Idan, who doesn't need people to understand his native language

Text by Maxim Behar

In Sofia, he barely managed to fill a specially built small hall with interesting figures, but tickets are sold out months before his concerts in New York’s Madison Square Garden. On the squares of Tel Aviv, he usually gathers more spectators than the biggest recent protests against the Israeli government.

If you meet Idan Raichel in the mall in Sofia (we walked with him there), you might think he’s just an ordinary tourist from the Middle East who came to buy new sneakers because his old ones are worn out. But only if you exchange a few words you’ll actually feel the enormous intellectual wave 
radiating from him at a tremendous speed because every word of his is a precisely aimed shot hitting its target, and every minute of his silence is a sigh to understand what has been said…

While you’re talking to each other, of course.

But on stage, it’s different.

There are words combined with chords, smiles, and incredible messages that keep you awake at night until you figure them out. It’s all in his native Hebrew. In fact, Idan is not a singer, probably not even an artist; he’s simply a universe that broadcasts daily messages, understandable to everyone in the world regardless of religion, nationality, or ideologies.

We stand in a corner of the “Nu Boyana” film center. I’ve just persuaded him to send a radio message in Bulgarian to those we invite to his concert here in a few days. As we sip our coffee, I ask him how he manages with so many people on stage, almost everyone from a different nationality.

“Chaver (friend in Hebrew), well, that’s the whole concept of my art. They learn from me, and I learn from them. My Iraqi drummer is not my colleague; he’s my friend, and that’s the secret to the huge success of my band, that now has about 120 members. Can you imagine — 120 people on stage in perfect sync? It’s the same for our Ethiopian singer, for my other colleagues from different nationalities… We play and sing as friends, and we have only one goal: to do it professionally and to show the world that many things can be achieved if we are united.”

Idan always looks into the eyes while he speaks. When I ask him if he has opponents in Israel, for example, singing together with Palestinians, he lightly smiles and adds: 

“Well, that’s exactly what I’m telling you; my art sends messages against racism, against differences and hatred among people; if we can do it, then everyone can… I can sing with any good person in the world who matches my style.” 

And when I ask him what his style is, the answer is —

Well, something between the Middle East, Africa, and Latin America taken together, well mixed and arranged in melody, feeling, and lyrics. He claims that there are three things that unite the people of his group — each one of them is a great solo musician, they all know how to be together on stage and complement each other, and… most importantly, according to him — they all are just good people. 

He speaks briefly, clearly, slowly, and thoughtfully, just as he sings on stage, and while I ask him something about his life, he notices the piano in the corner of the large old-fashioned foyer outside the studio. He sits behind it and, barely touching the keys, starts singing “Mon Amour,” his emblematic song in whose video people from dozens of nationalities sing.

“Well, that’s what I want to tell you — Idan smiles effortlessly. I love this life; I love all people. Often, I don’t know which city I’m in, I don’t know what time it is, or even what day it is; in my head, there’s only music, which unites. I want to show that when we are together, and we are being good, we can change the world, we can stop wars, and have a completely different life.

Just a few years ago, Idan Raichel launched his project Shevet Achin Veachayot (Tribe of Brothers and Sisters), with which he wanted to unite his country shaken by a series of elections, protests, and deep internal division. Part of it was the song with the same name sung by dozens of Israelis from around the world; just as many years ago, Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie sang “We Are the World”…

The song became an inspiration for millions of people around the world. It targeted Idan’s compatriots worldwide, but it was as if it had a message for all nations, religions, and ways of life. … 

We have to make another series of recordings in the studio to promote his upcoming concert in Sofia, so we quickly finish our coffee, leaving the piano in the middle of the song. As we walk through the endless corridors, I stop him with a question: why does he sing only in Hebrew after all? If he tried with English, his songs would reach hundreds of millions… He smiles again, friendly, puts his hand on my shoulder, stops to look at me well, and says, 

“For me, Hebrew is the most melodic language in the world… And as for understanding, my music is such that you don’t need to know the language to understand it. With my music, I go directly into the souls of my listeners, and they understand me perfectly.”

He was right; although quite boutique, his concert in Sofia went so well that everyone sang his songs in a language they didn’t know; they knew them really by heart, and in their eyes, there was what Idan wanted most — a desire for the world to change for the better.

Text to the picture: Maxim Behar and Idan Raichel, Sofia, August 2016