Music, and the arts in general, offer all kinds of rewards. They entertain us, captivate us, inspire us, and sometimes leave us with food for thought. And in the tough times, such as the seemingly never-ending passage of time we are all currently enduring, they can provide us with a little respite from the ongoing evolving sad events.
Aya Zehavi Feiglin gets that.
Nevertheless, she is not entirely sure she can get her mojo working and produce the goods regardless of the emotional lay of the land around her. The popular 37-year-old singer-songwriter is on the roster of the first Canaanite Blues Festival, taking place at Chan Hashayarot near the Ben-Gurion Heritage Center in the Negev, on September 19.
Zehavi Feiglin will be joined in the one-day program by some of the big guns of the national music industry such as Ehud Banai, Berry Sakharof, and Corinne Alal, in what the organizers says is “a festival oriented to an atmosphere of connecting, both on and off the stage, between the audience and the onstage activities, between the various musicians, and between everyone and the place.”
That is an alluringly positive vibe to send out, particularly in this dismal day and age.
It should be noted that musicians have been doing their bit since October 7 to buck up the spirits of evacuees and others who have suffered, directly or indirectly, from the terrorist attack near Gaza and the tensions up North. That, surely, has granted a little light relief and, possibly, even some emotional release. But what about the artists themselves? What do they get out of their selflessness and desire to do their part in maintaining at least a modicum of morale?
Has, for example, Zehavi Feiglin gotten anything out of it, herself, in that regard? Does it provide her with a breather from the doom and gloom, by virtue of the simple act of giving? I didn’t get the response I was expecting.
“Hand on heart, right now no,” she declares. “A few months ago, I put out a song, “Hey Ahot” (“Hey Sister”) that I wrote during the first few months of the war. At the time, I was very busy performing for everyone – evacuees, soldiers, funerals, memorial events – I did everything,” which all fed into the lyrics of the new number.
“I wrote about those experiences and the people I met. It felt like some kind of haven, something to hang onto. It was as if, despite the inferno happening all around us. I had a place in it all, and I could take it – the terrible thing that is happening – and put it into words and a melody. But that’s not there anymore.”
THE INITIAL rally round the flag seems to have petered out for all concerned. “Our place as musicians, which was very clear to begin with, has been shaken. There is less need now [for uplifting entertainment].”
That isn’t because things have improved significantly, if anything, they have deteriorated. However, earth-shattering physical and emotional upheaval, albeit horrendous, can, if it goes on for a while, become the norm.
“It is now routine, even if it is terrible,” she says, “but, sadly, life has become habitual, mundane, really bad, and prosaic.”
So, where does that leave Zehavi Feiglin and her creative professional counterparts?
“The role of the artist in comforting, bringing joy, and encouraging, is no longer the same as it was during the first few months [of the war],” she notes, adding that it is not about pushing back against the tragedy and its debilitating ramifications, to the point of denial.
“I don’t want to be a source of escapism. It’s not that I disdain escapism in general. I need it myself. “But what needs to be done is still unclear.”
Confusion reigns. “I don’t know what this war is about. At the start, it was clear why we were engaging in war, and what we were fighting for. But now, it is like chewing gum. Why aren’t we bringing the hostages home?”
THANKFULLY, at the very least, what is going on here includes music, such as the roll out on September 19 down in the Negev.
Getting back to the music, I wondered what Zehavi Feiglin had lined up for the audience in the desert.
“I think there will be some relief,” she replies, just a little sarcastically. “I don’t really know, at this stage, what exactly I will be performing. I’ll try to imagine how it’s going to go there, swill it around in my head for a while, and see what comes out.”
Playing solo helps to go with the extemporizing flow. There’s no one else on the stage to have to coordinate with and ensure they are fully on board before you shoot off in some unplanned stylistic and rhythmic direction.
A throwback to an earlier, quieter time
Zehavi Feiglin is a bit of a throwback to an earlier, quieter time, when simple melodies and heartfelt meaningful lyrics were the order of the day, rather than more contemporary asinine textual lines and stock repetitive beats. She has a pretty hefty back catalog to call on from her days with rock band Kol Hachatichim Etslee (All The Handsome Guys Are With Me) which put out a couple of albums in 2010 and 2012, before she went solo. Thus far, she has released four records under her own name.
She takes an inclusive approach to her craft. “I like to do my own songs as well as covers, I embrace it all.” The latter includes a delectable rendition of Madonna’s 1986 hit “La Isla Bonita.”
“It is about feeling,” Zehavi Feiglin explains. “You can tell if an artist really loves the song they are covering. It comes from your voice but also from your heart.”
If that is the overriding mindset down at Chan Hashayarot the festival may very well provide some much-needed succor along with some calming breaths of clean desert air.
For tickets and more information: to-mix.co.il/blues-knaani/