Conservative Innovators: Reviving Israeli Spirit Through Black Music

Abstract

In the summer of 2009 I sat with Shaanan Streett, lead rapper of the group Hadag Nahash (Snake Fish) in his house in Jerusalem. The group had recently finished recording its sixth album and was still deliberating what to call it. “We think we'll call it ‘Basalon shel Solomon’ (In Solomon's Salon),” said Sha'anan, “because most of the songs were written while we all sat together in Shlomi's living room,” referring to group member Shlomi Alon, whose nickname is Solomon. Perhaps in response to a rather terse “Umm” from me, he then further elaborated: “In a way this name is also our way to pay homage to albums like Badeshe etzel Avigdor and Mehakim Le'Samson.” These two titles require no further explanation for any Israeli music lover. Badeshe etzel Avigdor (At Avigdor's on the Grass) is a classic by Arik Einstein from 1971, representing the emergence of Israeli rock, whereas Mehakim Le'Samson (Waiting for Samson) is another well-known album by a pioneer group of Israeli Mizrahi music, Habrera Hativ'it (Natural Selection), from 1980. I recall this somewhat awkward conversation because its very awkwardness forms the subject of this article: it shows how hip-hop, traditionally the most boastful and triumphant style of pop music, can become apologetic in the hands of Israeli performers who feel compelled to justify their artistic choices. In particular I aim to explore the paradox by which artists claim their place in a transnational “game” while also explicitly trying to restore an Israeli national spirit by invigorating old ideals.

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