Gabriel Balachsan-Even with my eyes open

Even with my eyes open I do not see a thing

Even with my eyes open I do not see a thing

And I'm the one who saw from above I heard

And I'm the one who kept her so long

Particles of air are fading and floating thinly above us

Even with my legs standing there's a widening pit below me

Even with my legs standing there's a widening pit below me

And I'm the one who caught fire

And I'm the one who roared

And I'm the one who chased signs

Particles of fog are coming towards us to cover us in the dark

Nothing fills me

Maybe god maybe a woman maybe drugs

Will I last another week another year

Only with my eyes closed a world is discovered before me

Only with my eyes closed a world is discovered before me

And it's not pink and has no fairies

And the angels sang toothless

But full of ideas

Which have a clear truth

Nothing fills me

Maybe meat maybe heavy breasts

Maybe eternal sleep and enough…and enough

Last Tuesday afternoon the buzz of Yehuda and Ninet's split quickly spread through the net, mainly joking about the "national tragedy" and the shock it brought to the entertainment world. But a few hours later we mourned a real tragedy-the untimely death of 37 year old Gabriel Balachsan, famous as the guitarist of Algiers with Aviv Guedj but also a highly respected singer and songwriter in his own right, who suffered from Bipolar disorder. He was never shy about his illness as it was a huge part of his life and his music. I first came across Balachsan in an interview he did a couple of years ago-I can't quote sentances but I was very impressed with how he was able to express his complex inner world in such a clear and honest way. I tried to check out his music but it was too overwhelming for me-the emphasis was on the lyrics-long endless monologues which were difficult to digest, also due to their dark content. I felt that I really needed to put aside time to listen carefully to his music while reading the lyrics, like reading a book, and I kept putting it off, I was never in the right mood. Several months ago I came across his songs again, and this time I made an effort to really listen to his music. I couldn't hear more than a few songs but this one, maybe his most famous, caught my attention the most:

Bad flowers and the depression is sour and damned

I lie on the bed all day and think

About how I will end my life,

An air balloon lost in the sky

Steel weights in the body, in the head

I'm sick God I'm looking at the sunrise in a movie on TV

And miss the sun I knew before I broke down

Miss the color of things before they became dark

Nothing moves me

I want to vomit all of this despair

And time crawls about, a door opens, the sun dies

Iron birds are chirping, my eyes are half closed

Watching the grass and it hurts it hurts to sink like this

In the middle of life and to die every day from everything that moves

To chain-smoke to hug the cigarette

To ask her to pray that here you'll get up in the morning and everything was and isn't

Absorbed in memory

And Gabriel gets up from the sick bed and begins to sing

A sing of praise to the real time in which you breathe

The real breathes which are full of glory

And the dew lands on your happy body and fills you with life

To breathe the skies to walk barefoot on moist ground to smile

To dance in the air as if without weight

To feel the music in the body floating in the breathing space

To sing, to jump from the bed in excitement from a day full of surprises

From just a kind of excitement

To drink coffee and to feel the taste

To hug someone, hug something, touch the spirit

To see the color of things

To talk with someone just because without hurting no hurting

Where is it where did it disappear

Darkness shadow of death sandman crumbling with every step

The pounds of feet on the earth are crumbling me

I'm hiding from the world in bed

The eyeball stares stillness visible darkness

A shadow from the past passes by, I choke

What's worth a round eye in front of the sun

All of my writings I burned in the sink

The hand that holds the pen scares me

Like the big abyss in which my world fell which is small and narrow

Like a dark alley

And the eye sees all of the cars and all of the towels hanging on the rope

Moving in the wind whispering to the stones which whisper to the plants

Gabriel what happened to you, moving like a shadow seeing the sights and not being able to

To speak is to whistle the words from the lungs and it leaves me exhausted

Tikun of my grief guides before you

A dog with an injured eye is bitten in a battle in the night of Telmy Eliahu

And there's no one to pray to and no one to ask

Because the night that fell on Sodom is very dark

And the morning doesn't bring light and the sun has no color.

Cos Ochto all of the words and tunes and talk

Only the coffee has taste and the cigarettes burn and this too barely in this hell

I'm stuffed of pills and can't see the end of this damned thing

Walking around like in a particularly bad dream

And I have no words at all to explain the feeling

Everything is sour and thick how can you describe this suffering

Everything's dead, dead

Everything's different

I'm not me

Sealed and sticky

Cos Ochto for everything

The song is very hard to digest but for me it was extremely helpful because at the time (and still today) I was trying to deal with the mental illness of a close family member, trying to understand, just a bit, what's going on in her head and for that I'm very thankful for Balachsan. I talked to her about his death and she had a bit of
difficulty understanding why everyone's so sad-he's obviously in a much better place. Maybe, but there was still hope for recovery, for a happy ending. I recently saw the doco about him and he was so full of life, so full of love for those around him.

He was also an amazing guitarist and really shone when he performed with Guedj in Algiers

I smoke only when I have to

Never more than I have to.

If I had the energy I would get up and shout.

Run away break down never come back again.

A million pills,

The doctors give me.

So I won't scream won't laugh,

Won't wake up anymore. That's the game.

A well designed game,

Not like in dreams you need to move. Move and quickly.

From the sniper's fire from the thought's fire from the sword's fire.

I'm in the pipe.

Now it's four in the morning,

Sweating under the black cotton blanket,

Looking at the crooked ceiling.

I would like to love you.

Without waiting.

Without breaks.

Here and now among the ruins.

To take you with me into the pipes.

Now begins the music of illness.

Music of hell it's not happiness.

It's just depression.

I don't like when they bother me to concentrate in my dreams.

Autumn will come and get rid of all the dirt on me.

And tonight,

You are going to dream the most beautiful dreams.

Our dreams are the true story.

Now I'm perfect.

Now I don't remember any little thing,

Not even a little detail.

And there is and there is and there is

And there is all the time possible, that's left, a month, two.

Maybe a year maybe more.

The pill is already in the blood,

There are no more thoughts,

No more voices,

There is only love among the ruins.

I am in the pipes.

For already several days.

Already several weeks.

Already a good several years.

Maybe I lost all feeling,

Thinking I'm flying but actually on the ground.

So I drink the salty rain.

Stoned from the sea or drunk from the wind, drunk from the wind.

http://www.haaretz.com/culture/arts-leisure/.premium-1.542844