בצילם של הארועים ההומופוביים, והאלימות המפעפעת במקומותינו, הנה שיר. אפשר לשמוע אותו באתר, לדעתי, ואפשר גם ביו טיוב, אבל אלה מילותיו. במקור, השיר הזה נכתב תחת ההקדשה” למאיר אריאל, ולכבוד מיליון טועים” אח”כ הוא היה סוג של הקדשה לשפה העברית, ובסוף הוא עבר למחלקה העצבנית, ושם הוא יושב לו עד היום, יושב ומתעצבן שאף אחד לא הקשיב למילים שלו. אז זהו, שיר עצבני. תהנו.

התנגדתי והתנגדתי, בסוף יצאתְ לי מכל החורים. את זונה קטנה של אחרים

אם את עומדת על שלך, רוצה אותי כל כך, אז שימי לב, אני לא הולך להתאהב

אני אהיה לך גוף ראשון זכר, כאילו אין מחר

פיתחת לך ציפיות משדות זרים. לא באתי ללקק לך ת’פצעים, למצוא לך הסברים

להזיז לך ת’ישבן ברחבת הריקודים, לא לספר לך סיפורים בחרוזים, לא לעשות שפטים

אני לא מוחה ולא בוכה על הימים. אני אוהב את החיים. אז תני כבוד, כי באתי לעבוד

הו, מילים, מילים, מילים. שפה קשה ואין אונים

אני לוקח ברצינות את הבשר באישיות, אני אמן של אי שפיות, את מבינה

אני רוצה לרקוד על כל החתונות, ולאכול את העוגה בשני קצוות

אני מותח את החבל, אין ספק, עוד מישהו יביא לי במרפק, ואין ספק

עכשיו כשהשפה ברורה, ברור לי שלחגיגה יבוא גם השטן וגם האלוהים, ולא תבדילי ביניהם

שניהם יהיו דומים. שניהם יבואו מפתים, שניהם יהיו קצת עייפים

יקפיצו לך טקילה ומילים של צדיקים

הו, מילים, מילים, מילים. שפה קשה ואין אונים…

זה שיהיה צדיק מדיי ועצבני, זה שיגיד שהוא הכי הכי, זה שיגיד בשם השם

שהוא חושש למצבך, שהוא רואה את חרפתך, זה שיציע לך תיקון, ריסון, גיוון

זה שיגיד דברים בשם אמרם ויעוות ת’משמעות, זה שרואה שחור לבן ומפחד ממורכבות

זה שיגיד שמנהגו של העולם הוא כך וכך, ישר ולא עקום, ברור ולא עמום

זה שרוצה לרגום באבנים את כל החטאים, זה ששונא אה ה

זה שכופה את דעתו על אחרים, וממהר לתלות את הטועים

זה שטוען את דעתו בטעונים, מין הקצה אל הקנה של היורים

תרשי לי קצת לגעת פה בדעת חכמים

תרשי לי דבר תורה אחד קטן, כי התורה מכל אדם, ולה שבעים פנים

אמר כבר רוברט צימרמן, האיש והמילים, לפעמים מופיע השטן כאיש האלוהים

ליתר ביטחון, נראה שאז כמו היום, לפעמים מופיע השטן כאיש שלום

הנה השיר ביו טיוב:

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מראיינת: אתה נושא על גבך ברונזה ורגשי אשמה
תומרקין: בדיוק
מראיינת: ומה יותר כבד?
תומרקין: רגשות אשמה תמיד יותר כבדים
מראיינת: על מה רגשות אשמה?
תומרקין: אין על מה. זה יפה ככה. למה לקלקל את זה עם פרטים מכוערים?

רגשות אשמה כהתעסקות באסתטיקה
זו באמת מחשבה של אמן אולטימטיבי ]]> http://www.hadara.co.il/words/?feed=rss2&p=49 0 http://www.hadara.co.il/words/?p=46 http://www.hadara.co.il/words/?p=46#comments Mon, 29 Dec 2008 13:26:40 +0000 Hadara http://www.hadara.co.il/words/?p=46 ALONE IS ALONE IS ALONE is something about the inherent heart break that hovers upon the relationship between the artist and his ever changing status in the world. It’s an eternal battle of sorts; on the one hand, there’s the urgent need to get somewhere,saying something, and on the other hand there’s this gnawing sense of going nowhere, with nothing to say. Or worse, going nowhere with something to say. Or worse yet, going somewhere HUGE with nothing to say. Or worse, what ever. There’s always something worse, that’s for sure, in that darkly road of a fervent artist. So depressing, but then, there’s the music getting in the way, and it makes you sunddelnly believe. Against all odds, of courrse. I mean, listen to these buch of musicians. It’s really a celebration. This first single from the new album was one of the last to be recorded. Most of the musicians heard the song for the first time the day we recorded it. I called the harmonica player on that very day ( I had met him a couple of days earlier per chance), and asked him if he were free just now, to come to the studio, and give the song a spontaneous blow. Oh man, he did. The greatest blow job ever.

If this is your low tide, I’m on the wrong side, hearing your pride beaten down, flat on the ground, wings flapping around, crying for help. No body cares, as you’re falling from grace, and the race keeps numbing your heart to the craze. No body listens, there’s no intermission, the world keeps spinning, not easing your mind. No one cares anymore, once a star once a whore; no one covers your song, no one’s rolling a stone. Get it into your head, baby, alone is alone is a lone!

The minute you go is the minute I know, I lost your love forever.
The minute you go is the minute I know, I had your precious splendor in my hand.

Baby, don’t go, please don’t go.

If this is your low tide, I’m on the wrong side, hearing your pride beaten down,
flat on the ground, wings flapping around, crying for help.

And no body cares, as you’re falling from grace,
and the race keeps numbing your heart to the craze.
And no body listens, there’s no intermission,
the world keeps spinning, not easing your mind.
No one cares anymore, once a star once a whore; no one covers your song,
No one’s rolling a stone. Get it into your head, baby, alone is alone is a lone!

הרגע שעזבת הוא הרגע שידעת שאיבדת לעד את אהבתך.
הרגע שהלכת הוא הרגע שידעת, שהיה זוהר יקר בידך.
בייבי, אל תלך, אל תלך.

אם זה רגע שפל, אני בצד הלא נכון, הגאוּת שלך מוכה על הרצפה, כנפיה עוד מפרפרות בסביבה, וזועקות לעזרה.

ולאף אחד לא איכפת, כשאתה נופל מגדולתך, והמרוץ ממשיך להקפיא את ליבך לטרוף.
ואף אחד לא מקשיב, ואין הפסקה, והעולם ממשיך להסתובב, ושום דבר אינו מניח את דעתך.
ולאף אחד לא איכפת עוד, פעם כוכב ופעם זונה;
אף אחד לא עושה קאברים לשירים שלך, והאבנים אינן מתגלגלות.
תכניס את זה לראש שלך, בייבי, לבד זה לבד זה לבד

Music and Lyrics by Hadara Levin Areddy
Produced by Hadara Levin Areddy

Hadara Levin Areddy: vocals & keybords
Naaman Tal: acoustic & electric guitars
Avi Schneider: trombone & additional voice
Elad Sikel: bass
Yaron Elimelech: drums
Roy Rieck: harmonica

הראש שלך מלא דמעות והגיונות, הלב בחלומות,
שונאת דעות קדומות, מאמינה בטעויות ונפלאות.
הבטחת שתתעשתי. שלא תשירי שיר עם משוואות בתבניות,
“למי יש שער בעיתון, למי יש פה הכי גדול
ומי הכי יפה בעיר, ומי הכול יכול”

עזבי, לכי על האחד היחידי, נפצי את כל האלילים החדשים,
את הפסלים שברי, ובדורך חדשי, אל תחששי ואל תראי, דברי חופשי.
שירים שלא ינוס לֵחָם, ולב חכם, לכי זקוף, לכי איתן,
מילים כְּדָרְבָּנות דַבְּרי, בּשמֵךְ, ולא בשם העם.

על הנייר הלב שלך חשוף כמו לוח, לכל הכיוונים פתוח,
נותן לרוח לשחק ברגשות, מלחמת עולמות,
70 פנים לך ודעות, ובליבך אותות.

האמיני בעצמך, יפה שלי, זמרת. אני עפר קטן, ואת צמרת.
אל תהיי לרוח החופשית שלך סוהרת.
באתי לפתחך היום, זורח, נכון להתארח.
אני מודה, אני נרגש, אבל שבוי. רוצה להיות לך מלך, רוצה להיות ראוי.
אז אל ייחר אפֵּךְ, אל תעזביני, נסי לרגע במקומי, אולי תביני, האזיני.

אני מקדיש לך את הראפּ מכל הלב. אם לא תרצי אותי אני עוזב.
לא אגיד עלייך לעולם מילה רעה, לא אוציא דיבה, לא תתפסי אותי במחאה.

את התקווה היחידה, אהבתי הראשונה. צלחת איתי לילות טרופים כבדי שנה.
את תחנת הרדיו הישנה.

וכל ההקדמה הזאת (בסוף יוצא תמיד שכל הפואנטה כבר מוצתה בהקדמה, ומה שאחריה הוא רק מין אסמכתא מין החיים) באה לומר שאתמול היה טוב (בהופעה), והיום התחיל רע, בחבלות תקשורתיות ביני לבין אנשים יקרים לי, ונשארתי עם טעם של בלגאן רגשי עודף, שאני לא מסוגלת להכיל, ושוב, הפחד הזה שעכשיו אף אחד לא יאהב אותי יותר (וזאת למרות שאתמול הייתה לי הופעה באמת מצוינת). זה תמיד הבוטום ליין של כל האפטר-מאת’ של כל סערות הנפש, שעכשיו, בשקוט הסערה, אף אחד לא יאהב אותי. איכשהו נדמה לי שכולם יודעים להסתדר עם זה, ורק אני נתקעת על איזו מילה (שלי) שנאמרה אולי שלא במקומה, או על טון דיבור (שלי) שנרגש מכלאו, והפיל כמה משוחות מרוב דהירה. הסביבה שלי דווקא ממשיכה להתנהל בתקינות נפשית מדהימה בבריאותה. איכשהו כולם יודעים תמיד לשים הכול בפרופורציה, ולהמשיך, ורק הלב שלי עוד מתפעם ביתר חרדות. אני אמנם אוהבת לריב, אבל לוקחת דברים ללב. אני אוהבת להתווכח, אבל נשארת עם חרדות. מפוחדת מעצמי יותר מכל דבר אחר. אין ספק שאני חייבת להירגע עכשיו, אם אני לא רוצה להחמיר את עצמי, עם עצמי, ועם העניינים עצמם (שכולם פשוטים ופתירים להפליא, זו רק אני שעושה מכל פתית שלג, קרחון ארקטי). די כבר.

לפעמים נמאס לי להיות אישית להחריד. המחיר צורב ואינסופי. אבל אין לי ברירה, ומוטב לי לשלם את המחיר על מי שאני, מאשר לשלם את המחיר על מי שאינני. וחוץ מזה, בסופו של יום, האישי להחריד הוא הכי קרוב שאפשר לגעת באוניברסאלי להחריד. כל ראיית העולם צומחת משם, מין האישי להחריד. כי אם האישי רוצה להתקיים באיזושהי נחת בסיסית בעולם, הוא מחויב לתת את אותה נחת בסיסית לכל האישיים להחריד האחרים, בכל מין וצבע וגזע וגיל, תהא האחרוּת שלהם אחרת ונבדלת וחריגה ככל שתהיה.

ומאותו מקום אישי להחריד לא רק ראיית העולם שלי נובעת, גם אני עצמי נובעת משם, אם כי בעל כורחי לפעמים. ומין המקום הזה גם נכתבים השירים שלי, ומשתוללות ההופעות שלי.

אבל למה נזכרתי פתאום בכל זה? כי לפני כמה ימים הייתה לי חרא של הופעה, מבחינתי לפחות, ואני חוששת אפילו לדעת את בחינתם של האחרים. אין לי ספק אמנם שהיו בהופעה כמה נגיעות של חסד מופלא. אבל בסך הכול, יצאתי מההופעה מתוסכלת ומותשת מעצמי ומין הרגרסיות הרגשיות והביצועיות שגלשתי אליהם במה שהיה נדמה לערן כיֶצר של הרס עצמי שמתגבר עליי מידי פעם. לא סתם מתוסכלת ומותשת, אלא ממש חבולה רגשית מסערות הנפש שבפנים, כשהגוון השולט בחבורות שהסערה הותירה הוא סוג של שנאה עצמית שאינה מוכנה להתפייס, שנסחפה במערבולת פנימית, בְּלופּ אינסופי ואכזרי במיוחד. יצאתי מההופעה בבושת פנים. רציתי הביתה, לאמא. שכחתי אפילו להודות לכל העמלים שעשו עבודה יקרה, שני הנגנים שלי, המקום הנפלא ואנשיו, הסאונדמן והקהל עצמו.

מה היה שם, שהוציא ממני את השדים? אני לא בדיוק יודעת מה היה הטריגר. באופן כללי, זה היה יום תפוס כזה. על הבוקר התעוררתי אל תוך ערפילים של כובד שלא הצלחתי להיחלץ ממנו, ולאורך כל היום נרדפתי על ידי עצמי כמו במין מרוץ חסר מוצא לשומקום. כשהגעתי להופעה, הרגשתי אפוסת כוחות, ועוד בתוכי המשכתי למהר לאן שהוא לא מובחן. אני נזכרת שכשעליתי על הבמה, לא נשמתי, לא נפרדתי מהמציאות. בדרך כלל, לפני שאני עולה לבמה, אני צריכה לכבות את המציאות, ולהדליק את ההופעה. הפעם, מתוך הפזיזות ופיזור הרוחין של כל אותו היום, שכחתי לעשות את זה. שכחתי לכבות לגמרי את המציאות, ולא הספקתי להדליק את אוּנת ההופעות שלי מלוא אוׁנהּ. אסור לערבב בין שני החללים, בין שתי האוּנות. חוקים אחרים לחלוטין חלים בשני המקומות. הפעם עליתי להופעה בלי שהספקתי לעשות את הסוויצ’. זו הייתה טעות ראשונה. בכלל, פיזרתי המון אנרגיה לפני ההופעה, ולא שמרתי על עצמי, וכשעליתי לבמה המשכתי את אותה אנרגיה מפוזרת, במקום לעצור, לשטוף פנים, להתרענן רגע, להחליף דלק, ורצוי גם מנוע, ולצאת לַטריפ.

אבל לא די בזה ששכחתי לכבות את האור ולהחליף אוּנות, יש לי גם נטיות סבוכות לחלק את סבלותיי האלה עם הקהל. לספר לו בדיוק מה עובר עליי, עד כמה שאפשר, לא רק בשירים עצמם, ולא רק בביצוע שלהם, אלא גם בין השירים. היין פותח לי את הלב, ואני מעודדת אותו לכך עם כל הלב, ומותחת את הגבול. אבל הפעם, אפילו ליין נדמה שהגזמתי, שיש דברים שהשתיקה יפה להם. מתחתי את הגבול עד כדי כך, שהוא נקרע ממני, והשאיר אותי לבד, בלי גבול ובלי רסן.

ומי יודע מה אמרתי שם, בין השירים. הגזמתי עם הנושאים הרגילים שלי. לרגעים הרגשתי שהגזמתי, וניסיתי לעצור את עצמי, אמרתי לעצמי, “הדרה, את צריכה ללמוד מתי לשתוק. תשתקי. תנעלי רגע את האישי להחריד, שימי בצד את האמת שלך, ותתחילי לעשות אמנות”, אבל זה לא עזר, ובעל כורחי המשכתי להיות אישית להחריד, ולשלם את המחיר. בתוכי הרגשתי כמו זירת קרב חבוטה שמתחולל בה מאבק מגושם וחסר אונים בעצמי, ובחוץ שוטטו באוויר רק חלקי משפטים מותשים וטרופים, עם פואנטה מוקצנת ולפעמים תלושה מהקשרה. הטרוף התפזר באוויר, ועלה על גדותיי. לא הצלחתי לעצור את הפרץ, ומהר מאוד גם לא ניסיתי לעצור את הפרץ. היה איזה רגע שהרגשתי שהגעש מתדפק להתפרץ, והודעתי לקהל שאני עומדת לפרוק כל עול, שאני מוותרת על הניסיון המסורבל להיראות במיטבי, וביקשתי מעצמי ומהקהל, שננסה ליהנות מזה. אבל לא הצלחתי ליהנות.

אין לי בעיה עם הטרוף עצמו, אם הוא יושב טוב. אם הוא נוגע, מתקשר, קשוב, מגיב, מדויק, ממוקד, עשוי היטב, מגיח בזמן ובמקומות הנכונים, במידה, מודע להקשרו ואסתטי. אבל כשהוא מתנגח חסר כל רסן ובלי כיוון, הוא בלתי נסבל, גם לי, ואני חוששת, גם לקהל.

הופעות טובות נגמרות מהר, ואדוותיהן מחיות את הנפש ואת עור הפנים. הגרורות של הופעה לא מוצלחת מענות תופת ומכרכמות את עור הפנים. הגוף צורח מעייפות, אבל אינו יכול לישון. מחשבות בלתי נסבלות טורפות את הדעת ומתערבבות בחלומות שרק אלוהים יודע מי המציא אותם, ואיך הגיעו לתוך ראשי. הבוטום-ליין של החלומות והמחשבות הטורדניות זה הלך הרוח החרדתי שלהם. כל דבר מפחיד אותך, וכל דבר נראה כמו סוף העולם ממש. סוף הקהל, סוף הקריירה, סוף האהבה, סוף הכישרון, סוף הכריזמה, סוף החברים, סוף האמונה, סוף שמחת החיים, סוף החיים, סוף העולם. והכול באשמתי ובאחריותי. ועכשיו אף אחד לא יאהב אותי יותר, ואני רוצה להתחבא מכל מי שראה אותי בהופעה הזאת, ולא יאהב אותי יותר.

מזל שיש חגים. כי אחרי החגים אני מבטיחה להיות ילדה טובה. העיקר שתאהבו אותי. אני כבר שלכם מזמן.

שנה טובה, וחג שמח.

TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING

Too sweet to be true, and so fucking new, to sweet to fall in love with you, so absolutely not like anyone before,
I’ve fallen way yonder for many a beautiful boy.

If yesterday you came my way, I wouldnt’ve seen the magic.
If yesterday you called my name, I wouldnt’ve heard your voice.
Something foreign in the air has twisted all the rules.
The game became so young again, and babe, it’s bringing back the blues.

I try to be precise, more real, more true with words to you. But running out of waters, I get stuck with loving you, Just like that. Just like that. My mind is running blank.

I used to love the young & blazing, mad & amazing, hard & somewhat sweetly plasticating, masticating, tempting to the lips & bones, American style hip-hop & all
with some neo laid-back chic of some passive-alternative soul. But I never loved anyone more than Rock & Roll.

Let me put it this way, for 20 years or so,
I never got laid by anyone older in this world.
You move me on the soft side, I’m used to tripping wild.
I’m scared to be tamed, but I’m taking this ride.
People say it’s time

Words come easy when you’re messing with your mind.
It’s just another morning where you left your skin behind.
Sea-salt air, a gentle buzz, the inner city wake up call.
And I would give it all to you, but you always wanted more.

Your CK perfume is the mild of the set.
It never lasts on anyone else longer than your self.
I sniff it while it lingers, like a mad dog under your spell.
But too much of a good thing will get you straight to Hell

BUT I NEVER LET YOU DOWN, why don’t you stay some with me, to the end of time

במילים אחרות, גם כשאני כותבת על אהבה מאוד טעונה ואישית, אני ערה, נניח, לכסף שעולה להקליט אותה, את האהבה, וכמה זמן ייקח לה להגיע לרדיו.

וכל זאת הייתה מין הקדמה למה שעובר עליי בימים האלה. את כל האמת אני משאירה לאחרית הימים, אבל את חלקה הארי אני מנסה לספר. בשירים, או בין השירים. האמת השלמה, אם ישנה, תתחוור רק עם הזמן, במבט עתידי לאחור, ואז ודאי יהיו לי הגיונות חדשים בעניינה.

כרגע, שני אלבומים כמעט גמורים מחכים לגוֹדוֹ, ועוד איזה טון שירים מתפקעים על שולחני, סוֹ טוּ סְפִּיק. אָה, וגם הספר.

כשכל אלה נמצאים בחשיכה, טרם יציאתם לאור, משקלם הרבה יותר כבד.
כשהיצירות יוצאות לאור, הן שוחות בו כמו גוף במים, משקלם רגוע יותר, ואין לחץ על המפרקים.

כרגע אני בשיא הלחץ. מרוב זמן שחלף, האלבומים (שטרם יצאו לאור) משתנים מאליהם. אפילו אם שום דבר לא השתנה בהם, הם משתנים. כל סביבת ההתייחסות אליהם משתנה במהירות, ואין להם סיכוי להישאר על עומדם.

הלוואי שגם זו לטובה.

ובהזדמנות עברית זו, שני אלבומים שלקחו את ליבי:

האחד הוא אלבומו של סנדק הדרום, דוד פרץ, “הייקו בלוז” והשני הוא אלבומו של שלומי שבן, “עיר”.
האחד הוא מלך האלטרנטיבה, האחר הוא מלך המרכז
ואני באמת מתכוונת לסוג של מלכים

הם החברים המוסיקאלים היקרים שלי
שלמרות שהם עבריים מאוד, הם אוניברסאלים ועל-מקומיים הרבה יותר מרוב הלשונות הזרות שנשמעות במחוזותינו..

לא רק בגלל שנפשם במוסיקה והמוסיקה בנפשם באופן מלא וחכם ואוהב עולם ואדם, אלא שגם העברית שבתוכם היא כל כך שורשית, לא מתייפייפת, לא מתחכמת, רק חכמה ודייקנית מאוד,
והם מתענגים בה כמו במוסיקה שלהם
ויש להם שפה משלהם, וורבלית ומוסיקאלית, כה יחודית
שהיא חוצה עולמות

הנה, הדרינק הבא זה לכבודכם, דוד פרץ ושלומי שבן

There’s actually a lot I want to tell, but I’m holding myself back, because it’s not time yet to tell. This music biz has a whole set of funky rules of it own, and I abide faithfully, while trying to mesh my own wayward ways into it ( when it’s not looking )

What in the oven? Two albums. The secret of which I’ll tell soon, in a few blogs from now, if you stay faithfully tuned, and patiently too.

Oh, and there’s that book I’m writing, that’s turning into something different than I had planned.

Oh, oh, and the Hebrew side of this site is being cooked these days by my two master web chefs, Yishay and Itay.

Lots of things coming.

Talk to you soon.

1. Yesterday I wrote 3 new songs. What am I gonna do with new songs?

2. Gotta get back to the LOVE UNPLUGGED recording, my 18 song double-album. I like the concept of a double album. I like double albums. People are gonna be less harsh on me, if I split the the shit, rather than print it all on a one cd. Yeah. Ari Burstein will sing on it too, do some guitar. I gotta add some harmonica and strings. Shoot. Lots of work.

3. Gotta start charting out the album after that, now called URGENT LIGHT. Like the songs. Looking for a cool producer though.

4. My secret project.

5. Another secret project.

Alright, here is the bridge part of THE KING IS BACK:

My baby underground, please come up to the light.
The king is coming, he’s looking for you.
He puts down his crown, letting down his gorgeous hair.
He’s taking out his shirt,
His sweat is shining, soft and fair.
I’m not sure if he’s a woman or a man,
if his eyes are brown or blue.
The light is blinding, but I can tell he’s looking for you.
Oh, babe, come up to the light,
I need you up here.
People are looking at me, the show must begin.
Come up to the light, show them you’re real and true.
They’re thinking I’m crazy,
making up stories about you.

Sorry I hurt you, but sometimes you need
to settle for the better hand and I
Had to unease you, don’t take it too hard, I had to be looking.
And there’s a wave that’s calling, playing me hard and loud,
Tossing me about, my heart keeps cracking, it keeps on breaking apart.

I see the rainbow, knocking at my window,
standing in the way of the dark.
Playing hard to get with my heart.

Walking in miracles, the arrows you poisoned were constantly missing my heart.
My river was flowing, and yesterdays’ grace was heavily hid in the dark.
A barefoot girl is walking, soaking wet dress, mud painted face, and a trace
Of long love-drunk nights, holding wounded visions & withered flowers in her hand.

After the dark storm comes the shattering calm.
Crispy bright light shines on;
it only cuts deeper in the sad eyes looking for home.
Everyone wears the skin that one bears, or else, trying to get by.
Cold bottled water, struggling accents and palaces cutting the sky.

Blind dating an audience ain’t easy. Worst case, you hope to part as friends. We started feeling each other carefully, the audience and I, hoping to fall in love but fearing bitter disappointment. We had about an hour and a half to learn each other’s secret hearts, neurosis, scars, inner lingo and all of that. Luckily we were digging each other right from the start. The BBC WORLD and the Romanian TV watching us at all times, I kind of tried to behave myself, be careful with my words, if not my thoughts. Luckily again, I couldn’t hold back all that much and it didn’t take too long before I was well into the better part of my lyrics which usually describes the better parts of life anyway.  Songs just flew through me. I did a cover of the King’s ÁLWAYS ON MY MIND and I kind of messed it up a bit, but the audience was so chill about it, and I had a total blast.  We has so much fun, I think the King himself would have liked it.

Wine is superb in Romania. And cheap. Couldn’t stop drinking. Even the white wine was delicious.

My band was cool too. My drummer had the whole rock-n-roll trip under his pants. He ended up with 5 sweet girls in his bed, all naked. He was the only one with jeans on. That’s my drummer. He’s got the strike and I got the mike. He’s got the drums, and I got the rhymes. And we try real hard to get along, and it’s lots of fun when we do. Those girls were real sweet. They had been to my concert in Cluj, and on a last moment’s grace decided to follow the concert all the way to Sibiu, where we played the next night.  They had a 6 am train back home, so my drummer had them stay with him for the night.

Most of the songs I did were from my next double album, LOVE UNPLUGGED. For some reason it seems like those songs cannot get off the road and into the recording studio. The recording I have still needs a lot of work, and some new verve of a soul in it. I’m gonna be back in the studio this month, hopefully, and add my shit (more harmonica, more strings, more soul) and see what happens then.

You don’t need my words here. Just get into it, it breaks a man to pieces, just to look at it.

Now you may dig my utmost affinity to this man, aye?

Here’s to Ryan Adams. Here’s to music.

Now you may dig my utmost affinity to this man, aye?

Here’s to Ryan Adams. Here’s to music.

Anyway, the album is coming out soon, a new cool video clip, a new single and new stories on the way, so stay tuned.

I appologize for not writing here for a while, but I’m back on the track.

Good night for now.

My albums of this month: Ryans Adams’ “29” and his “Jacksonville City Lights“. Also Dylan’s “Highway 62 Revisited“.

In the film department: the AMAZING rockumentary “DIG!” and “NO DIRECTION HOME“.

In the still photography departent: my babe, Noa Ben-Shalom, the mad photographer. She’s got a new site, and I gotta say, she’s one of the best action still photographer I know. Her magic eyes always made me look  beautiful when sort of least expected. Noa is the babe in the song “A Miracle at a Time” from my album “THE MOVE“. She always spreads her whole world on the floor. That’s how I met her some hearty years ago. Haven’t seen her for a while, but I heard she’s coming to Jerusalem this weekend. You can listen to this song on the MUSIC page.

This is loving you like no one else before, I mean, forget the tales, forget the magazines. I always loved the photographs of black-&-white in motion, I’d fix the rest in just a perfect place for me. There was a glorifying arrow notifying names and dates and passing faces all around the endless party. Yesterday the phone was mute, no one called to say hello, I thought I lost it all, I didn’t matter anymore.

Old school records playing new and breaking just in time to kiss you, softly spoken heart aches, easy breaking happiness. The show moved on, the buzz connecting with the flow, leaving hard core naked truth locked hard behind the doors. Little diamonds on the edges, walking up the aisle to greatness, shoes too tight and guts held-back to keep a perfect shape. I noticed eyes suspecting I was wrong, a big mistake, unfit, misplaced, too wordy, troubled and too old. What do you expect, there’s a voice that hangs around you everywhere you go and shouts: respect, respect

In my kingdom I will hold you on your falling
And in this falling I will take your hand and lead you through
And on your way your fall will turn to flying
Here’s my word to you.

It always amazes me how well timed things are in this great design of existense. You may get frustrated some of the time, but if you sweat and kick enough, reality always knows better. So now I’m pretty cool about all my kicking and sweating this year. My new album is (almost) ready to go, and the new site is up, just on time.

Bear with me a bit, I promise to write soon, and lots of news and details about some upcoming music, albums, video clips, people and shit.

Gotta run now, more music is waiting.Oh, and have a Happy New Year.

A slow, sweet September morning and plenty of dreams to do. The chiseled snaps of Bob Dylans’s mind are buzzing in the air, sort of decking my days with stars, dreams, passion, inspiration and faith.I think that a definite sense of an intense reality, whether it’s real or not, is the igniter of the song-writing faculties.

I’ve been working on two projects kind of simultaneously, and I love it. My double-album LOVE UNPLUGGED is basically almost ready to get mixed. Gotta re-do all the vocals, then add some seasoning, perk up the whole bunch and let it go. I’ve been letting it boil on its own for a while. Something I’m not used to do with my music. But it feels right this time. It’s the trombone album, in the sense that all the songs were written with the trombone in mind, and the trombone boy around, and it’s sort of wrapping the entire era, where everything felt new and exciting and VERY intensive for some two years.  It’s not simple, recording this intensity. I guess I needed to take a break from it before I final-mix it. I’m not used to taking a break from my songs before they’re actually released, pr and all. But I really like this new way of going about it all. I guess I am changing, and this change has opened up my heart to this new project.

The new project is of no name yet. It sweeps me into it like the sweetest love. Omri Levy is producing it. It’s getting me to write new songs everyday. I think this project kind of caught us both by surprise. One day we woke up and realized that we’re half way into completing this album, that we’re actually having fun, that we can’t wait to record another song, that we’re working faster than any of us thought we could, that we surprisingly agree most of the time, that Omri digs my love for this deep, chocolate Bass drum mixed with some home made strings orchestra, that we hadn’t plan on it, but we’re in love. And we just can’t get enough. Something like that. Friday Sessions would be a nice title for this album. We’re planning on hosting some friends on it too. Can’t wait.

Ok, let me tell you about the songs. And the people involved.

MY SECRET  ROAD – This song was originally called “The Night of The Singer-Songwriter” and had MANY words.  I wrote it in a swish. It was at a time when I felt I might have over-dosed, writing about my quirky love and age issues and all, and that things were alright out there, the revolution got it’s own way, and that I could very well pack up my music and issues and embark on a new career.  But then, a miserable slip of  a tongue of someone I knew, instantly reminded me that “war isn’t over and it ain’t gonna end”, and that there are many songs yet to be written till war is really over, on all fronts, and we can relax.

Anyway, Duncan thought it was a lousy title to a great song. He sent me to the computer, and within minutes I had a new, well shaven version of it, called: MY SECRET ROADS. It was the first song we did. Phill kept watching over us to keep them songs short. Johnny’s guitars and heart-felt notion of structure and lines, Mati’s drums and Kevin’s double bass all around me, I was bathing in true love. I couldn’t have asked for more. They were funny, and kind, and sweet and had the COOLEST, craziest accents. Duncan had the worst. He actually had to be translated to me. It went like this: Mati, originally Candian, translated Kevin. Kevin translated Johnny. And Johnny translated Duncan. Just imagine how long it takes a joke to get to me. And then they thought I was plain slow. Hmmm.  Anyway, accents never stood in the way of music. Or if they did, they probably made it better.

Btw, in concerts, I still do the long, piano driven, original version.

ALL I WANT was also fun to do. Duncan LOVED particularly the line “Time and again I wanted to kill you, time and again I wanted to please you”. He also dragged the last line to be the opening line as well. ’’I believe in love, just as long as LOVE believes in me’’. It felt like I had all the words, but I needed to rearrange them, and I tried re-locating words and breaking up whole sentences, trying to re-construct the song like a puzzle. I had all the pieces, just needed to find their perfect matchings, to get a clearer picture of the song. Oh, Johnny went wild on the guitars here. I just love the guy.

BREAK ME DOWN was well shortened as well. It lost a whole verse.  But what I really love is that we kept the ending. Which I think is the coolest part of the song. This song is the oldest of the songs, and pretty much kept its original shape.

RECORDING VOCALS was a trip. It was the first time anyone actually WORKED with me, and pretty toughly too. I loved it. Duncan was hearing stuff I couldn’t hear myself, and at one time he almost made me cry. But then he got me a bottle of wine, so I was alright. There was a beautiful snow blizzard out, and it was getting late. It was towards the end of my stay in Glasgow, and I was getting so sad to leave anxious to get it all done before I leave. We got it all down just on time. The back vocals on BREAK ME DOWN were recorded later, by Carol Lola.

And all of this wouldn’t have happened without my friends: David Kaye in Glasgow and Yaniv Davidson, in Israel. This EP is half yours. And it’s only the beginning.

We’re celebrating with a special concert, AT the ZAPPA CLUB, with my  Israeli band, Assaf, Assa, Daniel and AA Cool Schneider. Monday 25.7 at 21:30. Come and get drunk with us.

I haven’t slept for a few days. It’s been sucking my life, but in a real good way. The musicians on it, Assaf, Assa, AA Cool and Daniel have done an amazing job. The entire album feels more relaxed than ever before (Even Eldad, my man on THE MOVE, said that). The recording process was more relaxed than anything I had done before. The Move sprang out of me with a lot of battles and tribulations, but this one has sort of taken its natural time to happen. I mean, the musicians on it have been playing those songs with me on concerts for over a year, and the songs have penetrated their basic musical instincts. By the time we came to record them, it felt like second nature to us all. Assaf pushed me to do a live session, almost against my will, and so we did, a few months ago, at the ZAZA studios. I have to admit, I had my qualms about it all. I guess I was not in a great emotional shape those days, and there was too much sadness around. But I am so grateful for that session, so glad to have let Assaf pull me into it all. It was an intensive session of a few hours, piano, trombone, drums and guitars. I hurt my finger badly at one point, and had to play half that album with 9 fingers. I ended up at the emergency room, with excruciating pain, my finger palpitating like it had a heart of its own. It was a huge, pressing, painful call for me to take a break. I couldn’t even listen to the recording for a few months. I had to get away from it, and luckily, I had to deal with the promotion of THE MOVE, and I invested my soul in concerts.

Interestingly, now that I think of it, it gave me sometime to adjust Eran into my life. And to weave initial dreams about future productions.

A few months away from that initial live session, everything sounded so much better. My finger totally healed. I got some brand new cells and tissues on that finger, in addition to its independent heart, and I think it plays way better now. The piano actually sounded delicious on that recording. It’s the first album I play a real grand piano, and I love it. Nothing beats real good grand pianos. I guess I’m a piano girl after all.

Then came Daniel, the bass player. He was not as familiar with the material as the rest of us, but dived in pretty gracefully and humbly, and a few weeks ago he did the whole 18 of them new song, all in but a few hours. PERFECT sound.

Anyway, feeling so much better about these songs and recordings, Assa and I went back to the studio to add some guitars. Man, the man is a G. I mean, he can be weird sometimes, but he’s got soul there, and buckets of talent simmering throughout his lean and long body and fingers. He’s also so much fun to work with. Well, they were all fun to work with. I really had a blast with those guys. It was the first recording I never even freaked once. Not even when I hurt my finger.

Btw, Assa quit drinking, and I lost a party partner. Although I think that Assaf got a bit more into it recently.

Oh, I can’t wait for the album to be completed, mixeded and all. But I still have A LOT of work ahead of me. VOCALS are gonna be the toughest part.

Back to site: www.hadara.co.il

Regarding my own private ways in this world, musically and otherwise, I sometimes find myself isolated, thirsty for inspiration, lost in a kind of cultural desert, yearning for a touching spark. Ehud Manor has been, for me, one of the very few guardians of my cultural oasis. And the kindest of them all. He has given me the voice of Natalie Merchant, for example, and more personally, he was one of the first believers in my music, along with Kutner,  before most everyone else. Not only did he give me a safe home to sound my music, but he kept encouraging me through the years, with his kindest calls and remarks, and playful translations of a few of my lines. He had the wisest, kindest ways of conversing with me through his interpretations, over the radio and over the phone, offering his time and work and advice and sweet comforting word anytime I ever needed. Right at my musical beginning he offered to co-operate on future projects. There was no surer demonstration of faith than that. He made me feel like the greatest star, and he crowned me with his love. He truly had faith in me, even behind my back.

When I only began performing, about some 5 years ago, and was still a quiverous, albeit admittedly adamant performer, he came to my concert with part of his family, and listened with the widest heart and with genuine interest. Even his criticism was so simple and honest and loving, that it was instantly taken in, instantly taking action within me, instantly working. He came to me after the show, freckles and all, and gave me the biggest, safest hug you can imagine. It was easy, direct, and cozy.  I knew my songs were safe in his hands and soul.

Ehud truly understood my language, my inner tongue, my personal grammar. My jokes. He understood the cultural grounds of my English, not only the technical meaning. It ain’t easy to be an English singer-songwriter in Israel, especially when WORDS are the heart of them songs. You cannot dig the soul of a song, the humorous nuances, the various digressions of personal associations, with purely a basic understanding of the language.  You have to have some wider, deeper grasp of the language, the culture it springs from. And Ehud Manor, the lover of words, the Israeli great worder of our greatest songs and musicians, did indeed dig my music, inside and out. His musical and cultural sources were immense. And he was so youthfully passionate about every little thing. His first favorite of my songs was NYU, and so he called excited to tell me that his daughter had just graduated NYU. He was so personal a writer, that his work became very universal. He was so intimate an observer, that he owned that acute sensitivity to another’s very particular otherness. Which made him very tolerant of others, open minded, and also a great translator.

I’ll miss him desperately. And yes, ‘tis my little comfort too to know that he knew how much I loved and appreciated him and his work in this world. And that he was loved and respected by so many people in his life time.

Here’s to you, here’s to music.

Well, strange days. Nothing feels easy, but everything seems to fall right into place. I’m more silent than ever, these days (I know some of you wouldn’t believe it), kind of intro-pensive. I’ve absorbed the various reviews of The Move, the written, the verbal, and even the unspoken ones. I try to listen to them all. Mostly it’s very interesting to see how your music reaches the other. One of the best reviews I’ve had described my music as the best sound track for sex. Better still was the launching concert, where, I was told, a few couples (of various sexual preferences), so wholesomely swept by the music and vibe, were aroused into making it right there, by the club’s toilettes. Music gets you to high places, that’s for sure.

Anyway, this is one of these slow mornings, where I got zillions of things to do, but my soul screams for food, some inspiration and vitamins. And I got them right here;  Avigail Sperber ( a filmmaker) who has just reTurned from the Berlin Film Festival, and SAGOL 59 ( a rapper). They have both linked me up back to my soul, through two great links:

One is an amazing review of one of Ryan Adams’ songs from HEARTBREAKERS, by the fabulous writer Nick Hornby. Sayed Kashua, here’s my call for you, take my songs by their hands and lead them through the streets of your drunk pen.
http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/song/hornby.html

The other link is a site of the award winning film about
http://www.thedevilanddanieljohnston.com

Here’s a quote from Hornby’s review:

“Some people are at their best when they’re miserable. Ryan Adams’s beautiful Heartbreaker album is, I suspect, the product of a great deal of pain…On Adams’s next album, Gold, he seems to have cheered up, and though that’s good news for him, it’s bad news for me… His upbeat songs are fine, but they sound a lot like other people’s upbeat songs (you can hear the cheeriest incarnations of the Stones, Dylan and Van Morrison all over Gold); his blues gave him distinction.
“What rights do we have here? Are we entitled to ask other people to be unhappy for our benefit? After all, there are loads of us, and only one of them. And how can you be happy, really, if you are only ordinary in your happiness, but extraordinary in your grief? Is it really worth it? It sounds harsh, I know, but if you are currently romantically involved with someone with a real talent — especially a talent for songwriting — then do us all a favour and dump them. There might be a Heartbreaker — or a Blood On The Tracks or a Layla — in it for all of us. Thanks.”

Cheers!

1. Rap of Faith

“It started with an after noon vodka and a dream. You had no faith in me, you spoke about the girl who played a whole song on one string. Well, I got so many notes under my skin.”

RAP OF FAITH is a rap of faith in music. Faith in Me. In my way. It starts up with an episode I remember clearly, just when I was about to embark on my music career. Then it goes on to explore some of the tender, vulnerable relationships amongst, oh well, lovers, musicians, anyone really. Of course, it all starts with one love and ends up with another.

2. Break Me Down

Love like that. He preferred European films, and I preferred Hollywood. But he always ended up coming to all my concerts. And now he’s doing his great music in Hollywood. And it’s fun having him play in my concerts too.

3. Blue Eyed Shadow

Better known as “I just wanna get laid tonight”. What can I say, love takes on a whole different look, when you’re doing music. This guy whom I loved came secretly to one of my concerts. I spotted him instantly. He appeared in the back, a shadow merged in the dark bulk of the audience, except for his clearly sparkling, recognizable blue eyes.

“You look like a top model”, I was thinking, “ and I’m just a working class hero with something to say”. I always feel my love is so misunderstood. Nothing ever beats music for me. Zappa put it perfectly: Love is not music. Music is the best. “So when I tell you that I love you, please don’t get me wrong, my music gets to choose my top ten pleasures of this world.”

4. Brooklyn Beat

That friend from song # 2, and also the one from WHAT THE FUCK,  and from many other songs, is a great singer\song writer. “There ain’t a song that gets as real as lovers racing down a record deal”. We’re definitely racing each other and he’s a great racer too.

5. The Move

Falling in love with a DJ can be SO romantic. I cannot disclose any more details. But the answers to all questions are in the song.

6. Sexual Underground

One of my favourite trombone songs. Before AA Cool came into my life, this song was a solo-piano. This is one of the first songs we played together, and where he became my musical soul mate. There’s something about AA Cool’s trombone that deeply digs the heart of my songs and responds PERFECTLY to it.

7. Music Makes No Sense

This is THE BEST version of this song so far, and the guitars of Uri Kinorot make the whole difference. I wrote this song in a moment of deep confusion, and I was holding on to music like never before, and it saved my ass, mentally, that is. Like I said, “music makes no sense, but it takes you somewhere where there’s life and love and inner jive and groove, my friend”.

8. Hot Stuff

Oh, that song is breaking my heart. “Don’t you know already, it’s a-messing with the real, that gets a deal, and all the rest falls on the way. Perhaps another chance we take, risking everything we have,getting closer to the edge, is living”. Yeah. It’s about taking REAL chances, living on the edge, and making something great out of your life. I mean, I cannot settle for less.

9. All I WANT

This song is about putting my soul on the line, in LOVE and in MY SONGS. Once again, I wouldn’t settle for less, in love or music. Yet: “ I believe in LOVE, just as long as LOVE believes in me”

10. R& B

Someone really broke my trust, left me in the cold, on the road, like a dog, all alone. But I knew:
“You gotta let it be born
Gotta MOVE it on and on.
Gotta let yourself free.
Gotta know who you ARE and BE.”

11. White Skin Bound

My first attempt at soft-rap. The lyrics will be attached separately. So many lovers have been compressed into that song, but my music, as always, takes them all.

12. Falling in Love

The best part of any relationship is the FALLING IN LOVE part of it. That oh so furtive bliss. I can’t stand it.

13. Magic Time

“No shit can pull me down.  You’re getting nowhere loving underground”. You know, when you’re in a kind of a secret or somewhat forbidden affair, and you want to break loose, and you’re willing to pay the price?

14. It ain’t Good Enough

You know it’s lonely at the top, but you want to get there anyway. You want to look at the world from the cover of a weekend magazine. You know that people always look better on the Cover than on the Middle page. And you never look back. Sometimes you just feel that nothing, not even the best love in the world, will wvwer be good enough for you.

15. A miracle at a time

Woa, that was a great spring. I fell in love with someone so TOTALLY different than me. No one gave us a chance. I’m not sure we ever did give ourselves a chance. But we enjoyed the short time we had and took our days ONE MIRACLE AT A TIME. It gave me a lot of strength and faith in my way, and inspired a few songs. I’m still taking life this way, one miracle at a time.

16. Your Smile

The sad side of the above mentioned miracle.

17. Schoziphrenia. (To produce your own album)

This song completes the heart of this album. I wrote this song the night before I started recording this album. There were a lot of nasty wars in my life those days, and I realized I was going to produce this album alone, musically, and that I needed all the strength I can get. I had a lot of sweet, inspiring and humorous rage that kept a lot of sadness away. I needed so much strength that there was no place for sadness. I kept asking myself, “do you believe that one more song will bring you back home?” I think it’s a love song to myself, and to this art of song making. It’s really perfect way to seal this album. I have a well-produced version of this song, produced by Itamar Eshpar, but I decided to use this very naked version, with piano only. And here’s the thing:
“If this music pleases you at all, my land of milk and honey,
I want to feel your love, I want to see the money.”

Here’s a quote:

“I wanted to play for anybody. I could never sit in a room and just play all by myself. I needed to play for people and all the time. You can say I practiced in public and my whole life was becoming what I practiced.” (Bob Dylan)

And another one:

“I’d either drive people away, or they’d come closer to see what it was all about. There were a lot of better singers and better musicians around these places but there wasn’t anybody close in nature to what I was doing. Folk songs were the way I explored the universe…” (Bob Dylan)

You keep on calling me all that late at night.
I really don’t know what’s on you mind. I just want to get laid, kinda sweet and safe, by your side.
But you’re beating around with your new music collection.
There’s something about your late night voice
that doesn’t feel right. I’m scared to be wondering aloud,
do you love me, do you love me not. I’m letting you talk.
You get scared and annoyed.
I’m moving my Dylan around,
getting sick of my voice.
You’re playing awful hard-to-get with my words.
I just gotta get laid tonight.

You remember everything about last night, I kinda like it.
You didn’t like Hedwig, you didn’t get me at all.
I realize how far you can go,
20 years get in the way of getting laid,
washed in mad music, tripping ahead.
Dylan, Bright Eyes, Beck, Ryan Adams, Pete Yorn
and a Badly Drawn Boy.
I wonder what really went wrong on your zone
that you sound so alone at your home.
You’ve been tracking down songs, smiling away,
with just the wrong accent on the wrong face, on the wrong day.
I just wanna get laid tonight.

I know just what you’re thinking. I’m thinking just the same.
Got some problems saying what I want at your face,
but I’m working on it. I’m taking some French.
I manage an army of hi-tech boom-brains, and I’m doing allright.
You got a great voice, dancing there all on your own. Kinda cool. Everyone’s getting married, hard-core famous, music biz faces,
great shiny places and all. What a great show and a perfect day.
You look like a top-model.
I’m just a working class hero with something to say. Well, don’t block the way of your bright shining spark.
Trust me when I tell you that I love you so hard.
Ooh, but I don’t. I get scared.
Morning breaks and I’m kinda running away.
Out of your quiet peace of town, right down my little piece of hell. Back in the city where no one can tell, right from wrong,
natural shine from intangible gel.
I’m doing what I want, acting what I am.
And no one ever really messes up with my name.
If I tell you I love you, please don’t get me wrong.
My music gets to choose my top-ten pleasures of this world.

All right. It’s been too long, since I last weblogged my life, but it is all for great reasons. I’ve been busy to my brims with, well, music. The first single from The Move is coming up soon, and there’s a lot of preparation around it. Also I’ve been deep into getting my current concert songs recorded. There are a bunch of them, some 40 new songs, that I really like. It ain’t no small thing, getting them all recorded so I can capture their true current vibe. Some months ago, I recorded the guide for a few of those songs. But I’m thinking of getting into the studio soon, and getting a live recording of those songs, with Assaf on drums, Assa on guitars and AA Cool with his FAB trombone soul. Then, as some of you know, I recorded my last concert at Club Hed and I’ll be recording the next two concerts over there. All and all I should have enough to choose from, for my next LIVE album. But it’s been wracking my nerves.

WHERE WAS MY WEBMASTER

Notice the addition to the GALLERY Page, there’s a whole gust of memories from Glasgow and Vienna. Music gets you to the best places in the world, to the best hearts, the best people. Well, most of the time, anyway.

MY VERY FIRST SONG

My cool Webmaster has been insisting on putting Lech Lishon on the site. Since I owe him one big time, the song is on the EXTRAS PAGE, for free download or just to listen to. Lech Lishon is the first recorded song I have ever written, some time around the end of 99. And I had rarely ever sung it again till recently. When it was written, it felt like a sort of a hymn I sang to myself when I felt weak, or particularly sad, or when my dreams and passions felt way too heavy to become real, and I knew I wasn’t ever gonna give them up. The thing with this first song is that it sort of kept its promise. I mean, it did have a bespelling effect on my dreams and passions. Or at least on the way I went about them. One more thing: when I wrote the song, I wasn’t totally aware I was actually writing a song. It was a sec before I actually became a singer songwriter, and I was feebly, fearfully touching the piano. And this tune came out. I was playing it to myself entranced, behind closed doors. Literally. As it were, my friend David Sky happened to come by, and he heard the tune from the outside, and he sort of hung on awhile behind the door before actually knocking. It was the first time he heard me playing, and he loved the tune. He groped for some Hebrew lyrics I had written, that were scattered on my kitchen counter, and handed them to me. Here, he said, why don’t you try putting these to your melody. And I did, quiverously. And as I was singing my very first song,  I was mesmerized and totally swept by the magical notion of actually becoming a musician, right there and then. Less than a few days later I was on stage, loaded with many more new songs. My first time on stage was recorded, per chance, by someone in the audience. And this is it, my very first song in my very first live performance, in its very first recorded version. That’s the way I used to sound.

HERE’S TO THE GOOD GUYS

Yesterday I ordered a load of books. The Chronicles by Bob Dylan and a bunch of Charles Bukowski. Can’t wait for those guys to land at my doorstep. In the meantime, I’ve been listening to Ohia. Here’s to you, great guys.

According to Rod Stuart, the first cut is the deepest. According to me, the first fight is the coolest. I really have a thing for lovers’ fights. It’s sexy, healthy and it tells a lot about the people involved. My WHAT THE FUCK song (from the album King O) is one hell of a sweet fight I had with my worst best friend, David Sky. It’s an almost word-by-word transcript of one of our quintessential fights. Listening back to it (with music and all), I think we were excellent fighters. Yeah, we had some delicious battles, and they inspired a lot of my songs. It’s been a while since I had a hearty, love-drenched fight with anyone. Two nights ago, a day after my Jerusalem concert at the Syndrome, I finally had my first fight with that Handsome Boy. It was absolutely delicious and had all the right ingredients.

OK, fights aren’t all that handsome, but if you’re good at them, they may get you horny, and you can turn them into great songs. Here’s the deal: you gotta care enough, yet be selfish enough to enjoy these battles. Better yet, you gotta be fucked up enough to make a mental note of every detail involved, just that you can write a smash hit about them the next day.

Fights can be so fucking sexy. I mean, the vibe, the set up, the intensity, the flashes that occur in your mind while at it, the hard core crying, the tears shed, salty and sparkling in the dark, the heart ache, the manic phobias that storm in the heart, the excitement, the wild insults and cursing, the shutting in, the opening up. The fear to lose the battle, to lose yourself, to lose your friend, to lose whatever little or much you’ve had. It’s a kind of a dance. It’s really a great drama. If you know your art of lovers’ fight, if both sides are full heartedly into it, but playful enough to master it, if you dare risking and twisting and putting your soul on the line, babes, then you’re up for a great song.

Now, a real good fight can be exhausting, but I think it refines and enhances whatever kind of love you got going there. Of course, there’s the make up sex too.  Ain’t nuthin’ like it yet. Although, personally, I like the song better.

Here’s a song, then. “ALL I WANT”,
from THE MOVE and the Glasgow sessions  EP “ALL I WANT”

I guess I really did mess up just everything we had. I guess we really had to take it as long as we had. But I think it’s going all right now, if you just let me be. You make me feel so endless. Time & again I wanted to kill you. Time again I wanted to please you.

I know that when you were looking, I was never around. You probably won’t trust it, but I was out of my mind. You must have known me forever, to let me in your heart. See I’ve changed, now you found me, I’m doing something right.

I’m putting myself on the line here, drawing the sketch of my soul, and I’m letting you know what I know. I’m risking, sort of twisting, sort of letting it go, and I hope it will flow, like a ball of snow.

In the great sun that splits me warm, after the war, you gave me my music, and I gave it my soul. See I believe in Love, just as long as Love believes in Me

Woa, this last one has been one of those weeks, you know, when everything is bespelling you out of your ordinary (hmmmm) wits. Too many things are piling up to deal with, and all I can think about is that Handsome Boy, and how far will we go.

Going too far is scary. And I gotta thank some sweet people, for letting me go too far with them. It can be real embarrassing, sometimes. There are only special kinds of people who can bear your too far actions, thoughts, words, dreams, intimacy whatever and all. Going too far is often about crossing lines, of various sorts, and I’m so good at it. I like crossing lines, and I like going too far with things. When I come to think of it, most of my songs are about crossing lines of sorts. “ I Met a Nice Lady”, “Tears of a Rock Star”, “I’m Not Tempted”, “The Move” are the obvious crossing, but I think my whole life is about going far and crossing lines. It’s the fuel of my life and the heart of my work.

Ok, back to that Handsome Boy. Last night a friend asked me about my weblog, and why am I not storming it with some juicy thoughts. I realized it hasn’t been easy filling up those pages, not as easy as I expected. My songs being my ultimate diary, I kinda panicked that if I channeled all that energy into those pages, there would have been nothing left for the songs. And that would be the end of me. Now what does that have to do with the Handsome Boy? Nothing, I guess. Except that he manages to creep into everything I do.

OK, truth is, I’d love to tell you about that Handsome Boy, but I’m gonna keep up all that magic for the songs, and all that energy, for the concerts.

Just for the records, though, we’ve gone pretty far.
And we haven’t even fought once. Yet.

Oh, here’s a song:

I LOVE YOU MORE THAN ROCK & ROLL

Baby’s got another. As he opens up the door,
he says he likes no other,
and he breaks down on my floor
I would have let him go,
If he would leave my heart alone,
But in the middle of the day he turns me on

Baby’s got some heavy history hanging on his accent.
He soaks it in an early morning vodka,
and he packs it and he sells it.
He’s got a pretty woman and a pretty child
gracing up his home,
But in the middle of a show he turns me on

Baby’s got the biggest smile of light I’ve ever seen,
But all he wants is pretty boys to bang behind the scene.
And as he holds my hand, I ask if he would change
his love zone.
In the middle of the night he turns me on

Baby knows to slide in style
as he paves the air across the bar.
He’s loaded up with ready looks,
he makes his way, he’s sitting by.
He measures up my lines and aches
and makes his mind up not to take.
In the middle of the cold he turns me on.

Baby walks in beauty as he gets upon the stage.
With his golden brass he paints
the angels of this earth
He’s got the move, he’s got the soul
And I love him more than rock & roll
In the middle of a song he turns me on

And some times love comes after all.
You know it’s been beating down your soul.
And when you open up your heart to dance,
You’ll always get another chance.
And stories will flow on forever.
And everything about you feels a little better.
And none of this would even matter,
‘cause you’ll be riding on the wings of love

Thank God for the man
who’s girlfriend fucked him up,
stole all his records
and screwed all his friends
(behind his back)
who are full of shit anyway.

This is not going anywhere. I was going to write about the concert last night, but I cannot word it out. That precious but all too evasive sensation of one of the weirder concerts I’ve had. Sometimes sleeping over a dramatic experience is more digestive than verbalizing your sensation scene by scene, or emotion by emotion. You let the experience flood your senses gently, while your sub-conscious do the tough work of dissecting your subterranean personality. You wake up all bright and shiny, and your work is done.
But I can’t sleep.
Well, it was a tough concert, the sound on stage was bad, and I couldn’t get the army of my chemicals into balance. I was either on the verge of breaking into tears or losing myself a bit too much into the songs, or losing myself altogether. I had a clear vision of the audience, the crisp attention, the expectation. I saw them watching me wriggle in my insides, slow-motion, with interruptive frozen frames of my particularly troubled moments. I cracked. It was intense. Thanks to my efficient instincts, I didn’t go as far as emotional pornography. I caught myself in time, and the last part of the concert felt better to me.
Ryan Adam’s song sort of saved me. Sometimes I need to get out of my world into someone else’s. It relaxes me. For a sec there I was tripping over HIS fuck-ups, rather than mine. Thank God for the man who’s girlfriend fucked him up behind his back, stole all his records and screwed all his friends who are full of shit anyway. I mean, once you do a Ryan Adams, you can get back to your own song, and feel good about your own shit, its poetics and humor.

Oh, my handsome audience! Thank you for letting me be!

The last time I did this sort of unplugged, intimate concert, was about two years ago, at Balance Record store. It takes a babe of a place to provide the right emotional and musical set-up for these sort of rare events. Balance Records was such a place, two years ago, and The MZ is such a new, albeit temporary babe, founded by cool babes of 17 (Itamar and Ilan) with a little help from some friends. Those guys just finished high school and had two free months in their hands before they get drafted. Two months to suck the juice of youthly freedom. They used up their savings to rent a run down studio apartment and filled it up with some second hand furniture. They purchased a basic PA system, got some beers in the fridge, brought on their friends and music, invited musicians to give low priced concerts, and turned this place into the coolest gem in town, where artists can meet their audience, share some beer and songs and sparkle the Jerusalemite nights with a bit of magic mixed with vision. And the thing is, it really works. You gotta see these guys, they’re the greatest (good looking too). They’re happy do-ers in a heavy-hearted, tired, old and way too holy city.

It was a sort of an underground concert. I had a blast. The audience was AMAZING. The place was buzzing with the verve of good looking, youthful and restlessly creative people, of various vibes and ages. It was one of those rare, intimate, uniquely up-lifting concerts for me. I also happened to lose my voice almost entirely, so the whole thing took on this cozy home feel. I had some tea and my bottle of wine on my side. Assaf played a minimal drum set and Assa blasted his fabulous acoustic guitar. It was a great opportunity to try out some new songs and improvise on the instrumentals. We had so much fun.

Here’s a new song I had written a few hours before the concert,
and played it last night for the first time:

I STILL GET JEALOUS

I’m in the mood, I’m in the groove, I’m in the move
for love, my mind is burning.
As soon as I got close to you, you turned around
& said you won’t be calling.
I sounded crazy, I just love the way you call me,
oh pretty baby.
I used to be your number one, but I was dropping fast
to number Fucking-Maybe.
And dig this too, ain’t nothing here
that’s really over you. Over you.
I still get jealous when a girl is hanging
round your skies in blue.
I want to see this Ryan Adams show
and get real wasted (over you).
With bits of fat and lips and smile and brain
and all your funny faces (too)
And how about me actually becoming a musician.
Starring at my own bewildered dreams
became my holy mission.
And dig this too, ain’t nothing here
that’s really over you. Over you.
I still get jealous when a girl is hanging
round your skies in blue.
Now who’s that pretty girl, how old, how cold,
how under-paid, or laid, who is she.
You know tomorrow’s no one’s land,
I wish today could bring it all so easy.
And just one more before you go,
another radio station called me.
They said they loved my latest song
with you, so solid, sharp and horny.
And dig this too, ain’t nothing here
that’s really over you. Over you.
I still get jealous when a girl is hanging
round your skies in blue.

I was hooked on Eldad to mix my tracks at first sight. He was a choice of my guts. We had met a couple of times for listening sessions, checking out our tastes, vibes and chemistry. He’s an amazing musician, and a very intelligent person, but I was looking for someone I could LIVE WITH musically and emotionally for the duration of the mixing. And I’m so glad I followed my heart. He was perfect for this album. Music is really magic, and although it often makes no sense, it gets you somewhere, where there’s love and life and inner groove and jive and friends. And many cool surprises on the way.

The musicians playing on my tracks are Assaf Kraus (drums), Guy Adrian ( bass) AA Cool ( trombone), Uri Brauner Kinorot (guitars, pedal steel, saxophone), Peter Roth (guitars), Eldad Guetta (practically everything, computer designed sounds, bass, keyboards) and myself on the keyboard. I’m so gratefull to all of them, each in a different way. They have done an amazing work. Can’t wait for you all to hear it too.

By the way, that night, after the concert, I threw up my guts at the back entrance to the club. I was in no shape to ride back home. The club owner and his pregnant wife were so gracious, they had me sleeping over at their place. We all agreed, it’s rock and roll, and all is fair in rock and roll. Yeah right! Anyway, it’s an opportunity to thank those people majorly. Itay and now extended family, of Martef 10, and Yishai Avior, my web siter,  the man on the train.