Perfection at the Port: Idan Raichel in Tel Aviv, 12/18/2013

So, I went to see the Idan Raichel Project show last Wednesday night at the Tel Aviv Port.

And yes, I had my “Winter” Backstage moment.  You’ll just have to wait till the end to read about it 🙂 .

First, I hope it won’t surprise you to hear that Wednesday’s performance was spectacular, musically and visually.  Songs from the group’s newest “Quarter to Six” album were expertly interspersed between classic favorites, allowing audience members to learn and relish the younger material, while still taking balanced comfort in numbers – like “Mima’amakim” – that are as familiar by now as a lullaby.  Some of the older songs, too, were tastefully modified, so that even if you (like me) have heard one song a thousand times, the live version causes you (like me) to enjoy it and be wowed anew.  The show highlighted beautifully the group’s ability to infuse old material with fresh, invigorating light.

One particularly noteworthy example of the team’s creativity in this regard emerged on Wednesday evening.  After a whirlwind of tracks, the stage cleared, leaving only Raichel by the piano.  He performed beautiful and stripped-down versions of the classic ballads “Im Telech” and “Medabrim Besheket,” and then called singer Ilan Damti to the stage.  Idan told the room how Damti came to be with the Project (he had worked in lighting before singing on the group’s second and third albums, and later agreed to perform in the live show), and explained that Damti grew up in a house with deaf parents.  In a passionate rendition of “Mikol Ha’ahavot,” Raichel sang the words and played the piano while Damti conveyed the lyrics to the audience in sign language.  Though I’ve listened to the song for years (it was one of my early favorites), this performance of “Mikol Ha’ahavot” was truly unique.  I was blown away by its simultaneous depth and simplicity.

On the visual side, the thoughtfulness of the pictures, videos and 3D images that were projected on the screen behind the musicians at Wednesday’s show was truly impressive.  Not only were they aesthetically stunning (really!), but they lent added layers of meaning to many of the songs being performed by the artists downstage.  The effect was especially strong during Maya Avraham’s performance of “Min Nhar Li Mshiti (Ya Mama),” “From the Day You Left.”  The song’s lyrics are a person’s pained words to a mother who’s gone and deeply missed, and Maya’s rendition communicated the Arabic to the audience in a breathtaking, heart-wrenching plea.  During her performance, pictures of women and motherhood were shown on the background screen – an old woman’s hands, her lips, a mother and child – and they fit song and singer perfectly: Maya, mother of three, was performing on Wednesday while expecting her next child in the coming few weeks.

In one of many musical treats – which included an excellent guest performance by Shai Tzabari of the Project’s track, “Bekarov” – the one and only Avi Wassa made his signature surprise entrance, thrilling the crowd with his talented, dynamic presence (he did a similar thing at show I blogged about last October 🙂 ).  Just when it looked as though all performers were onstage and that the show had settled into its groove, Wassa entered from stage left, walked to the center and broke out into the emotional introduction of “Mima’amakim,” utterly delighting the unsuspecting audience with a taste of his beautiful Amharic.  (I’ve been hooked on Wassa’s raw, passionate vocals ever since he sang this same snippet for a small group – including one incredibly lucky intern – in a cozy rehearsal studio in Tel Aviv before the first Open Door concert with India.Arie.  You can read about that moment of bliss right here.)

Helplessly weak-kneed for languages, I was thrilled when the Project performed one of my favorite tracks off the new “Quarter to Six” album, an amazing combination of Hebrew and Portuguese called “Sabe Deus.”  I can’t ever get enough of the IRP’s multilingual numbers, always awed as I am by the smooth transitions from one language to the next, and the music’s constant ability to convey meanings that somehow transcend the necessity for total translation.  On Wednesday, I relished the layers of languages in this new song: Idan and Maya sang the Hebrew intro and outtro of “Sabe Deus,” while Kabra and – in a pleasant surprise – Joca, the Brazilian percussionist, performed the Portuguese verses in between.  It’s this true multiculturalism that sets the Idan Raichel Project apart from other world music groups.  In the most literal sense, they embody dozens of world cultures in a single album, on a single stage.

In short, the concert was Wonderful, with a capital W.  And though, by the time it ended, I had to catch the last bus to Jerusalem in less than twenty-five minutes, I knew that I could not, in any-way-shape-or-form, leave the Tel Aviv Port without saying goodbye to the team.  I had a happy word with Gilad Shmueli, drummer extraordinaire and co-producer on many of the Project’s albums, and then Noam, the Project’s friendly new manager, brought me backstage.  I wished Idan a “Mazal Tov” on his new baby daughter, marveled (privately) at the former rasta-man’s new ‘do, and snapped a photo (see below).  I’d have loved to have shmoozed backstage for just a few minutes longer, but the fact was that I had less than twenty minutes now to catch my bus back to Jerusalem.  The subsequent fact that I actually made it onto said bus in time was a most unlikely miracle that I’m glad in retrospect not to have tested.  I don’t know who/what deserves the thank-you for that feat of time-stoppage: the expert driving maneuvers of my Israeli cab driver, or the magic of the evening 🙂

(To Tel Aviv and) Back Again

Photo Credit: Jonathan Hirsch

Somehow, some inexplicable how, last Saturday night was the first time I’d seen the Idan Raichel Project’s live show in Israel—from a normal (albeit awesome) seat in the audience.

Just for a little reminder, this blog has reported on several IRP shows from backstage (all in the summer of 2011), as well as on Idan Raichel’s and India.Arie’s first Open Door concert together in Tel Aviv back in June of last year.  (That was a show and an experience that I will never forget, and neither should you.)   A few months later, while finishing my last two semesters at Brandeis University, I saw—from “frontstage,” if you will—two more of Raichel’s collaborative shows on their U.S. tours: Open Door for a second time, and Idan’s project with Malian guitarist Vieux Farka Touré, the largely improvised and wholly excellent “Tel Aviv Session.”  Thinking back on it, the last—and, in fact, the first—time that I’d attended an Idan Raichel Project concert as an audience member before last Saturday was in May of 2010, at the Israel Day festivities at Philadelphia’s Penn’s Landing.  At that time, I only knew a spare few of the Project’s songs; a shocking confession, I know.  I was too afraid to go down to the front of the stage to dance with the crazy fans, though eventually I did woman up and go for it (if you can’t beat them, join them).  After that show, I waited at the backstage door for a picture with Idan and the others, whose names I did not yet know.  I went home awestruck, starstruck, music-struck—never imagining for a moment that one year later I’d be interning with the very people I was speechless at the thought of speaking with, nor that the next time I saw the show as the show was meant to be seen, and that in Israel (you might say, then, the first time that I really, really saw the show), I’d be able to walk backstage, say a quick, casual hello/goodbye to Idan Raichel himself, be introduced to his parents by name (they were at Saturday’s show, too!), and take my leave with a hug and a thanks for another great performance.  Never.  Would.  Have.  Dreamed.

Saturday night felt like coming home.  While I absolutely loved the collaborative performances that I’ve written about since June 2011—the beautiful melodies, the cultural blends, the lyrics, the languages, the talent, the passion, the singular experimentation that is only Raichel’s—there simply exists nothing quite like the Idan Raichel Project.  It’s at once a well-oiled, precise machine, built to awe and to entertain unfailingly, and at the same time an ever-evolving, culturally, musically and linguistically ground-breaking phenomenon of music that speaks to you (or to me, at least) in a different way each time you hear it.  And that’s not just because of the many languages.  New melodies hit your eardrum, new emphases of seemingly minor words shed light on deeper meaning.  Songs are stripped to their core in raw performances of one, two, three musicians out of the dozen that are present, bringing tears to your eyes as you realize that, yes, this is how the song should sound, always.  You may know every word to every number, may have successfully memorized every discernible vocal harmony when you bought the group’s CD a few years back.  But you’d be wrong, grievously mistaken, to think that any of that matters when you are sitting in your seat at the Idan Raichel Project’s live performance in Pick-Your-City.  Even for the most avid fans, each performance feels like a new beginning.  Trust me.  I’m a most avid fan.

The show in Tel Aviv was the biggest I’ve seen.  Ten musicians stood on at first, the stage dark but for beams of white, smoky light that shone behind them: two drummers, four horn players, one guitarist, one bassist, one wind musician, one man on Middle Eastern strings.  Three singers—Maya Avraham, Cabra Kassai and Ravid Kahalani—walked to the center of the stage next.  Idan, of course, was last.  Always the subtle power directing the event, he took his usual place at the piano to the side of everyone else.  While the Project is called by his name, I have never once seen a show (from backstage or front) in which Idan Raichel takes the spotlight that one would assume would be due to him.  Each time I see the positions of the artists on stage—decidedly un-Idancentric—and hear how few of the Project’s songs are sung by Idan himself, I am newly convinced that Raichel performs and records simply because he loves creating music.  The fact that there isn’t an empty seat left at the Tel Aviv Opera House where he’s playing one night in late September is just a rather fortunate perk.

But back to numbers: As if fourteen artists on a single stage weren’t enough, for song numero cuatro, Avi Wassa joined the ensemble from backstage to sing—with all of the heartfelt Amharic that I’ve learned to expect from him—“הנך יפה.”  The rest of the night truly was a game of numbers: After filling the stage with 14-15 performers for several songs, the crowd cleared to leave Idan and Toar (trumpet) to play a stripped down version of “מדברים בשקט.”  Sung originally by a female vocalist, the song’s sadness was somehow felt just as strongly—if not more so—on Saturday night when performed with the soft, quiet voice of Idan, accompanied by a simple piano and the raw cry of a lone trumpet.  “Once we would talk slowly / We would talk quietly / Would speak little / You would look at me in the eyes when I spoke with you.”

Performing over twenty songs (a gloriously endless set-list) and a three song encore (yes, my friends, three), each piece was performed with infinite emotion and energy.  Even when Idan was sitting on his piano stool to play a song, he was never really sitting on his piano stool; and even the songs that were in languages that I don’t typically (or ever) understand managed to speak to me—and, quite apparently, to everyone else, too.  From this last category, one of my favorites on Saturday night was “Ya Mama,” or “Min Nhar Li Mshiti,” a song written by Shimon Buskila for his late mother, and performed in the live show by Maya Avraham in Moroccan Arabic.  Idan played accordion for this slow ballad, the instrument that first brought him to the world of music.

(A note about languages: As Idan commented between pieces, Cabra Kassai apparently speaks five of them.  Clearly I have some catching up to do.)

(A note about the encore: Seemingly at a loss for words—due to exhaustion or excitement, we will never know—Idan returned to the stage at the demand of the crowd, sat at his piano, leaned into the mic and said to the excited crowd: “Eh.”  Then, he tried again, this time with an explanatory hand motion: “Eh…”  One more “eh” and no discernible words later, he gave up on his attempted introduction and simply called Gilad Shmueli (drummer extraordinaire) and Yankale Segal (strings—and no less extraordinary) to join him for a beautiful rendition of Rita’s “מחכה”.  As if I was in any state of doubt before, after the second “eh” I knew that I was definitely, definitely watching this show in Israel.)

Hear it from me one more time: there is nothing—n-o-t-h-i-n-g—like the Idan Raichel Project.  Never will you find a group as rich in cultural diversity and raw talent as this one, with a presence that never ceases to amaze for its sheer greatness and grace.  Every show is unique, even the most well-known songs made somehow new again, the stage a never-ending source of movement, energy, light and—of course—music.  Beautiful, beautiful music.  If you haven’t seen the show yet, you should come with me next time.  I may even be able to take you backstage afterwards to congratulate Idan and the rest in person on a job well done… 🙂

Until then…

Photo Credit: Jonathan Hirsch

The Touré-Raichel Collective: Filling Boston with Feeling

The things I’ll do to see one of Idan’s shows.  Now included on this ever-lengthening list: wake up at 5:30am to catch a bus from Philadelphia to Boston in time for the curtain call (shower first) at the Somerville Theater.  Was it worth it, you ask?  I ask you in return: Do birds have wings?  Are there fish in the sea?  It is always (always!) worth it.

Ever the musical innovator, Idan has teamed up with Malian guitarist Vieux Farka Touré in yet another epic cross-cultural collaboration.  Together they are the Touré-Raichel Collective, touring to promote their new album, “The Tel Aviv Session”—a self-proclaimed spontaneous jam session between Raichel, Touré, Yossi Fine and Souleymane Kane, recorded and now available for your listening pleasure here.  All but one of the original jammers are on the Touré-Raichel tour: Israeli bassist and vocalist Amit Carmeli performs the live show instead of Yossi Fine.  But don’t worry, Carmeli is—?איך אומרים—awesome.

Like “The Tel Aviv Session” itself, much of Sunday’s concert was improvised.  It was a show less about scripted performance than about that indescribable, spontaneous moment when four people’s musical spirits collide and form a new, exciting collage of sound.  The atmosphere in the theater was comfortable, relaxed; as Idan told the audience, we were essentially witnessing another jam session in their living room.  The music appeared to flow directly from the heart.

Amateur guitarist that I am, I was utterly wowed by Touré’s playing.  I’ve never seen anyone move over the fret board as quickly and effortlessly as he did.  Alternating between soft, background finger-picking and complicated solos, there was never a dull moment in his performance.

Touré’s bandmate Souleymane Kane was on the calabash—a round drum resembling a large, upside-down bowl that he held between his legs while sitting on the floor.  Looking thoroughly happy to be on stage—his mere, smiling presence was enough to make everyone grin—he used both drumsticks and the heels of his hands to hit the drum, creating complex rhythms with the deceptively simple instrument.

As promised, Amit Carmeli was something else.  Proving himself to be an incredible bass player, his pure, emotional vocal performance further captivated the audience.  When he began to sing, the whole room leaned forward to listen, mesmerized.  In a beautiful, raw voice, with vocal runs that rang of the Middle East, Carmeli sang pure feeling.

And Idan?  Idan played as though there were no audience or boundaries in that moment (which moment? Every moment. Silly question) that could hold back his creative energy or his desire to experiment.  The melodies he produced appeared to come out of his entire being, each sequence the result of a spontaneous emotion that had to be expressed.  Using the entire piano—keys, strings and music stand, later to be joined by a piece of paper—to produce an inventive array of sounds, Idan’s performance was heartfelt and unforgettable.

Together, the four had an inspiring energy.  Proving the old adage that music is a universal language, Raichel’s and Touré’s instruments often engaged in a type of musical conversation, sometimes dueling playfully, while at others matching each others’ melodies.  With a mere glance or nod of a head, the group would yield seamlessly to one musician to play a solo in the spotlight; with another, almost imperceptible signal, a largely improvised song would come to a clean close.

The encore was the icing on the cake for fans of Idan’s primary group, the Idan Raichel Project.  Returning to the stage after a short, applause-filled absence, the Touré-Raichel Collective played “Bo’ee,” the first single off of the Idan Raichel Project’s first album in 2002.   An old song played with a distinctively Touré-Raichel sound on Sunday night, it was the perfect way to end the show: after an exhibition of the exciting new, a little taste of the beloved old.

But the icing on top of the icing: going backstage to congratulate Idan and the others in person.  I don’t think I’ll ever get over the backstage thrill.  The inevitable theater worker who doesn’t want to let me go back there at first; the cramped hallway filled with people, instruments and suitcases; the double takes and the looks of recognition (with the accompanying “Yooooo!”) from my musical idol; the bear hug.

All in all, spectacular music, spectacular people, spectacular night.  If I were you, I wouldn’t miss it.

Opening Doors in Boston, 10/19

I’ve been back in Boston since the end of August, loving–sometimes–the excitement that is my senior year at Brandeis University.  The worst of midterm exams appears to be over, but that’s the thing about midterms: they never—ever!—really end.  This time last week, though, I took a much needed study break and hopped on over to Berklee College of Music for a very special event: Idan Raichel and India Arie were playing their Open Door album at the Berklee Performance Center in Boston, and no midterm was going to stop me from seeing them.

It was a cold, rainy Wednesday night—rather different from my last Open Door experience in Tel Aviv in the heat of summertime—but the atmosphere inside the theater was warm and cozy.  India’s “Soulbird” emblem glowed softly on the back wall of the stage as guests removed their raingear and settled into their seats.  The vibrant buzz of human anticipation ran through the air as everyone waited for the show to begin.  Finally, the lights dimmed, a disembodied voice prohibited pictures during the performance, and—yes!—the artists took their places onstage.  Can you guess where I was?

Actually, I was not backstage this time.  For once, I watched this show as a good audience member should: at an assigned seat in front of the stage.  Still, don’t think that I would write a “Summerbackstage” blog post in the chilly fall without excellent reason to do so.  Both before the show and after, I went backstage to say hi to all my old friends from the summer—there are pictures below to prove it!

Flashback about one hour before the start of the concert: I met one of the band members (Niv, the trumpet player—a Berklee alum, in fact) at a Starbucks across the street from the night’s venue, and he showed me around to the BPC’s backstage door.  A confused Berklee worker stood by while my status was confirmed with the group (they never believe I’m legitimate), and when Niv came back with the all-clear from Idan, we walked through the now-familiar backstage maze of chords and equipment, to the room where the artists and their team members were making last minute preparations—set lists, hairstyles, noshes, etc.

(Quick note about Confused Berklee Worker: I’ll admit I was a little offended at his disbelief when he was told that I was allowed backstage.  Don’t I look like I could have worked with the Rasta-man, even if just for a little while?  There’s a picture of Idan and me at the bottom of this post—you be the judge.)

Resentment of doubting concert staff aside, it was a happy little reunion: there were a few bear hugs (Blue gives top notch ones—just another reason to be his biggest fan), many What-on-earth-are-you-doing-in-Boston’s, and lots of warm “shalom’s.”  After returning the hugs and the shalom’s, and reminding those who inquired that in real life, I’m still a student in Massachusetts—though if I had my way I’d be back in Israel before you can say, “Mima’amakim”—I stood by and soaked up the backstage feeling.  I’d missed it—the intimacy, the familiarity.  Back there, away from the spotlights and the two-story seating schemes, they’re not celebrities; they are simply themselves.  They talk, they eat, they laugh and they go through the familiar motions of their pre-show routines.  It’s a side of showbiz that most people don’t get to see, and I feel newly privileged each time I get to witness it.  If for nothing else (though of course there are other reasons), I would find my way into the music industry just to experience those backstage moments, when the introspective artist transforms into the beloved entertainer.

My backstage appetite temporarily satisfied, I wished luck to the performers and made my way back around to the front of the auditorium.  The last time I had seen this show was at its world premiere back in June (you can read about that performance in this post).  To say that I was excited for this show would be an understatement: I had been waiting four months for this!

The makeup of the audience in the BPC on Wednesday was noteworthy.  While the majority of attendees were American, there was an unmistakable Hebrew current moving about the room.  Idan’s and India’s fan bases united to listen (with ears, eyes and heart, as India had instructed them) to Open Door, coming together—in a single room, on a single stage, in a single song—to merge cultures and musical interests in a way that seemed to fulfill beautifully the vision described in the most well known song of the album so far, “Gift of Acceptance”: “They call you Israeli and they call me American / I look at you and I don’t see a country / I just see my friend.”

India initiated the evening with her typical honesty and sincerity, sharing with the audience that at this time in her life, she needs to tell the truth in the moment—and that, in that moment, the truth was that she had to finish stretching before she could start singing.  And so, the audience gladly indulged India as, in the name of truth and honesty, she spent the first few minutes of Open Door walking about the stage, bending this way and that (in some rather impressive configurations) to the musical accompaniment of the band.  Hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

Stretching routine completed, the real show began.  To put it simply, the concert was awesome.  Idan was—need I even say it?—מצוין, terrific, taking some time in the vocal spotlight, but mostly providing solid piano accompaniment and subtle direction to the rest of the group.  Shantay and Mimi sounded nothing short of incredible the whole night long, blending perfectly in their backup harmonies with India and also taking many opportunities to showcase their individual voices in a few of the numbers.  Blue wowed the audience with an impassioned vocal solo on “Melody for You” (I was not the only one cheering wildly at that point—have I mentioned that Blue is the coolest thing since sliced bread?).  Niv killed his trumpet lines, mixing some lower, smoother sections of accompaniment with a few high-reaching measures of outstanding soloing.  Current Berklee student and Project member Daniel Rotem performed for part of the night as well, smoothly fitting his saxophone into the diverse mix of instruments.  Yankale and Gilad were as superb as the rest, Yankale alternating expertly between bass and oud (that is a cool instrument), and Gilad providing unfailing rhythms throughout the night.  There’s no denying it: this group was made to perform together.

Between Open Door songs, each artist took time to play some of his and her own music.  India sang “Ready for Love” and “Complicated Melody” (a song I’d heard for the first time at the first Open Door, and that is now a personal favorite), Idan and his team played “Shoshanim Atzuvot” (“Sad Roses”—listen here!) and together, Idan and India performed the Idan Raichel Project’s “Mai Nahar” (“River Waters”).

After the concert, I went around backstage one last time to congratulate everyone on yet another job well done.  I talked with Blue about the success of the show and the crowd’s delight at having heard him sing, deliberated with Gilad over the elusive definition of a particular Hebrew word (as it turns out, no single word in English directly translates “לפרגן,” but—for the Hebraically curious among you—Morfix suggests the definition, “to treat favorably”), and said goodbye to India and Idan.  Always on the move, the two teams were getting ready to leave on an enormous tour bus—reminiscent of the Harry Potter Knight Bus though, sadly, not purple—for the next stop on their U.S. tour.  That night, for the first time in my life, I was a little jealous that I don’t live in Vermont.

Open Door

What a night.  What an awesome, awesome night.

First, though, as tends to happen these days, I got to the concert venue right on time (six hours early), and was told by the man at the front desk that I was not allowed backstage.  I’ll admit that this phenomenon is getting a little bit annoying, but I’ll also admit that there’s a great feeling of satisfaction that then comes when someone from the Project walks in and vouches for me.  Yesterday, it was Saati, the lighting guy who walked through the door a few minutes later and told Desk Man that I was legit.  We made our way to where the crew was taking down that afternoon’s opera set—and it was all uphill from there.

I watched stage quickly turn from a giant bedroom (I think that’s what it was—can anyone else explain the huge, red bed?) to a soft, antique-looking salon accented with red carpet and golden chairs.  An old radio sat in the corner by the backup singers’ mics, and a lampshade and a larger-than-life rose stood behind the piano.  It all had the air of an old photograph, or an intimate family gathering, and it was perfect for the evening’s event.

After about forty-five minutes, I went with the driver to pick up India’s manager.  (Point of Pride: The hotel workers recognize me now.  That’s how I know I’m part of the Project :P.)  Next came India’s, VML’s, Shantay’s, Mimi’s and Blue’s pickup, and the sound check began.

Even the sound check last night was excellent; it was more like a pre-concert concert than a matter of technical necessity.  Mimi and Shantay sang a gorgeous version of India’s song “Complicated Melody,” which they also ended up performing later on during the show (contrary to the set list’s plan, as far as I’m aware—but there’s the music industry for you…always keeping you on your toes!).  For the curious among you, here’s the link to the studio version.

Blue played and sang a version of “Lean on Me” that would have given Bill Withers a run for his money, Niv learned an extra trumpet part in about five minutes (there’s a Berklee grad for you), Gilad and Yankale were solid as usual, and Idan and India ran through a few numbers to make sure everything sounded top-notch.  Which it did, of course.

After all the artists had been delivered to the auditorium, my next assignment was to go with Haimon to pick up dinner for the team.  There was a little bit of a scare: the show was scheduled to start at 10:00, and by 9:30 the food was just ready to load into the van.  Luckily, aside from some funny stares when the waiter looked around for a Yossi—under whose name the food had been ordered—and found me, a petit girl in a black dress raising my hand (“I’m Yossi!” “You’re—what?”), everything else went smoothly.  I get the feeling that when you see “Raichel” listed on your order, you don’t ask too many questions.

At long last, we drove the food—there was tons of it—back to the Opera House, delivered it to the various dressing rooms, and it was show time.  It was show time!!!

The performance was incredible (didn’t I tell you it would be?!).  The energy and excitement onstage (and backstage!) were tangible.  India danced during the musical interludes, and the crowd joined in on some of the numbers.  I got my moment(s) onstage, too: for any of you who were there last night, I was the girl who kept walking out to give India her tea.  Those were about the scariest twenty-foot strolls of my life, but I secretly enjoyed every second of them… 😛

“Open Door” seems like an opportunity for both artists to push past their previous musical boundaries into new, exciting territory.  India is exploring her ability to sing in Hebrew (an ability she is developing remarkably quickly—everyone loved her paragraph of introduction to the audience towards the beginning of the show, in which she said that she speaks “a little bit of Hebrew”), and Raichel’s piano solos are more jazzy than what you’ll generally hear in the Project’s music; they give you a real sense of his versatility on the piano.  When the album comes out, I’ll definitely be buying myself a copy (or a thousand).  Will you be joining me? 🙂

Until next time!

Ariel

In a Little Studio in Tel Aviv, a Little Taste of Heaven

I met India’s manager, her two backup singers and Blue this morning at their hotel.  We piled into the van to pick up India and her friend a few doors down, and together we all cruised (if you can ever call driving through Tel Aviv “cruising”) to today’s rehearsal.  Yossi rode near by us on his motorcycle (or, as Cabra once referred to it, his “toos-toos”), and so began the day.

If today’s rehearsal is any indicator, the show tomorrow is going to be incredible.

All the songs have come together beautifully; even since the rehearsal just yesterday, the difference is remarkable.  Part of it must be due to the arrival of additional musicians who will be playing the show tomorrow night: Niv on the trumpet, and Shantay and Mimi on backup vocals (they’re the singers we picked up this morning—they flew in yesterday!).  While yesterday’s rehearsal was superb, today’s sounded even more full and together.  Two-part harmonies turned to three, solos got spiced up by Niv’s trumpet—and I was in musical heaven.

After a few hours of this (my personal brand of bliss), we piled back in the van—this time with Avi Wassa, one of the Project’s regular performers, who happened to know the obscure location of one coveted Ethiopian clothing store—brought the backup singers, manager and guitarist to their hotel, and dropped India and her friend off on Shenkin St. to do some exploring.  I was the final stop for Haimon, the van driver, and now here I sit writing to you :).

Before the rehearsal let out, Wassa was kind enough to give us all a taste of his musical talents.  The group played “Mima’amakim,” and Wassa sang through all of the Amharic sections of the song that he usually performs in the live shows (everyone was wildly impressed—as they should be!  Wassa has an extremely heartfelt, true voice, and Amharic does NOT sound like a particularly easy language to sing in—כל הכבוד, וואסה :)).  I’ve got to say, corny as it might sound: when we’re all sitting in those small rehearsal studios, everything so informal and “unrehearsed” (they’re not acting for an audience in there), and the group begins to play a song that I know—“Mima’amakim,” “Im Telech,” “Mei Nahar,” “Ima, Abba VeKol Hash’ar”—I can’t help but feel like they’re playing me a private concert.  Other people may be in the room—people who were in other parts of the studio and have stepped in to watch the rehearsal, people from India’s team, part of the Raichel management—but all I hear is the music, and all I see are the artists.  For about three minutes we’re alone in the world, just them and me.  I’m going to be so sad to have to give that up eventually—but I hear internships can’t last forever.

For now, I’ll just have to try to remember (and write down) every minute of this one… 🙂

23 hours and 48 minutes till the big event!  See you there… 🙂

Rehearsal! (need I say more?)

First of all, I got a monogrammed guitar pick from Blue today.  Mission accomplished.

Second of all, today was incredibly awesome: India and Idan started rehearsing for Friday’s concert, with the impeccable accompaniment of Gilad (drums), Yankeleh (bass and middle eastern strings) and Blue (guitar).

The rehearsal took place at the Yedakol studio in Petach Tikvah (a studio equipped with a kitchen—artists have got to eat, you know), and I was given the too-good-to-be-true privilege of being able to sit in the room while they played.

As a fan—but particularly as a performer of sorts (“Brandeis” these days is basically synonymous with “a cappella”)—it was extremely interesting to see the process that goes into a rehearsal of professional musicians.  The same element of repetition, the same frequent substitution of syllables (la-da-ba-dum-do-di) for words, the same working of harmonies until they hit that perfect, echoing resonance—it was all there, with the minor (okay, major) addition of Yedakol’s expert sound equipment.  And the fact that it was Idan Raichel and India Arie singing into the mics.

Raichel and Arie are certainly different, but there is no doubt that together they make music worth remembering.  Each brings something unique to the table (Raichel, that smooth, smooth voice; India, her undeniable groove; and many other things that would take a whole book to list in full), and when their voices come together, the chords they form are beautifully blended and enchanting.

After about three and a half hours of rehearsal—during which India also practiced her newest IRP Hebrew song, scheduled to debut on Friday night; get excited, it’s one of my favorites!—it was time to call it quits.  After a small, late lunch of Aroma takeout (it seems to be the go-to food around here), we dropped off India and her girls for a shopping trip in Tel Aviv, and brought Blue back at his hotel.  Duties done, artists safe and sound, and blog post in mind, I told to driver my address and went on home, too.

Rehearsal tomorrow, show on Friday!

Some relevant entertainment: Watch and listen to India and Idan’s song, “Gift of Acceptance,” one of the songs that they practiced at today’s rehearsal!

India and Co.

Quick update on today’s adventures (really yesterday’s—it’s 3:05am), then time for B-E-D.

I went with Yossi to pick up India Arie and her team from the airport this afternoon.  She came in with her friend and her manager, and her guitar player, Blue, arrived in Israel a few hours later.  (Blue, by the way, carries monogrammed guitar picks.  Do we think if I asked really nicely he’d give me one?  That might be my unofficial mission of the week…)

India is determined as ever to learn and understand the Hebrew song she intends to perform at the Open Door concert on Friday.  She was doing a fabulous job in the van of pronouncing the song’s difficult words, and I got the opportunity to put my Hebrew Language and Literature major to some direct use by providing a few definitions and grammar explanations when necessary.  Current challenge: to find India a Hebrew-English dictionary that writes the Hebrew words in English letters (i.e. transliterates).  Any ideas?  No matter what, given her impressive command of the language in previous performances with Raichel (see her beautiful rendition of “Mei Nahar”—“River Waters”—here), I am more than confident that her studying will pay off.  I anticipate a gorgeous, gorgeous performance on Friday night :).

I’m discovering that one definite upside to this business is that you’re constantly in contact with really interesting people—artists, the people that take care of them (because that does seem to be a major part of management: making sure everyone’s comfortable, that no one gets stranded at the airport, and that the food gets in on time), more artists.  Definitely something to consider on my running mental list of music industry pros and cons.

‘Til next time 🙂

A

Manic Monday

June 20th, the Project played two shows in Tel Aviv—and I got to meet a ton of cool people :).

Show number one was a special performance at Tel Aviv University for Taglit/Birthright.  After the usual long wait, a quick lunch of Aroma takeout, a small scare with the smoke detectors (somebody forgot to set them to not go off when the fog machine went on), and a few set list alterations, the show began.

Alright, a little bit more happened than that.

During that post-sound check, pre-show wait, I had a lovely chat with Raichel.  (–> Prime example of why those long waiting periods deserve to be loved and cherished, Re: Life Lesson #5 from yesterday’s post.  You never know with whom you might find yourself chitchatting… :))  FYI: to everyone on the team, he’s Raichel, not Idan.  Ever friendly and welcoming, Raichel sat down and told me stories about crazy fans that, to the bewilderment of the artists, have found their way onstage mid-performance; interviews in which he started saying ridiculous things because he could tell that the interviewer wasn’t listening to his responses (I was an outstanding listener, by the way); and scenes from his favorite episodes of “Ramzor,” “Traffic Light,” an Israeli TV show that I must now watch to be considered cool.

Then, Yossi assigned me the infinitely important task of delivering the most updated set list to Barak, one of the YedaKol (sound company) guys—a task that I executed perfectly, thank you very much.

And then the show began.  Do I have to say that it was great as always?  Most of the audience came down to stand (more like dance) next to the stage, and someone actually started crowd surfing.

Within minutes of the Taglit show’s ending, I piled into a van with some of the group members and rode over to Namal Tel Aviv (Tel Aviv Port), where show number two—a Hillel Israel event—would take place a few hours later.  After learning the technical tedium involved in the lighting preparations (aka, after watching the lighting guy endlessly spin dials and press buttons to make sure all of the background projections were centered on the stage—and then have to repeat the process because of some technology glitch), I moved to the back room to wait—chat, observe—with the others.

Last night’s concert was a very special one have witnessed.  There were three spontaneous performances (and one spontaneous unfastening of Gilad’s cymbal—courtesy of Raichel): Adam Gorlizki, Shimon Buskila, and Idan Haviv happened to be backstage that night, and Raichel asked them each to play a song with the Project.  Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see Buskila’s performance—I was in a meeting with the managers about this week’s exciting schedule!—but given the admiration Raichel expressed for the man’s musical talents a few minutes before the show, I am sure that it was nothing short of spectacular.

Gorlizki played Raichel’s piano part for “Mima’amakim” (“Out of the Depths,” an all time favorite of mine and, I’m pretty sure, of the world’s), which he apparently knew from helping write the orchestral version of the song a few years ago.  Wonderful performance, Adam!

Haviv went last of the three, and he played guitar and sang the melody line of “Mom, Dad and Everyone Else.”  My surreal moment of the night happened when I suddenly realized that he looked so familiar because I’d been watching the song’s Youtube video on repeat for the past few weeks (have I mentioned that I love the song?), and Haviv is the original singer featured in the studio version.  I got to wish him a job well done :).

Overall, a totally packed, exciting day.  Two superb shows, lots of notable characters (Mama, Papa, Sista and Brotha Raichel showed up backstage at the Hillel concert, too!), lots of things learned—such as there is a lot more bureaucracy involved behind the scenes than one might imagine would be necessary for a performance that gives off the impression of being pure art.  Contracts must be stuck to, set lists timed to perfection…There’s more to professional music today than simply the music.

Next up: Adventures with India Arie…!

Life Lessons

Day 2 backstage.

Sunday evening, the Idan Raichel Project played a concert at the Tel Aviv Museum of Art.  Despite a marvelous bus driver who told me to get off the bus four stops too early, I arrived at the venue right on time and waited outside the front doors to walk in with Yossi.

It was at that point that I learned Life Lesson #1: There is almost always—always—a back entrance, and Yossi and the rest of the team will most likely enter through there.

So, after a brief exchange with a bewildered event worker—

“Sorry, who are you?”

“I’m Ariel!  The intern.”

“The what?”

“The intern…Yossi told me to go back?”—

I walked through the front entrance solo, and made my way to the auditorium. (That brings us to very important Lesson #2: When in doubt, invoke the name of Yossi.)

I learned a few things about the sound check, such as where on stage to tape each musician’s copy of the set list (Idan on the ledge of his piano, Maya, Cabra and Avi facing them on the monitors), and that the stagehands receive copies of the set list, too, to make the show run smoothly.  I also learned that the correct term for the two speakers that sit in front of the singers is in fact “monitors,” and not “speakers” or “those things.”  I accidentally used both of those at various times throughout the sound check, and believe me when I tell you: they are called “monitors.”

After Sound Check 101, I passed most of the time before the show waiting with the group members in a downstairs room, where Yossi had graciously provided some snacks for his performers.  Everyone was more than a bit sleepy that evening: the Project had been in Milan the night before, and while I was assured that the show itself had been great, I was doubly assured that the seven hour bus ride to Rome that came afterwards had been less so.  This pre-show waiting period was about the only time most of them had had to rest in the previous twenty-four hours, and it seemed that if it weren’t for Yossi’s coffee—and mine and Shir’s (Shalom the Oude Player’s son) increasingly accurate renditions of “Heart and Soul” on the piano—the whole Project might have fallen asleep before the curtain call.  Lesson #3: Showbiz is exhausting.

Closer to show time, Idan came downstairs to give the final instructions.  VERY IMPORTANT Lesson #4: No matter in what state your favorite musician walks into the room—shirt on, shirt off, or in a freaking clown costume—keep your cool.  I won’t say anything more, but take this piece of advice, put it in your pocket and save it for later when it might come in handy.  Keep. Your. Cool.

I did almost start laughing at what followed, however: soon after Idan came in, the group members began to speak (what to my ears sounded like) some sort of Raichel Gibberish.  I quickly gathered that they were discussing last minute changes to the show—how to change the intro to one song, how to play another the same way they had done it in Milan, how to shorten the ending of a third—but all I heard was, “Do the na-na-na-naaa and then ne-ne-neee-ne before the ending niiiiii.  Sababa?”  Really, it was like the Project had its own language, to add to the plethora of others that they use in their actual songs.  It was rather amusing—and amazing—to listen to.

Finally (Lesson #5: Waiting is an inescapable part of the music industry—waiting for all of the artists to arrive, waiting for the act before yours to finish, waiting for your posted show time to come and go; the key is to embrace the wait), everyone went upstairs and the concert began.  As it was, you would never have guessed that the group had spent a sleepless night on a moving vehicle the day before.  Their performance was energetic as ever: they danced, they executed spontaneous instrument trades (Idan moved to the bass, Ziv to the piano, and later Idan to Eyal’s flute—is everyone in this group so musically versatile??), they created impeccable harmonies and their smiles were unfailing.  I sat backstage throughout the concert just like last time, though as Shir—by now a concert veteran—pointed out, the sound isn’t quite as full from back there as it is from the audience.  Still, I love it.  You see the show from a completely different angle, literally and figuratively: the looks from one musician to another to signal the approaching end to a song, the motions of the singers to the stagehands to fix some technical flaw (a flaw that is only perceptible to them, of course—to the audience, the whole production is perfect as always), the winks sent backstage to friends that have come to watch the performance—these are things you don’t get to see from the audience, and they transform the concert from a public show to a much more intimate affair.

Before leaving me to watch from a different location, Shir (my new best friend) mentioned that by now, he’s used to the performances; I guess a father in the band will do that for you.  I don’t think I’ll ever get used to them, though.  The music is always so fresh, always changing—with a slightly altered melody line here, a different dynamic there, a new audience out front.  This music is literally alive, and it makes for a new experience every time.

Towards the end of the concert, Idan and Gilad played “Mom, Dad and Everyone Else” (”אמא, אבא וכל השאר”), one of my new favorites.  Catch the original version on Youtube here.  For those who know Hebrew, you can hear the story behind the song here.

Check back for more posts this week!  We’ve got India Arie flying in for the Open Door concert, happening this Friday…!

Have a lovely Tuesday,

Ariel