Jerusalem Post, Billboard; Friday, October 13, 2006
Even the name of this new mega-bar in the Yad Harutzim bar compound of Tel Aviv evokes machismo and self-indulgence. That the Ego Bar was founded by Israeli hoopster Moshe Mizrahi together with the Israeli television channel for men, EGO, only strengthens the impression that the bar is a men's club.
While metrosexuals and straight gals who don't mind a little chauvinism seem like its natural clientele, it remains to be seen what kind of people this athletic, male-themed bar will attract. Ego Bar opened last week (September 29) with a loud party attended by many tall men (fellow basketball players), Mizrachi's friends and guests of both sexes. Mizrahi insists that Ego Bar is a place where all genders should feel comfortable.
'If you see the decor, it's not really a man's bar,' he asserts. Built on the grounds of Escobar, there are no loud masculine motifs, even though there was an erotic dancer at the opening party. The colors of the bar match the EGO channel logo: red, yellow, and orange, adding warmth to the impressive space. The DJ booth, shaped like a jail cell, spins a different genre of music every night over a commendable sound system. Some of the decor is a little flamboyant, particularly the red-leathered lounge areas with their funky chandeliers, but the main bar is generally user friendly.
Mizrahi got the idea for the bar 'on the spur of the moment,' following conversations with friends.
But yet another athlete opening a bar? Makes one wonder if the whole endeavor isn't just an ego trip.
Rehov Shevach, Tel Aviv
(03) 639-1551
Hours: From 9 p.m.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Mea Gulpa (bar review)
Jerusalem Post, Billboard; October 12, 2006
Click here for original
Modern rabbinic lore has it that even though Tel Aviv is the secular capital of Israel it is one of its holiest cities, since no church has been built there. Well, at least not until a few months ago.
The newest "church" in Tel Aviv, Griffin, combines the best of two "evils": Christian iconography and steamy Tel Aviv nightlife.
Griffin, whose name is taken from an early symbol describing Jesus, is a happening, well-stocked lounge bar whose interior is designed to resemble an imposing cathedral.
"This is a dream I had for years," explained Yossi Sher, one of the owners. The idea for this house of liquor worship came when he was partying at an Amsterdam club built inside a former church. He was intrigued by the many common motifs: high ceilings to make a man feel like he is part of something greater, and romantic lighting and art for a feeling of mystic exaltation.
While studying architecture at Tel Aviv University, Sher worked at various TA pubs. As a student, he had already begun to create a model of his bar/church using 3D digital imaging.
The final result is impressive. The lighting, pillars, craftsmanship, embroidery and high ceilings all add to a sense of grandeur. The nave consists of a long, rectangular bar with 60 "pews" leading up to the priest's podium (aka the DJ booth). Above the booth is a stained-glass window with images the pope might find illuminating. The bar is flanked by two lounge areas so people can observe the procession of fellow sinners... err, congregants. The bathrooms resemble confessionals and are perfectly suited for the activities common in pick-up bars - things that would require confession.
Sher and his partner Yuval Barashi, an interior designer, were able to create exactly what they envisioned; it's as if Sher's education was all filtered into the project. Griffin is the only structure Sher has ever built as a graduate of architecture school.
This shrine to Tel Aviv nightlife is intended to attract those who are pious about their nightlife priorities: looking good, smoking premium cigarettes, nursing quality drinks, and picking up classy members of the opposite sex. Almost since its opening two months ago, it has been a hot spot for an attractive professional crowd.
Griffin definitely has an aura of Tel Aviv nightlife sanctity, assisted by devout attention to detail in food, d cor and service. It is located right under the Levenstein business towers. Ironically, prior to construction, the empty site had been used as a makeshift synagogue by the religious Israelis who worked there. But Sher didn't seriously consider combining a shul and a bar.
"Synagogues are much less impressive than churches," he explains.
Rehov Menachem Begin 23, Tel Aviv; (03) 560-0001; hours: from 8 p.m.
Click here for original
Modern rabbinic lore has it that even though Tel Aviv is the secular capital of Israel it is one of its holiest cities, since no church has been built there. Well, at least not until a few months ago.
The newest "church" in Tel Aviv, Griffin, combines the best of two "evils": Christian iconography and steamy Tel Aviv nightlife.
Griffin, whose name is taken from an early symbol describing Jesus, is a happening, well-stocked lounge bar whose interior is designed to resemble an imposing cathedral.
"This is a dream I had for years," explained Yossi Sher, one of the owners. The idea for this house of liquor worship came when he was partying at an Amsterdam club built inside a former church. He was intrigued by the many common motifs: high ceilings to make a man feel like he is part of something greater, and romantic lighting and art for a feeling of mystic exaltation.
While studying architecture at Tel Aviv University, Sher worked at various TA pubs. As a student, he had already begun to create a model of his bar/church using 3D digital imaging.
The final result is impressive. The lighting, pillars, craftsmanship, embroidery and high ceilings all add to a sense of grandeur. The nave consists of a long, rectangular bar with 60 "pews" leading up to the priest's podium (aka the DJ booth). Above the booth is a stained-glass window with images the pope might find illuminating. The bar is flanked by two lounge areas so people can observe the procession of fellow sinners... err, congregants. The bathrooms resemble confessionals and are perfectly suited for the activities common in pick-up bars - things that would require confession.
Sher and his partner Yuval Barashi, an interior designer, were able to create exactly what they envisioned; it's as if Sher's education was all filtered into the project. Griffin is the only structure Sher has ever built as a graduate of architecture school.
This shrine to Tel Aviv nightlife is intended to attract those who are pious about their nightlife priorities: looking good, smoking premium cigarettes, nursing quality drinks, and picking up classy members of the opposite sex. Almost since its opening two months ago, it has been a hot spot for an attractive professional crowd.
Griffin definitely has an aura of Tel Aviv nightlife sanctity, assisted by devout attention to detail in food, d cor and service. It is located right under the Levenstein business towers. Ironically, prior to construction, the empty site had been used as a makeshift synagogue by the religious Israelis who worked there. But Sher didn't seriously consider combining a shul and a bar.
"Synagogues are much less impressive than churches," he explains.
Rehov Menachem Begin 23, Tel Aviv; (03) 560-0001; hours: from 8 p.m.
Friday, September 29, 2006
A bar for valley girls (bar review)
Jerusalem Post, Billboard; September 29, 2006
'My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.' The most happening bar-lounge in Emek Hefer, the rural valley just north of Netanya, takes its name from this famous cinematic phrase of The Princess Bride, which follows Princess Buttercup's love for a blonde farm boy. While you may not find any blonde princes or princesses at Inigo Montoya, chances are you'll find strapping Israeli farmboys and farmgirls, since Inigo Montoya was created to serve the outlaying farm communities, kibbutzim and villages that dot the valley.
One such farmboy is co-owner Ziv Rabinovich, who grew up in a moshav nearby. A pioneer of the nightlife scene in Emek Hefer, he began his career renting out a hangar in the woods for weekend parties for soldiers. Lechet, as the place became known, soon became a full-fledged party production house. With the expertise and connections he acquired, Rabinovich and his partners decided to open a bar that could rival those in Tel Aviv.
'We knew there was a lack of bars of this caliber in this area,' he explains. By 'this style,' he refers to pumping music, invested decor, a professionally run bar, good-looking bartenders, selection by age and lots of sex appeal. Rabinovich and his partners researched bars in Herzliya and Tel Aviv (if you can call partying research) to transplant cosmopolitan standards to a sleepy town whose nightlife had hitherto consisted mostly of kibbutz cafes and mom-and-pop pubs.
Inigo Montoya just celebrated its first anniversary on September 15 with a wild party attracting the 'who's who' of Emek Hefer and celebs including singer Shiri Maimon, actor Ofer Shechter and A Star is Born winner Jacko Eisenberg, showing Tel Aviv that Emek Hefer knows how to party. The entire portico was lavishly decorated, and a nearby hall was rented out to make room for the 2,000 partiers who came to celebrate this local nightlife achievement and dance the night away to well-known trance ensembles such as Astral Projection.
The place is packed every night with locals and students living in the area. Bar reservations are recommended, unless you don't mind rubbing against some well-dressed farmgirls or farmboys in the aisles. The interior brick design is dark yet warm and friendly, meant to mimic a medieval castle. But there are no medieval norms at Inigo Montoya. Locals come to get wasted and perhaps leave with a Prince or Princess Charming.
One would be hard-pressed to find English speakers in Inigo Montoya (or other bars in the area for that matter), mostly because Emek Hefer is home largely to sabras. That's part of its appeal. Inigo Montoya is for nightlife adventurers who are tired of Tel Aviv conventions and seek a night out with small-town, homegrown Israeli partiers.
Despite its exclusivity, Inigo Montoya is easily accessible. It's located at the Yonnai Junction, on the second floor of a shopping center that serves as a popular rest stop for Tel Aviv-Haifa commuters. More and more Tel Avivians are making the half-hour trek to Inigo Montoya for its farmlike coziness, earthy abandon, quality food and rural clientele.
Hopefully, it won't get overrun by too many out-of- towners.
Em HaDerech Mall; Yonnai Junction
Open daily from 9 p.m.
Ages: 23+ girls; 25+ boys
Music and specials: Sun: Israeli (50% off Sushi), Mon: Hip hop (20% off wine), Tues: Rock/alternative (20% off beer); Thurs-Sat: Freestyle
No cover
'My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.' The most happening bar-lounge in Emek Hefer, the rural valley just north of Netanya, takes its name from this famous cinematic phrase of The Princess Bride, which follows Princess Buttercup's love for a blonde farm boy. While you may not find any blonde princes or princesses at Inigo Montoya, chances are you'll find strapping Israeli farmboys and farmgirls, since Inigo Montoya was created to serve the outlaying farm communities, kibbutzim and villages that dot the valley.
One such farmboy is co-owner Ziv Rabinovich, who grew up in a moshav nearby. A pioneer of the nightlife scene in Emek Hefer, he began his career renting out a hangar in the woods for weekend parties for soldiers. Lechet, as the place became known, soon became a full-fledged party production house. With the expertise and connections he acquired, Rabinovich and his partners decided to open a bar that could rival those in Tel Aviv.
'We knew there was a lack of bars of this caliber in this area,' he explains. By 'this style,' he refers to pumping music, invested decor, a professionally run bar, good-looking bartenders, selection by age and lots of sex appeal. Rabinovich and his partners researched bars in Herzliya and Tel Aviv (if you can call partying research) to transplant cosmopolitan standards to a sleepy town whose nightlife had hitherto consisted mostly of kibbutz cafes and mom-and-pop pubs.
Inigo Montoya just celebrated its first anniversary on September 15 with a wild party attracting the 'who's who' of Emek Hefer and celebs including singer Shiri Maimon, actor Ofer Shechter and A Star is Born winner Jacko Eisenberg, showing Tel Aviv that Emek Hefer knows how to party. The entire portico was lavishly decorated, and a nearby hall was rented out to make room for the 2,000 partiers who came to celebrate this local nightlife achievement and dance the night away to well-known trance ensembles such as Astral Projection.
The place is packed every night with locals and students living in the area. Bar reservations are recommended, unless you don't mind rubbing against some well-dressed farmgirls or farmboys in the aisles. The interior brick design is dark yet warm and friendly, meant to mimic a medieval castle. But there are no medieval norms at Inigo Montoya. Locals come to get wasted and perhaps leave with a Prince or Princess Charming.
One would be hard-pressed to find English speakers in Inigo Montoya (or other bars in the area for that matter), mostly because Emek Hefer is home largely to sabras. That's part of its appeal. Inigo Montoya is for nightlife adventurers who are tired of Tel Aviv conventions and seek a night out with small-town, homegrown Israeli partiers.
Despite its exclusivity, Inigo Montoya is easily accessible. It's located at the Yonnai Junction, on the second floor of a shopping center that serves as a popular rest stop for Tel Aviv-Haifa commuters. More and more Tel Avivians are making the half-hour trek to Inigo Montoya for its farmlike coziness, earthy abandon, quality food and rural clientele.
Hopefully, it won't get overrun by too many out-of- towners.
Em HaDerech Mall; Yonnai Junction
Open daily from 9 p.m.
Ages: 23+ girls; 25+ boys
Music and specials: Sun: Israeli (50% off Sushi), Mon: Hip hop (20% off wine), Tues: Rock/alternative (20% off beer); Thurs-Sat: Freestyle
No cover
Thursday, September 21, 2006
New book tries to keep Orthodox--Orthodox (book review)
The Jewish Journal; September 21, 2006
Click here for original
"Off the Derech: Why Observant Jews Leave Judaism; How to Respond to the Challenge," by Faranak Margolese (Devora, 2005).
Several years ago, I received an online questionnaire asking things like: "If you had to attribute your not being observant to one thing, what would it be?" and "Did you ever feel rejected because you were not observant enough?" Now my answers, as well as those of 465 other Orthodox rebels, are the subject of the book, "Off the Derech."
Written by Faranak Margolese, a Los Angeles native and graduate of Yeshiva of Los Angeles Girls High School who now lives in Jerusalem, the book seeks to explain why some Jews who grow up in observant homes and attend Orthodox schools drop halachic observance later in life. By understanding this phenomenon, she believes Orthodox communities and individuals could more effectively remedy it.
But this book is not aimed at people who went off the derech, which in Hebrew means "path." Instead, it's intended for those seeking to ensure Orthodox continuity. Throughout the book, Margolese does not treat those who went "off the derech" with disdain or disapproval; rather, she turns her critical focus to certain behaviors and attitudes of Orthodox people, which can turn younger generations off to Torah Judaism.
Nonetheless, her book has earned her praise from leading Orthodox rabbis for outlining an integral path of honest introspection for Orthodox communities, making the book a fitting read for the High Holidays.
Margolese conceived of the idea for the book when she began to notice that many of her friends who grew up in religious homes were no longer observant. Margolese describes a period in which she herself experienced her share of doubts, which resulted in lapses in her observance of Shabbat and kashrut.
Eventually, she resolved the emotional and intellectual conflicts she had with Torah Judaism and has fully committed herself to the Orthodox way of life. Her own experience contributes to the sensitivity with which she tackles the subject.
In an extremely lucid and logical style, Margolese makes a praiseworthy attempt not to oversimplify the reasons why people of different Orthodox shades abandon observance, which she defines loosely as the halachic observance of Shabbat and kashrut. Often, a complex series of factors and experiences trigger defection.
One main reason, she argues, is negative emotional associations young Orthodox Jews develop toward Judaism as a result of hurtful encounters with Orthodox people. These include parents who make children feel rejected for failing in religious observance, teachers who call students "wicked" or "dirty" for dabbling with secular ideas or behaviors, or any Orthodox Jews, particularly rabbis and educators, who are overly judgmental or nitpicky regarding the minutiae of Jewish laws at the expense of kindness and understanding.
Margolese separates emotional and intellectual issues and explains that emotional dissatisfaction is more an influential motivator than intellectual issues with Judaism. In fact, a majority of her respondents affirmed that they still believe in the Divine origins of the Torah. Nevertheless, she found rabbis and teachers often turn their students off to Torah Judaism and rabbinic authority by downplaying their sincere quest to understand God, Torah and reasons for observing mitzvot, (commandments).
Margolese offers several remedies, which put the burden of change on potential role models. Prescriptions include: parents not dogmatically enforcing religious observance at the expense of their child's emotional well-being and sense of security; parents and educators grounding their emphasis on maintaining observance with the humanitarian purpose, inspiring vision and rational context underlying mitzvot, and practitioners not shying away from questions posed by intellectually curious Orthodox Jews.
By turning culpability to observant people, educators and communities, Margolese successfully removes blame from the ideal Orthodox system she portrays. If only the practitioners were the models of the best of Orthodoxy fulfilled -- open, spiritual, psychologically perceptive and halachic -- then fewer people might leave the fold.
In keeping with her loyalty to Orthodoxy, Margolese does not devote separate discussion to a popular reason why some people leave Orthodox Judaism: Orthodox Judaism, no matter how it is taught or presented, entails too many restrictions, many of which could be unfulfilling and stifling, both in thought and day-to-day practice.
It is only natural that Margolese defend the belief system and lifestyle she is ultimately advocating, but her remedies will probably not apply to those who have questioned the basic tenets of Orthodoxy and found them wanting.
Click here for original
"Off the Derech: Why Observant Jews Leave Judaism; How to Respond to the Challenge," by Faranak Margolese (Devora, 2005).
Several years ago, I received an online questionnaire asking things like: "If you had to attribute your not being observant to one thing, what would it be?" and "Did you ever feel rejected because you were not observant enough?" Now my answers, as well as those of 465 other Orthodox rebels, are the subject of the book, "Off the Derech."
Written by Faranak Margolese, a Los Angeles native and graduate of Yeshiva of Los Angeles Girls High School who now lives in Jerusalem, the book seeks to explain why some Jews who grow up in observant homes and attend Orthodox schools drop halachic observance later in life. By understanding this phenomenon, she believes Orthodox communities and individuals could more effectively remedy it.
But this book is not aimed at people who went off the derech, which in Hebrew means "path." Instead, it's intended for those seeking to ensure Orthodox continuity. Throughout the book, Margolese does not treat those who went "off the derech" with disdain or disapproval; rather, she turns her critical focus to certain behaviors and attitudes of Orthodox people, which can turn younger generations off to Torah Judaism.
Nonetheless, her book has earned her praise from leading Orthodox rabbis for outlining an integral path of honest introspection for Orthodox communities, making the book a fitting read for the High Holidays.
Margolese conceived of the idea for the book when she began to notice that many of her friends who grew up in religious homes were no longer observant. Margolese describes a period in which she herself experienced her share of doubts, which resulted in lapses in her observance of Shabbat and kashrut.
Eventually, she resolved the emotional and intellectual conflicts she had with Torah Judaism and has fully committed herself to the Orthodox way of life. Her own experience contributes to the sensitivity with which she tackles the subject.
In an extremely lucid and logical style, Margolese makes a praiseworthy attempt not to oversimplify the reasons why people of different Orthodox shades abandon observance, which she defines loosely as the halachic observance of Shabbat and kashrut. Often, a complex series of factors and experiences trigger defection.
One main reason, she argues, is negative emotional associations young Orthodox Jews develop toward Judaism as a result of hurtful encounters with Orthodox people. These include parents who make children feel rejected for failing in religious observance, teachers who call students "wicked" or "dirty" for dabbling with secular ideas or behaviors, or any Orthodox Jews, particularly rabbis and educators, who are overly judgmental or nitpicky regarding the minutiae of Jewish laws at the expense of kindness and understanding.
Margolese separates emotional and intellectual issues and explains that emotional dissatisfaction is more an influential motivator than intellectual issues with Judaism. In fact, a majority of her respondents affirmed that they still believe in the Divine origins of the Torah. Nevertheless, she found rabbis and teachers often turn their students off to Torah Judaism and rabbinic authority by downplaying their sincere quest to understand God, Torah and reasons for observing mitzvot, (commandments).
Margolese offers several remedies, which put the burden of change on potential role models. Prescriptions include: parents not dogmatically enforcing religious observance at the expense of their child's emotional well-being and sense of security; parents and educators grounding their emphasis on maintaining observance with the humanitarian purpose, inspiring vision and rational context underlying mitzvot, and practitioners not shying away from questions posed by intellectually curious Orthodox Jews.
By turning culpability to observant people, educators and communities, Margolese successfully removes blame from the ideal Orthodox system she portrays. If only the practitioners were the models of the best of Orthodoxy fulfilled -- open, spiritual, psychologically perceptive and halachic -- then fewer people might leave the fold.
In keeping with her loyalty to Orthodoxy, Margolese does not devote separate discussion to a popular reason why some people leave Orthodox Judaism: Orthodox Judaism, no matter how it is taught or presented, entails too many restrictions, many of which could be unfulfilling and stifling, both in thought and day-to-day practice.
It is only natural that Margolese defend the belief system and lifestyle she is ultimately advocating, but her remedies will probably not apply to those who have questioned the basic tenets of Orthodoxy and found them wanting.
Thursday, June 1, 2006
A celestial tour
Jewish Journal; June 1, 2006
Click here for original
If "American Idol" runner-up Katherine McPhee can enjoy even half the success achieved by Shiri Maimon, runner-up of the first season of Israel's version of the show -- dubbed "A Star Is Born" -- then she will be lucky.
With a powerful voice and Britney-esque looks and videos, Maimon, 25, has become one of Israel's most sought-after and popular pop stars since winning fourth place in the Eurovision singing competition last year, representing Israel with the moving ballad, "Sheket She'nishar."
Next week she will be in Los Angeles as guest performer alongside veteran Israeli artist Rami Kleinstein on his U.S. tour. Kleinstein has previously performed solo several times in Los Angeles, but this is the first time he'll be bringing his band, The 2nd Council, and his Israeli "Idol" protégé, Maimon.
"Singing together brings out the good chemistry we have," said the usually bubbly Maimon via an e-mail interview, which she managed to sneak in in-between sold out concerts and rehearsals for her starring role in a new musical called, "The Band."
Kleinstein first met Maimon at the "A Star Is Born" finale, when he directed the finalists before the show. He continues to guide Maimon, but this time as the musical director of "The Band," the musical version of the 1970s Israeli cult film of the same name. Following the success of her guest performance at his concerts in Israel, he decided to bring her to the U.S., as well. This will be Maimon's first trip to the U.S. She'll perform a few of her hit songs, including "Le'an Shelo Tilchi," which Kleinstein wrote for her first album.
While not an "avid fan" of "A Star Is Born" or singing contests of the like, Kleinstein said he believes that Maimon, whom he calls "a very talented singer," was one of the few Israeli finalists to use her success in the contest as a springboard to develop a music career, rather than an acting or television career.
"When someone wins 'Idol' and doesn't make a record and goes on to host TV shows where there is business, money and a future, it's as if they've caught a ride on this 'Idol,' where they're voted to be singers, and they don't sing."
As for Maimon's thoughts on "American Idol": "I've watched 'American Idol' a couple of times but not regularly. It's very different from the type of show we have here. The fact that the contestants have the chance to meet some of the great musicians and producers of the world, like Stevie Wonder, is amazing to me."
She counts first-ever "Idol" winner Kelly Clarkson among her favorite American singers, which is only natural since, of all the "American Idols," Maimon's voice and success on the Israeli level most matches that "American Idol" favorite.
Shiri Maimon will perform with Rami Kleinstein at the Avalon on June 5. For tickets, call (818) 986-7332.
Click here for original
If "American Idol" runner-up Katherine McPhee can enjoy even half the success achieved by Shiri Maimon, runner-up of the first season of Israel's version of the show -- dubbed "A Star Is Born" -- then she will be lucky.
With a powerful voice and Britney-esque looks and videos, Maimon, 25, has become one of Israel's most sought-after and popular pop stars since winning fourth place in the Eurovision singing competition last year, representing Israel with the moving ballad, "Sheket She'nishar."
Next week she will be in Los Angeles as guest performer alongside veteran Israeli artist Rami Kleinstein on his U.S. tour. Kleinstein has previously performed solo several times in Los Angeles, but this is the first time he'll be bringing his band, The 2nd Council, and his Israeli "Idol" protégé, Maimon.
"Singing together brings out the good chemistry we have," said the usually bubbly Maimon via an e-mail interview, which she managed to sneak in in-between sold out concerts and rehearsals for her starring role in a new musical called, "The Band."
Kleinstein first met Maimon at the "A Star Is Born" finale, when he directed the finalists before the show. He continues to guide Maimon, but this time as the musical director of "The Band," the musical version of the 1970s Israeli cult film of the same name. Following the success of her guest performance at his concerts in Israel, he decided to bring her to the U.S., as well. This will be Maimon's first trip to the U.S. She'll perform a few of her hit songs, including "Le'an Shelo Tilchi," which Kleinstein wrote for her first album.
While not an "avid fan" of "A Star Is Born" or singing contests of the like, Kleinstein said he believes that Maimon, whom he calls "a very talented singer," was one of the few Israeli finalists to use her success in the contest as a springboard to develop a music career, rather than an acting or television career.
"When someone wins 'Idol' and doesn't make a record and goes on to host TV shows where there is business, money and a future, it's as if they've caught a ride on this 'Idol,' where they're voted to be singers, and they don't sing."
As for Maimon's thoughts on "American Idol": "I've watched 'American Idol' a couple of times but not regularly. It's very different from the type of show we have here. The fact that the contestants have the chance to meet some of the great musicians and producers of the world, like Stevie Wonder, is amazing to me."
She counts first-ever "Idol" winner Kelly Clarkson among her favorite American singers, which is only natural since, of all the "American Idols," Maimon's voice and success on the Israeli level most matches that "American Idol" favorite.
Shiri Maimon will perform with Rami Kleinstein at the Avalon on June 5. For tickets, call (818) 986-7332.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Sweet sixteen and ready to rise
The Jewish Journal; May 18, 2006
Click here for original
Even though 16-year-old singer Liel Kolet was born on a kibbutz in northern Israel, she'd prefer to be called an international artist rather than an Israeli one. That largely explains why many of the younger generation of Israeli rock/pop buffs would know little about her. Nor is she routinely counted among the growing crop of Israeli pop princesses, such as Shiri Maimon, who also will be performing in Los Angeles later this month. She hasn't released an album in Hebrew for wide distribution, and her English songs don't get Israeli radio play.
And that's just fine with Kolet. While the dark, curly-haired singer remains deeply connected to her Israeli roots -- even while trotting the globe in America, Europe and Canada -- she has her sights on the big leagues.
"From the start the idea was to build me as an international singer," she said.
And there are parallels with her idol, Celine Dion. As young singers, both set their sights on international stardom with the backing of a dedicated manager (Kolet's manager is Irit Ten-Hengel). Kolet, like Dion, has a clean and wholesome image, singing heartfelt songs about love, humanity and "the children." On May 20, Kolet will represent Switzerland at the Eurovision singing contest, just as Dion, originally from Canada, did in 1988. The title of Kolet's debut album is "Unison," also the title of Dion's hit debut.
"I'm not trying to be Celine Dion -- we don't have same kind of music -- but what she achieved in her career and the steps she's been through and what she represents are an example to me," said Kolet in a very slight Israeli accent during a telephone interview. "She is an example of what an artist should be: She has an amazing voice and presence on stage that really touches to the heart of people. People come to hear her voice. That to me is what an artist is about."
Kolet has a powerful voice and range, but Israeli-born female vocalists have notoriously failed to make a successful U.S. crossover. With the possible exception of Ofra Haza, another of Kolet's favorites, Israeli divas usually fare better in Europe, which is generally more open to musical diversity.
Still, Ten-Hengel, Kolet's international manager, left her prestigious career as a music executive at Sony Europe to focus solely on Kolet, because she has little doubt that Kolet will achieve her dreams.
"Mark my word: When she's 18, she's huge in America," said Ten-Hengel. "She has the whole package -- voice, personality, love for music, passion and angelic beauty."
A select audience will judge for themselves when Kolet headlines the May 24 black-tie award dinner of the International Visitor's Council. Music industry bigwigs are expected to be there for their own look, including Grammy-award winning producer David Foster, who has produced several of Dion's hits. Ken Kragen, Kolet's U.S.-based manager, is the dinner's honoree for his production of humanitarian projects, including We Are the World and Hands Across America.
A veteran manager of such artists as Kenny Rogers, Lionel Richie, Olivia Newton John and the Bee Gees, Kragen came across Kolet two years ago when he saw a video of her performance at the 80th birthday celebration for former Israeli Prime Minister Shimon Peres. At the star- and diplomat-studded event, Kolet spontaneously called Bill Clinton to the stage to sing a duet with her of Lennon's "Imagine." It happened to be one of her best career moves.
"I realized this lady had amazing poise and ability and was a wonderful singer with an amazing voice," Kragen said.
Two years ago, Kragen introduced the aspiring starlet to American music industry executives in Los Angeles.
With no major American record deals were in the offing, Kolet spent the last two years building up an impressive resume of performances in Europe, particularly in Germany, where she has won several awards. Her management believes that she's now poised to conquer North America, making her upcoming visit to Los Angeles all the more significant.
"It's not easy," Kragen said. "The record industry today is much less inclined to sign new acts. The difference now is that there's a track record in Europe."
Kolet's participation in charity events has put her onstage with artists such as Elton John, U2's Bono and, most recently, Andrea Boccelli. She has developed a close working relationship with Klaus Meine of the legendary German rock band, the Scorpions, having performed with him last year in Israel.
Her first international album, "Unison," is a potpourri of ethnic-tinged love ballads, upbeat pop songs and music with a "message"; it includes three duets with Meine. Their take on Naomi Shemer's "Jerusalem of Gold" is the most Israeli song on the album, reflecting the Israeli pride she says she'll always carry with her.
As Kolet put it: "Singing for peace and everything that I do and my charity events are because I grew-up in Israel."
For more information on Liel Kolet, visit www.liel.net.
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Even though 16-year-old singer Liel Kolet was born on a kibbutz in northern Israel, she'd prefer to be called an international artist rather than an Israeli one. That largely explains why many of the younger generation of Israeli rock/pop buffs would know little about her. Nor is she routinely counted among the growing crop of Israeli pop princesses, such as Shiri Maimon, who also will be performing in Los Angeles later this month. She hasn't released an album in Hebrew for wide distribution, and her English songs don't get Israeli radio play.
And that's just fine with Kolet. While the dark, curly-haired singer remains deeply connected to her Israeli roots -- even while trotting the globe in America, Europe and Canada -- she has her sights on the big leagues.
"From the start the idea was to build me as an international singer," she said.
And there are parallels with her idol, Celine Dion. As young singers, both set their sights on international stardom with the backing of a dedicated manager (Kolet's manager is Irit Ten-Hengel). Kolet, like Dion, has a clean and wholesome image, singing heartfelt songs about love, humanity and "the children." On May 20, Kolet will represent Switzerland at the Eurovision singing contest, just as Dion, originally from Canada, did in 1988. The title of Kolet's debut album is "Unison," also the title of Dion's hit debut.
"I'm not trying to be Celine Dion -- we don't have same kind of music -- but what she achieved in her career and the steps she's been through and what she represents are an example to me," said Kolet in a very slight Israeli accent during a telephone interview. "She is an example of what an artist should be: She has an amazing voice and presence on stage that really touches to the heart of people. People come to hear her voice. That to me is what an artist is about."
Kolet has a powerful voice and range, but Israeli-born female vocalists have notoriously failed to make a successful U.S. crossover. With the possible exception of Ofra Haza, another of Kolet's favorites, Israeli divas usually fare better in Europe, which is generally more open to musical diversity.
Still, Ten-Hengel, Kolet's international manager, left her prestigious career as a music executive at Sony Europe to focus solely on Kolet, because she has little doubt that Kolet will achieve her dreams.
"Mark my word: When she's 18, she's huge in America," said Ten-Hengel. "She has the whole package -- voice, personality, love for music, passion and angelic beauty."
A select audience will judge for themselves when Kolet headlines the May 24 black-tie award dinner of the International Visitor's Council. Music industry bigwigs are expected to be there for their own look, including Grammy-award winning producer David Foster, who has produced several of Dion's hits. Ken Kragen, Kolet's U.S.-based manager, is the dinner's honoree for his production of humanitarian projects, including We Are the World and Hands Across America.
A veteran manager of such artists as Kenny Rogers, Lionel Richie, Olivia Newton John and the Bee Gees, Kragen came across Kolet two years ago when he saw a video of her performance at the 80th birthday celebration for former Israeli Prime Minister Shimon Peres. At the star- and diplomat-studded event, Kolet spontaneously called Bill Clinton to the stage to sing a duet with her of Lennon's "Imagine." It happened to be one of her best career moves.
"I realized this lady had amazing poise and ability and was a wonderful singer with an amazing voice," Kragen said.
Two years ago, Kragen introduced the aspiring starlet to American music industry executives in Los Angeles.
With no major American record deals were in the offing, Kolet spent the last two years building up an impressive resume of performances in Europe, particularly in Germany, where she has won several awards. Her management believes that she's now poised to conquer North America, making her upcoming visit to Los Angeles all the more significant.
"It's not easy," Kragen said. "The record industry today is much less inclined to sign new acts. The difference now is that there's a track record in Europe."
Kolet's participation in charity events has put her onstage with artists such as Elton John, U2's Bono and, most recently, Andrea Boccelli. She has developed a close working relationship with Klaus Meine of the legendary German rock band, the Scorpions, having performed with him last year in Israel.
Her first international album, "Unison," is a potpourri of ethnic-tinged love ballads, upbeat pop songs and music with a "message"; it includes three duets with Meine. Their take on Naomi Shemer's "Jerusalem of Gold" is the most Israeli song on the album, reflecting the Israeli pride she says she'll always carry with her.
As Kolet put it: "Singing for peace and everything that I do and my charity events are because I grew-up in Israel."
For more information on Liel Kolet, visit www.liel.net.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Is Tel Aviv really that apathetic?
Jerusalem Post, Metro; March 24, 2006
The stereotypical image of Tel Avivians' political attitudes was aptly reflected when members of the National Union-NRP party took a stroll through the city's Rehov Lilienblum nightlife hub recently.
MKs Arieh Eldad, Effie Eitam and party member Yehoar Gal paid a surprise visit to the bar compound to bring their right-wing/religious message beyond the party's natural constituency.
'The main idea of coming here is to say that at the end of the day, despite our differences and the major dispute we face, we are one nation,' said Eitam.
As party representatives sat at various pubs over beer and casual conversation with Tel Aviv bar hoppers, activists handed out postcards bearing pictures of 'square'-looking right-wing MKs and religious youth, with the tongue-in-cheek caption 'Do you want us to be your neighbors?' - an allusion to the party's stance against further withdrawals from Judea and Samaria. The postcard played on the perception that Tel Avivians - especially those who frequent the city's bars and nightclubs - generally don't like religious Jews and settlers and are likely to cast their vote for pro-disengagement parties.
'Don't you think the Land of Israel is the natural place for the Jews?' Gal asked a youth having a drink at one of the bars.
'I'm a person first and then a Jew,' replied the 18 year-old, voicing a common attitude among secular youth.
Such an attitude makes Tel Aviv the punching bag of some settlers and right-wingers, who consider the city rife with anti-Jewishness and national apathy. Similarly, religious settlers are often the punching bag of Tel Avivians and leftists, who consider the Land of Israel camp as religious fanatics who pose obstacles to peace and normalcy.
But is it fair to paint Tel Aviv in such broad strokes? A walk through the city's streets during the present election campaign revealed that the stereotype of Tel Aviv as home to the Left and apathetic, while containing some truth, is not always accurate.
At Shesek, a pub on Rehov Lilienblum, manager Roy Zakeyn, 26, a communications student, takes issue with the argument that in Tel Aviv people don't care about or are ignorant of current events.
'We have very strong ideals, I think,' said Zakeyn, who plans to vote - although he is yet not sure for whom. 'Yeah, we're in a bubble and people say we are apathetic, but we just live our lives. We're not going to sit at home depressed.'
For example, he noted that when Prime Minister Ariel Sharon was first hospitalized with a stroke in early January, the bar was a little emptier than usual, but the next day it was packed again.
'One day is enough for Tel Aviv,' he said, adding that Tel Avivians' persistence in living their lives to the fullest is one way to overcome the psychological war underlying life in Israel.
He does, however, agree that in general, secular residents of Tel Aviv don't care for religious Zionism or their forebears - the settlers - which generally aligns them with left-of-center parties.
'It's a big problem for us because we are ready to give up those places for a greater good. On the other hand, sometimes I see the Palestinians and say it's hopeless.'
Eitam, who was sitting over a beer at the pub next door, thinks that this divide between the secular and religious stems from the embracing of secular liberal values represented by the Israeli metropolis.
'Tel Aviv is the nearest environment to Western culture, to the liberal secular components,' he said. 'Many Israelis adapt a very extreme version of individualism. They find after a while that they don't have strong ties to the nation and the religious sector.'
If Eitam had stopped by one of the kiosks in the area, his thesis might have been questioned.
'There can never be peace between Jews and Muslims,' said one local kiosk owner. Pulling out his pistol and raising it to his chest, he added, 'I believe in this. Those people only know this.'
Of Moroccan descent, the kiosk owner thinks that the Ashkenazi elite, largely represented by the media, academia and Tel Aviv professionals, don't really understand the Muslims and therefore have a false illusion that peace is possible. He was against the disengagement and further withdrawals, even though he is not religious.
But his right-wing views make him neither loyal to Israel nor keen on voting. 'Some 85% of the politicians are criminals.' he said, He plans to pack up and move to Thailand with his non-Jewish girlfriend so as not to be in Israel for the pending world war he envisions between the Muslim world and the West.
When people categorize Tel Aviv as the leftist's paradise, they are usually referring to the high life of a city center that boasts the largest concentration of bars, cafes, restaurants and secular singles in Israel. But in the outskirts of the city lives a larger concentration of Sephardic residents who generally cast their vote for right-wing parties.
After the 2003 elections, Yediot Aharonot reported that 28.4% of Tel Avivians cast their vote for Likud, while 22.6% voted for Labor; Shinui polled 15.5%, Meretz 11.1%, and Shas 7.2%. These figures differed greatly from Jerusalem, which voted Likud 27.8%, Torah Judaism 18.1%, Labor 9%, Shinui 6.9% and Meretz 4.8%.
Sheinkin, the ultra-trendy street in the city center with designer shops and boutique cafes that had it's heyday in the 1990s, is often mocked as the anti-settler, bohemian center of Israel.
Elon Gilad, a Tel Aviv representative for the dovish, pro-marijuana legalization Green Leaf party, thinks that Sheinkin may be accused of leaning left, but not of being apathetic.
'I find that Sheinkinites are people with lots of ideals, but they're not involved politically. The people who actually live on the street are involved, care and interested - they'll probably vote for Hadash, Meretz or Green Leaf.'
Election statistics according to voting booths are not available for the most recent elections, but a Central Bureau of Statistics report on the 1996 elections (when the Knesset and prime minister were elected separately) showed that the polling station on Rehov Ba'alei Hamelacha (near Sheinkin) registered 78% for Labor's Shimon Peres and only 22% for Likud's Benjamin Netanyahu. Party ballots gave Labor 28.5%, Meretz 23%, Likud 8.5%, Shinui 5.5%, Green Leaf 4.6% and Hadash (the communist party) 3%. It was the young and artsy Florentine area that gave Green Leaf the most votes at 13%.
However, across all cities the number of Likud voters jumped in the 2003 elections, at the height of the intifada. These days, aside from campaigning NU-NRP MKs, one would be hard pressed to find enthusiastic right-wing supporters in the streets of central Tel Aviv.
This is hardly a surprise to Liron Zaidin, 24, chair of the Faculty of Zionism, a student activist group at Tel Aviv University aimed at raising Zionist consciousness on the campus. Zaidin, a student of economics, mathematics and political science, also heads the Orange Cell student activist group, which last summer distributed orange ribbons and anti-disengagement materials all over Tel Aviv.
Zaidin sees fellow classmates as becoming increasingly disconnected from their Jewish identity and the Land of Israel, and is disillusioned with the shallowness and selfishness he finds around him. He predicts a low voter turnout and more votes for the Green Leaf party, thanks to Tel Aviv.
'People care only about themselves and eating a better pizza or drinking a better beer. It's a sad thing that's happening to our country - people care less about the country and more about nothing.'
Earlier this month, a crew of Orange Cell activists roamed the streets of Tel Aviv to hand out postcards with a picture of the view of Tel Aviv from Ramalla - with the message that should the government give away land in the West Bank, Tel Aviv will not be immune to rockets attacks. They hoped that maybe if Tel Avivians felt directly threatened, they would begin to break out of their bubble and possibly move to the right of the political spectrum.
'There were single instances of people who said 'We don't want you here' - they were influenced by media images that show us as scary people,' said Ayelet Shiber, a student from Ashkelon who handed out postcards in the Florentine area. 'When we spoke to regular people, some looked at it, read it like any other flyer - which is part of the apathy - and said they agreed. I believe that most people agree with us, but the culture today tells them to worry about themselves.'
At Tel Aviv University, Gilad of the Green Leaf party confirms that the campus ethos is generally not sympathetic to right-wingers or settlers.
'I think it's part of a religious-cultural battle that we are having between the religious right and democratic liberalism,' he said.
During the summer, he recounted, the parking lot of the political science department was filled with blue and white ribbons in support of the disengagement.
Zaidin of Orange Cell says the university gave him problems for setting up an orange tent on campus.
It's due to this liberal ethos that Ayelet Finklestein, 19, a proud resident of the West Bank settlement Beit El, is not crazy about hanging out in Tel Aviv, which she considers hostile to her way of life.
'I just don't think they know. I don't think they really care, and if they do care, then they are usually to the Left because it's very cool and nice to love and want peace and all those nice words. That's the fashion,' she says.
David Bannay, a clinical psychologist who lives and works in Tel Aviv, took note of the divide between religious settlers and secular Tel Aviv residents after the disengagement and was disappointed with the apathy that people around him had toward the plight of the evacuees. While he considers himself secular, he tied an orange ribbon to his motorcycle not necessarily because he believes in Greater Israel, but to prevent a split in the nation and a major psychological and social trauma among evacuated settlers.
'People in general in Tel Aviv hold values of freedom and individualism - Western and non-religious values. Protecting Zionist values looks so outdated and primitive to people who are concerned with hedonism and personal success. Settlers are also a community, and they are fighting for the values of their community. This is strange for the people of Tel Aviv.'
But there is another factor that contributes to Tel Aviv's notorious self-absorption, says Bannay.
'Common people in Tel Aviv are busy with urban survival - you are striving for success and looking for this value of international, financial success. You are admired for wealth, beauty, artistic talents - making films and showing pictures. You are looking for entertainment, a varied sex life, drugs and good gossip. Actually you don't care about anything else. You are busy enough with the bounty of the city of Tel Aviv - the city that never stops.'
(BOX #1) Exploding the myth of Sheinkin
It is no longer fair to perpetuate the myth that those who spend their days in cafes on Rehov Sheinkin are either all peaceniks or apolitical. Sheinkin cafes are not as vibrant and 'in' as they once were, and many of the vanguard bohemian types have moved south to artsy Florentine.
Those who frequent Sheinkin cafes nowadays are usually not from Tel Aviv but rather 'tourists' from other Israeli cities roaming one of Israel's most popular shopping avenues, as a casual conversation with Sheinkin coffee sippers will reveal.
Shuli of Caesarea, a former Tel Aviv resident who was sitting at one Sheinkin cafe, says she's probably voting for Kadima, 'but as the best of all evils.'
She can understand voter apathy, thinks that Israelis are fed up with politics, and that Sharon was 'one of the last of the greats.'
'Fortunately, it's the US who's running the show, so I don't really have to worry about who's going to be chosen,' she adds.
Liraz, 24, from a city outside of Tel Aviv, says he follows the news closely and is probably switching his Likud alliances to Kadima. His friend Idan, 22, however, also from outside of Tel Aviv, doesn't know whom to vote for.
'I think I fall into the apathetic category,' he says.
Farther down at another cafe, Ricky, 20, of Hod Hasharon, is hesitating between Meretz and Kadima, but her friend, Ronny, a 20 year-old soldier at the Gaza border, is more certain. She's voting Meretz but as a default candidate. Both enthusiastically agree that if Sharon were healthy, they'd vote for Kadima.
Lian, 21, and Ortal, 20, of Moshav Yegel, a farm community generally aligned with Likud, are both voting for Kadima. Lian offers no special reason for her choice but says that 'all parties really offer the same thing.' Kadima gets Ortal's vote because she 'believed in Sharon's way and the man.'
So Kadima seems to be winning on Sheinkin according to this unscientific, cafe-style poll. That makes the cafes of Sheinkin difficult to categorize - it really depends on whom you ask.
(BOX #2) Tel Aviv settlers
When the residents of the Gaza settlement of Netzer Hazani had no viable housing options just days after August's disengagement, the community's teenagers decided that they would become settlers - in Tel Aviv.
They convinced their parents to set up camp in the park across the street from the Arlozorov bus station to protest their treatment by the Disengagement Authority - and as a wake-up call for the people of Tel Aviv, whom they perceived as apathetic or ignorant of their plight.
For about two weeks the park was transformed into a small tent village, where Netzer Hazani families ate and slept.
'It's in the center [of the country] where people worry about themselves - it's not Jerusalem,' said Nirit Tanami, 22, one of the evacuees.
Sabine Zarbib, a mother of two, said that the teenagers' parents initially discouraged the temporary Tel Aviv settlement for fear that the youths would face callous and uncaring responses.
'They replied that Jerusalem is already with us. We need to get to people who are asleep, who don't know who we are. We want to touch people who aren't like us - the leftists and those who don't care.'
Zarbib and the youths were pleasantly surprised.
'We were amazed at the good hearts of people. Even though Tel Avivians live mostly for themselves, there were many people - not only religious people - who, while they disagreed with us, said that they understand us and would help us.'
For Zarbib and some members of her community, the image of Tel Aviv as a generally leftist, anti-settler or just plain apathetic nerve center was shattered to some extent.
Tanami, too, derived satisfaction for having an effect on a city generally considered to be hostile to settlers of any kind.
'Leftists who came and saw and to whom we spoke- it affected them too. They accepted us very nicely.'
The stereotypical image of Tel Avivians' political attitudes was aptly reflected when members of the National Union-NRP party took a stroll through the city's Rehov Lilienblum nightlife hub recently.
MKs Arieh Eldad, Effie Eitam and party member Yehoar Gal paid a surprise visit to the bar compound to bring their right-wing/religious message beyond the party's natural constituency.
'The main idea of coming here is to say that at the end of the day, despite our differences and the major dispute we face, we are one nation,' said Eitam.
As party representatives sat at various pubs over beer and casual conversation with Tel Aviv bar hoppers, activists handed out postcards bearing pictures of 'square'-looking right-wing MKs and religious youth, with the tongue-in-cheek caption 'Do you want us to be your neighbors?' - an allusion to the party's stance against further withdrawals from Judea and Samaria. The postcard played on the perception that Tel Avivians - especially those who frequent the city's bars and nightclubs - generally don't like religious Jews and settlers and are likely to cast their vote for pro-disengagement parties.
'Don't you think the Land of Israel is the natural place for the Jews?' Gal asked a youth having a drink at one of the bars.
'I'm a person first and then a Jew,' replied the 18 year-old, voicing a common attitude among secular youth.
Such an attitude makes Tel Aviv the punching bag of some settlers and right-wingers, who consider the city rife with anti-Jewishness and national apathy. Similarly, religious settlers are often the punching bag of Tel Avivians and leftists, who consider the Land of Israel camp as religious fanatics who pose obstacles to peace and normalcy.
But is it fair to paint Tel Aviv in such broad strokes? A walk through the city's streets during the present election campaign revealed that the stereotype of Tel Aviv as home to the Left and apathetic, while containing some truth, is not always accurate.
At Shesek, a pub on Rehov Lilienblum, manager Roy Zakeyn, 26, a communications student, takes issue with the argument that in Tel Aviv people don't care about or are ignorant of current events.
'We have very strong ideals, I think,' said Zakeyn, who plans to vote - although he is yet not sure for whom. 'Yeah, we're in a bubble and people say we are apathetic, but we just live our lives. We're not going to sit at home depressed.'
For example, he noted that when Prime Minister Ariel Sharon was first hospitalized with a stroke in early January, the bar was a little emptier than usual, but the next day it was packed again.
'One day is enough for Tel Aviv,' he said, adding that Tel Avivians' persistence in living their lives to the fullest is one way to overcome the psychological war underlying life in Israel.
He does, however, agree that in general, secular residents of Tel Aviv don't care for religious Zionism or their forebears - the settlers - which generally aligns them with left-of-center parties.
'It's a big problem for us because we are ready to give up those places for a greater good. On the other hand, sometimes I see the Palestinians and say it's hopeless.'
Eitam, who was sitting over a beer at the pub next door, thinks that this divide between the secular and religious stems from the embracing of secular liberal values represented by the Israeli metropolis.
'Tel Aviv is the nearest environment to Western culture, to the liberal secular components,' he said. 'Many Israelis adapt a very extreme version of individualism. They find after a while that they don't have strong ties to the nation and the religious sector.'
If Eitam had stopped by one of the kiosks in the area, his thesis might have been questioned.
'There can never be peace between Jews and Muslims,' said one local kiosk owner. Pulling out his pistol and raising it to his chest, he added, 'I believe in this. Those people only know this.'
Of Moroccan descent, the kiosk owner thinks that the Ashkenazi elite, largely represented by the media, academia and Tel Aviv professionals, don't really understand the Muslims and therefore have a false illusion that peace is possible. He was against the disengagement and further withdrawals, even though he is not religious.
But his right-wing views make him neither loyal to Israel nor keen on voting. 'Some 85% of the politicians are criminals.' he said, He plans to pack up and move to Thailand with his non-Jewish girlfriend so as not to be in Israel for the pending world war he envisions between the Muslim world and the West.
When people categorize Tel Aviv as the leftist's paradise, they are usually referring to the high life of a city center that boasts the largest concentration of bars, cafes, restaurants and secular singles in Israel. But in the outskirts of the city lives a larger concentration of Sephardic residents who generally cast their vote for right-wing parties.
After the 2003 elections, Yediot Aharonot reported that 28.4% of Tel Avivians cast their vote for Likud, while 22.6% voted for Labor; Shinui polled 15.5%, Meretz 11.1%, and Shas 7.2%. These figures differed greatly from Jerusalem, which voted Likud 27.8%, Torah Judaism 18.1%, Labor 9%, Shinui 6.9% and Meretz 4.8%.
Sheinkin, the ultra-trendy street in the city center with designer shops and boutique cafes that had it's heyday in the 1990s, is often mocked as the anti-settler, bohemian center of Israel.
Elon Gilad, a Tel Aviv representative for the dovish, pro-marijuana legalization Green Leaf party, thinks that Sheinkin may be accused of leaning left, but not of being apathetic.
'I find that Sheinkinites are people with lots of ideals, but they're not involved politically. The people who actually live on the street are involved, care and interested - they'll probably vote for Hadash, Meretz or Green Leaf.'
Election statistics according to voting booths are not available for the most recent elections, but a Central Bureau of Statistics report on the 1996 elections (when the Knesset and prime minister were elected separately) showed that the polling station on Rehov Ba'alei Hamelacha (near Sheinkin) registered 78% for Labor's Shimon Peres and only 22% for Likud's Benjamin Netanyahu. Party ballots gave Labor 28.5%, Meretz 23%, Likud 8.5%, Shinui 5.5%, Green Leaf 4.6% and Hadash (the communist party) 3%. It was the young and artsy Florentine area that gave Green Leaf the most votes at 13%.
However, across all cities the number of Likud voters jumped in the 2003 elections, at the height of the intifada. These days, aside from campaigning NU-NRP MKs, one would be hard pressed to find enthusiastic right-wing supporters in the streets of central Tel Aviv.
This is hardly a surprise to Liron Zaidin, 24, chair of the Faculty of Zionism, a student activist group at Tel Aviv University aimed at raising Zionist consciousness on the campus. Zaidin, a student of economics, mathematics and political science, also heads the Orange Cell student activist group, which last summer distributed orange ribbons and anti-disengagement materials all over Tel Aviv.
Zaidin sees fellow classmates as becoming increasingly disconnected from their Jewish identity and the Land of Israel, and is disillusioned with the shallowness and selfishness he finds around him. He predicts a low voter turnout and more votes for the Green Leaf party, thanks to Tel Aviv.
'People care only about themselves and eating a better pizza or drinking a better beer. It's a sad thing that's happening to our country - people care less about the country and more about nothing.'
Earlier this month, a crew of Orange Cell activists roamed the streets of Tel Aviv to hand out postcards with a picture of the view of Tel Aviv from Ramalla - with the message that should the government give away land in the West Bank, Tel Aviv will not be immune to rockets attacks. They hoped that maybe if Tel Avivians felt directly threatened, they would begin to break out of their bubble and possibly move to the right of the political spectrum.
'There were single instances of people who said 'We don't want you here' - they were influenced by media images that show us as scary people,' said Ayelet Shiber, a student from Ashkelon who handed out postcards in the Florentine area. 'When we spoke to regular people, some looked at it, read it like any other flyer - which is part of the apathy - and said they agreed. I believe that most people agree with us, but the culture today tells them to worry about themselves.'
At Tel Aviv University, Gilad of the Green Leaf party confirms that the campus ethos is generally not sympathetic to right-wingers or settlers.
'I think it's part of a religious-cultural battle that we are having between the religious right and democratic liberalism,' he said.
During the summer, he recounted, the parking lot of the political science department was filled with blue and white ribbons in support of the disengagement.
Zaidin of Orange Cell says the university gave him problems for setting up an orange tent on campus.
It's due to this liberal ethos that Ayelet Finklestein, 19, a proud resident of the West Bank settlement Beit El, is not crazy about hanging out in Tel Aviv, which she considers hostile to her way of life.
'I just don't think they know. I don't think they really care, and if they do care, then they are usually to the Left because it's very cool and nice to love and want peace and all those nice words. That's the fashion,' she says.
David Bannay, a clinical psychologist who lives and works in Tel Aviv, took note of the divide between religious settlers and secular Tel Aviv residents after the disengagement and was disappointed with the apathy that people around him had toward the plight of the evacuees. While he considers himself secular, he tied an orange ribbon to his motorcycle not necessarily because he believes in Greater Israel, but to prevent a split in the nation and a major psychological and social trauma among evacuated settlers.
'People in general in Tel Aviv hold values of freedom and individualism - Western and non-religious values. Protecting Zionist values looks so outdated and primitive to people who are concerned with hedonism and personal success. Settlers are also a community, and they are fighting for the values of their community. This is strange for the people of Tel Aviv.'
But there is another factor that contributes to Tel Aviv's notorious self-absorption, says Bannay.
'Common people in Tel Aviv are busy with urban survival - you are striving for success and looking for this value of international, financial success. You are admired for wealth, beauty, artistic talents - making films and showing pictures. You are looking for entertainment, a varied sex life, drugs and good gossip. Actually you don't care about anything else. You are busy enough with the bounty of the city of Tel Aviv - the city that never stops.'
(BOX #1) Exploding the myth of Sheinkin
It is no longer fair to perpetuate the myth that those who spend their days in cafes on Rehov Sheinkin are either all peaceniks or apolitical. Sheinkin cafes are not as vibrant and 'in' as they once were, and many of the vanguard bohemian types have moved south to artsy Florentine.
Those who frequent Sheinkin cafes nowadays are usually not from Tel Aviv but rather 'tourists' from other Israeli cities roaming one of Israel's most popular shopping avenues, as a casual conversation with Sheinkin coffee sippers will reveal.
Shuli of Caesarea, a former Tel Aviv resident who was sitting at one Sheinkin cafe, says she's probably voting for Kadima, 'but as the best of all evils.'
She can understand voter apathy, thinks that Israelis are fed up with politics, and that Sharon was 'one of the last of the greats.'
'Fortunately, it's the US who's running the show, so I don't really have to worry about who's going to be chosen,' she adds.
Liraz, 24, from a city outside of Tel Aviv, says he follows the news closely and is probably switching his Likud alliances to Kadima. His friend Idan, 22, however, also from outside of Tel Aviv, doesn't know whom to vote for.
'I think I fall into the apathetic category,' he says.
Farther down at another cafe, Ricky, 20, of Hod Hasharon, is hesitating between Meretz and Kadima, but her friend, Ronny, a 20 year-old soldier at the Gaza border, is more certain. She's voting Meretz but as a default candidate. Both enthusiastically agree that if Sharon were healthy, they'd vote for Kadima.
Lian, 21, and Ortal, 20, of Moshav Yegel, a farm community generally aligned with Likud, are both voting for Kadima. Lian offers no special reason for her choice but says that 'all parties really offer the same thing.' Kadima gets Ortal's vote because she 'believed in Sharon's way and the man.'
So Kadima seems to be winning on Sheinkin according to this unscientific, cafe-style poll. That makes the cafes of Sheinkin difficult to categorize - it really depends on whom you ask.
(BOX #2) Tel Aviv settlers
When the residents of the Gaza settlement of Netzer Hazani had no viable housing options just days after August's disengagement, the community's teenagers decided that they would become settlers - in Tel Aviv.
They convinced their parents to set up camp in the park across the street from the Arlozorov bus station to protest their treatment by the Disengagement Authority - and as a wake-up call for the people of Tel Aviv, whom they perceived as apathetic or ignorant of their plight.
For about two weeks the park was transformed into a small tent village, where Netzer Hazani families ate and slept.
'It's in the center [of the country] where people worry about themselves - it's not Jerusalem,' said Nirit Tanami, 22, one of the evacuees.
Sabine Zarbib, a mother of two, said that the teenagers' parents initially discouraged the temporary Tel Aviv settlement for fear that the youths would face callous and uncaring responses.
'They replied that Jerusalem is already with us. We need to get to people who are asleep, who don't know who we are. We want to touch people who aren't like us - the leftists and those who don't care.'
Zarbib and the youths were pleasantly surprised.
'We were amazed at the good hearts of people. Even though Tel Avivians live mostly for themselves, there were many people - not only religious people - who, while they disagreed with us, said that they understand us and would help us.'
For Zarbib and some members of her community, the image of Tel Aviv as a generally leftist, anti-settler or just plain apathetic nerve center was shattered to some extent.
Tanami, too, derived satisfaction for having an effect on a city generally considered to be hostile to settlers of any kind.
'Leftists who came and saw and to whom we spoke- it affected them too. They accepted us very nicely.'
Friday, February 24, 2006
Real-life dramas
Jerusalem Post, Billboard; February 24, 2006
Do you ever wish for a life worthy of its own stage play and musical score? Well, even if you don't, the traveling ensemble of the Playback Theater in Tel Aviv will act out scenes from your past as if they are the stuff of art.
Last month, for example, at a "Playback Theater Playlife" performance at the cozy Simta Theater in Jaffa, a man in the audience related how his St. Bernard once won a dog show despite having had a messy, smelly "accident" hours before. The actors, all dressed in black and using only colorful fabrics as props, spontaneously dramatized the event, with a red-headed actress starring as the dog. A pianist heightened the humor with a playful, improvised score.
But Playback Theater usually specializes in more serious life turns - courtships, break-ups or family tensions - and as members of the audience share and watch meaningful, personal life struggles on stage, they learn more about themselves and others. This week, "Playback Playlife" will be performing in Tel Aviv on themes related to Family Day and International Women's Day.
"When actors listen and play out a story, the teller feels listened to, acknowledged and honored. It's very therapeutic. There is a catharsis," says Aviva Apel, manager of Playback Theater. She is also what is called a "conductor" of "Playlife" performances, since the traditional director has no role in such interactive work.
As "conductor," she chooses people from the audience and gets them to open up. The entertainment value and depth of the stories, however, depend on how interesting the chosen audience members are.
But Apel repeats: "We not an entertainment troupe. If people are just looking for fun, that's not our agenda."
In a more serious vignette, another woman from the audience related how the FBI forcefully took her and her daughter off a plane in New York to interrogate them after the attacks of September 11. "It took me back," said the teller of the performance.
But these public "Playlife" performances occur only about twice a month. The major work of Playback takes place in municipalities, schools, private institutions, communities and medical centers as an interactive alternative to formal lectures on sensitive topics. Hi-tech companies and other corporations hire Playback to open lines of communication among employees, to help them adapt to change, to improve customer service, to express concerns, and to create a sense of community.
"It gives people new ways of looking at things and ideas," says Nurit Shoshan, director of marketing and herself a Playback actress and conductor.
Sometimes they perform at life celebrations such as birthdays or bar mitzvas, to imbue important family milestones with meaning; it's "entertainment with an added value," says Apel.
The concept of this alternative theater originated in New York in 1975, when Jonathan Fox and his wife were looking for ways in which theater could have more of a social impact. Since then, Playback has grown into a worldwide organization with affiliates in over 30 countries. Apel, who worked as a professional actress in Israeli theater before getting involved with Playback, imported the concept to Tel Aviv in 1991.
Currently, the Tel Aviv ensemble consists of eight actors and two musicians, and they require a different set of skills than traditional actors - they are good improvisers, team players, non- judgmental listeners and, in a certain sense, altruists.
The ensemble will be performing for the public on themes related to Family Day and International Women's day at the Simta Theater in Jaffa on February 25, 9 p.m. and at Beit Tammi in Tel Aviv on March 2 at 8:30 p.m. For tickets, call (054) 428-7449 or (054) 595-8433.
Do you ever wish for a life worthy of its own stage play and musical score? Well, even if you don't, the traveling ensemble of the Playback Theater in Tel Aviv will act out scenes from your past as if they are the stuff of art.
Last month, for example, at a "Playback Theater Playlife" performance at the cozy Simta Theater in Jaffa, a man in the audience related how his St. Bernard once won a dog show despite having had a messy, smelly "accident" hours before. The actors, all dressed in black and using only colorful fabrics as props, spontaneously dramatized the event, with a red-headed actress starring as the dog. A pianist heightened the humor with a playful, improvised score.
But Playback Theater usually specializes in more serious life turns - courtships, break-ups or family tensions - and as members of the audience share and watch meaningful, personal life struggles on stage, they learn more about themselves and others. This week, "Playback Playlife" will be performing in Tel Aviv on themes related to Family Day and International Women's Day.
"When actors listen and play out a story, the teller feels listened to, acknowledged and honored. It's very therapeutic. There is a catharsis," says Aviva Apel, manager of Playback Theater. She is also what is called a "conductor" of "Playlife" performances, since the traditional director has no role in such interactive work.
As "conductor," she chooses people from the audience and gets them to open up. The entertainment value and depth of the stories, however, depend on how interesting the chosen audience members are.
But Apel repeats: "We not an entertainment troupe. If people are just looking for fun, that's not our agenda."
In a more serious vignette, another woman from the audience related how the FBI forcefully took her and her daughter off a plane in New York to interrogate them after the attacks of September 11. "It took me back," said the teller of the performance.
But these public "Playlife" performances occur only about twice a month. The major work of Playback takes place in municipalities, schools, private institutions, communities and medical centers as an interactive alternative to formal lectures on sensitive topics. Hi-tech companies and other corporations hire Playback to open lines of communication among employees, to help them adapt to change, to improve customer service, to express concerns, and to create a sense of community.
"It gives people new ways of looking at things and ideas," says Nurit Shoshan, director of marketing and herself a Playback actress and conductor.
Sometimes they perform at life celebrations such as birthdays or bar mitzvas, to imbue important family milestones with meaning; it's "entertainment with an added value," says Apel.
The concept of this alternative theater originated in New York in 1975, when Jonathan Fox and his wife were looking for ways in which theater could have more of a social impact. Since then, Playback has grown into a worldwide organization with affiliates in over 30 countries. Apel, who worked as a professional actress in Israeli theater before getting involved with Playback, imported the concept to Tel Aviv in 1991.
Currently, the Tel Aviv ensemble consists of eight actors and two musicians, and they require a different set of skills than traditional actors - they are good improvisers, team players, non- judgmental listeners and, in a certain sense, altruists.
The ensemble will be performing for the public on themes related to Family Day and International Women's day at the Simta Theater in Jaffa on February 25, 9 p.m. and at Beit Tammi in Tel Aviv on March 2 at 8:30 p.m. For tickets, call (054) 428-7449 or (054) 595-8433.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Breakfast Club: the dance-bar (review)
Jerusalem Post, Billboard; Friday, February 17, 2006
It's hard to know whether or not Breakfast Club was named after the John Hughes' 1980s coming-of-age cult classic starring Molly Ringwald and Emilio Esteves. One of the owners, a bartender with lots of colorful tattoos on his arms and who resembles the Judd Nelson character, said Breakfast (the shorthand name used by Israelis) doesn't care for or want publicity. In any case, the loud tracks of the DJ made conversation too difficult.
Perhaps this exclusivity is what makes Breakfast one of Tel Aviv's hot spots - a place where the city's 'brat pack' can feel at home. This dance-bar is as 'Tel Aviv' as they come - it boasts a good-looking crowd of trendy locals who like to smoke and pretend they live in Europe; the regular 'celeb' clientele; esoteric electronic music blasting through the speakers; and snobby selection. The owners' arrogant air demonstrates that when it comes to nightlife, they're the branja - the underground clique you can hear about only by being in the right circles. It is notorious for filling up only around 2 a.m.
The dance bar is underground, literally, so claustrophobics beware. Once you pass selection (which according to the selector is based on seniority and not beauty - yeah right), stairs lead you down to a black basement with a mini dance floor surrounded by tables and dark enclaves which are perfect for making out - not an uncommon site at Breakfast.
There is hardly any lighting on the dance floor; rather, the club is illuminated by black and white flix screened on a string of television sets hanging over the long bar at the end of the club. Black and white pix of historical figures plaster the walls behind the bar, as if to suggest that they are part of the exclusive Breakfast crowd.
But while it has its fair share of poza, Breakfast also has a loose, fun-loving, 'anything goes' vibe, where you can get plastered and dance without care, make out with more than one person in the same night, and pick up or be picked up without too many questions asked. After all, it's just a place to have some rebellious fun, just like the teens did during their infamous day in detention in the movie of the same name.
Rothschild 6
Music: Electronic genres and sub-genres
Hours: Usually from midnight
No cover
It's hard to know whether or not Breakfast Club was named after the John Hughes' 1980s coming-of-age cult classic starring Molly Ringwald and Emilio Esteves. One of the owners, a bartender with lots of colorful tattoos on his arms and who resembles the Judd Nelson character, said Breakfast (the shorthand name used by Israelis) doesn't care for or want publicity. In any case, the loud tracks of the DJ made conversation too difficult.
Perhaps this exclusivity is what makes Breakfast one of Tel Aviv's hot spots - a place where the city's 'brat pack' can feel at home. This dance-bar is as 'Tel Aviv' as they come - it boasts a good-looking crowd of trendy locals who like to smoke and pretend they live in Europe; the regular 'celeb' clientele; esoteric electronic music blasting through the speakers; and snobby selection. The owners' arrogant air demonstrates that when it comes to nightlife, they're the branja - the underground clique you can hear about only by being in the right circles. It is notorious for filling up only around 2 a.m.
The dance bar is underground, literally, so claustrophobics beware. Once you pass selection (which according to the selector is based on seniority and not beauty - yeah right), stairs lead you down to a black basement with a mini dance floor surrounded by tables and dark enclaves which are perfect for making out - not an uncommon site at Breakfast.
There is hardly any lighting on the dance floor; rather, the club is illuminated by black and white flix screened on a string of television sets hanging over the long bar at the end of the club. Black and white pix of historical figures plaster the walls behind the bar, as if to suggest that they are part of the exclusive Breakfast crowd.
But while it has its fair share of poza, Breakfast also has a loose, fun-loving, 'anything goes' vibe, where you can get plastered and dance without care, make out with more than one person in the same night, and pick up or be picked up without too many questions asked. After all, it's just a place to have some rebellious fun, just like the teens did during their infamous day in detention in the movie of the same name.
Rothschild 6
Music: Electronic genres and sub-genres
Hours: Usually from midnight
No cover
Friday, January 20, 2006
Shylock lives down to its name (bar review)
Jerusalem Post, Billboard; January 20, 2006
There's no major reason behind the name Shylock - a new bar off Masrik Square, says co-owner Mordi Meshel, now 10 years in the Tel Aviv nightlife business.
While buying furniture for the place at the Jaffa flea market, a huge portrait of Shakespeare caught his eye. The imposing painting now hangs near the entrance, and it inspired the name. The most recent film version of The Merchant of Venice was playing at the time, and the owners were simply taken by the name of the character of the Jewish miser, Shylock.
Meshel, who also owns Post Cafe on King George, envisioned Shylock as a bona-fide, down-to-earth, low-key neighborhood pub. There are no real neighborhood pubs in the Rabin Square area - a place to unwind after work with friends or stroll into late at night wearing winter sweats. With its warm and mellow atmosphere, created by the old wooden furniture, lamps, paintings and jazzy music, Shylock fills a void.
Meshel's Georgian mother cooks many of the items on the modest menu, from the chopped liver to the soups. The kitchen is at the end of the bar, since Shylock is very compact, but it serves up finger foods, sandwiches and toasts. There are about a dozen wooden tables, and most of the furniture hails from Jaffa. Even the well- stocked alcohol shelf was once a pharmacist's medicine cabinet, and the old-fashioned Israeli floor tiles remain intact.
Mama's homemade vegetable soup hit the spot on a winter night, but it was served with bread that looked and tasted like it came out of a supermarket loaf. Then I looked around at the old furniture, the former medicine cabinet, the tiny kitchen, the chachka paintings carefully put together with minimal investment - and suddenly the name of the place made sense.
There's no major reason behind the name Shylock - a new bar off Masrik Square, says co-owner Mordi Meshel, now 10 years in the Tel Aviv nightlife business.
While buying furniture for the place at the Jaffa flea market, a huge portrait of Shakespeare caught his eye. The imposing painting now hangs near the entrance, and it inspired the name. The most recent film version of The Merchant of Venice was playing at the time, and the owners were simply taken by the name of the character of the Jewish miser, Shylock.
Meshel, who also owns Post Cafe on King George, envisioned Shylock as a bona-fide, down-to-earth, low-key neighborhood pub. There are no real neighborhood pubs in the Rabin Square area - a place to unwind after work with friends or stroll into late at night wearing winter sweats. With its warm and mellow atmosphere, created by the old wooden furniture, lamps, paintings and jazzy music, Shylock fills a void.
Meshel's Georgian mother cooks many of the items on the modest menu, from the chopped liver to the soups. The kitchen is at the end of the bar, since Shylock is very compact, but it serves up finger foods, sandwiches and toasts. There are about a dozen wooden tables, and most of the furniture hails from Jaffa. Even the well- stocked alcohol shelf was once a pharmacist's medicine cabinet, and the old-fashioned Israeli floor tiles remain intact.
Mama's homemade vegetable soup hit the spot on a winter night, but it was served with bread that looked and tasted like it came out of a supermarket loaf. Then I looked around at the old furniture, the former medicine cabinet, the tiny kitchen, the chachka paintings carefully put together with minimal investment - and suddenly the name of the place made sense.
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