonatan Gefen after the Yom Kippur War.

At the edge of the heavens and the desert

there's a far place full of wild flowers

a small place, wretched and insane

a far place, a place for worry.

Over there they tell what will happen

and think of all that has happened.

God sits there and sees

and guards over all that He created.

It's forbidden to pick the garden flowers

It's forbidden to pick the garden flowers

and worrying, terribly worrying.

Translation from Hebrewsongs.com

Rita - Waiting

"It's a dream that may be slowly becoming a reality. The protesters there are paying the highest price, the price of human life, with everything they have, in fact. These are very brave people who deserve appreciation for what they are doing against all odds. After all, they are dealing with dark forces that throw anyone they want into prison, and kill without reckoning. If the war they are waging now ends in a revolution, and the regime in Iran falls, I feel that the whole world will become brighter - certainly our lives in Israel. There is so much beauty, depth, and color in Persian culture, and I pray that one day all of these will return to be the face of Iran. Of course, I support those who are protesting, am proud of them and pray for them."

I wanted to share these words of hope from Rita, who immigrated to Israel from Iran when she was eight years old and has become one of Israel's top singers, always proud of her Persian heritage. These are days of tense uncertainty. I'm terrified of the fate of Iranians if the regime stays in place and the brutal crackdown that will follow, and how things will play out over here if there's an escalation. As a person who values freedom and secular rights, I can only hope that one day things will be different.

One day it will happen

Without our even noticing it, something will change

Something within us will calm down, something will touch us

And there won't be anything to fear.

And it'll come, like a line engraved in the palm of your hand

It'll come, self-assured

As if it had always been there, waiting for us to notice.

And it'll come, you'll see

Your tightly clutched hands will open

And the heart that guards us from pain will beat regularly again

It'll come, like nature is accustomed

To be at peace with itself.

One day it will happen

Without our even noticing it, something will change

Something within us will calm down, something will touch us

And there won't be anything to fear.

And it'll come, like a line engraved in the palm of your hand

It'll come, self-assured

As if it had always been there, waiting for us to notice.

And it'll come, you'll see

Your tightly clutched hands will open

And the heart that guards us from pain will beat regularly again

It'll come, like nature is accustomed

To be at peace with itself.

And it'll come, you know

Not everything will shake us

Not everything will strike

And what will open up for us

Waits.

Alon Eder and Band - The Future

Finally! I woke up so excited on Monday and rushed to my mom's place so we could watch the hostage release together. It felt like the whole country had stopped, and it helped that there wasn't work in most places because it was Erev Simchat Torah. Words can't explain how moving it was to see the 20 living hostages released, and to see the emotional reunions with their loved ones. Later in the afternoon, I heard and saw the helicopters bringing some of the hostages to one of the hospitals nearby. It was such a relief after I had become accustomed to hearing them only during emergencies, often carrying wounded soldiers in urgent need of care. For the first time, the released hostages didn't have to rush to send messages delivered from hostages left behind, and they didn't have to advocate for their urgent release after coming back from the nightmare of captivity. For the first time, they could focus on healing and recovery, and so can we. Now we are waiting for the bodies of 18 deceased hostages; 18 families deserve closure and a final goodbye.

I was just thinking that this will be the third October without the beloved InDnegev festival, when I saw an emotional post announcing the return of the festival in November:

Returning home and making hope bloom:

Two years since the world turned upside down for us.

We have all had two difficult and painful years, two years of dealing with endless pain and a lack of clarity about the future.

Work on InDnegev 23 was interrupted just before we reached our destination, and everything stopped.

We are excited and happy to announce that InDnegev is returning home, and we invite you to take part. 

This is a call to everyone who is still determined to create hope, determined to dream of peace and a normal life, of a positive and healthy reality. This is a call to activism, to solidarity, to everyone who still has a drop of faith - come make hope bloom with us.

On November 13-15, we will open Mitzpe Gvulot and hold a very special and limited version of InDnegev, a weekend of cultural and artistic activity, a weekend in which we will escape to reality, the one we want and can create.

For the past two years, we have said that we will stay in Mitzpe Gvulot, and that we will wait until all the kidnapped people return and the war is over before we hold the festival again. We have always seen this as part of our mission - to be part of the renewed blooming of the Western Negev, through music, art, and people.

And now, even though everything is still broken and the future is still unclear, we can see a small ray of light. It is time to start creating a space again where we can look deeply into the wounds and begin the process of healing and recovery, allow ourselves to create hope, and allow ourselves to feel compassion.

We intend to do what we have always done: create an open and respectful space, with a diverse and amazing community, with an abundance of ideas. We will set up our stages and, next to them, the conversation tents and the displays, we will bow our heads in the face of the death and destruction of the past two years and raise our heads together to the sounds of hope.

The future is growing in you

And soon it will be reflected

It's also mine, it's also yours

We'll give it a name, it will take the rest

Without a plan, without an introduction

It simply decided to arrive

It's also yours, it's also mine

And everything else feels marginal

The heart beats with excitement

In the head, everything is less simple

This is just a drop in humanity

We'll row, and then we'll learn to sail

The future is very close

I don't even have time to think

It's also mine, it's also yours

We'll give it a name, it will take the rest