Alt-J tonight and please God no war with Gaza in the morning
Taking a break from the day’s awful news to enjoy soaring harmonies among thousands of young Israelis should have been surreal. In fact, it’s just part of what passes for normality
David Horovitz is the founding editor of The Times of Israel. He is the author of "Still Life with Bombers" (2004) and "A Little Too Close to God" (2000), and co-author of "Shalom Friend: The Life and Legacy of Yitzhak Rabin" (1996). He previously edited The Jerusalem Post (2004-2011) and The Jerusalem Report (1998-2004).
The last time the English indie rock band alt-J played in Israel, it was summer 2015, a year after the last massive conflict with Hamas-run Gaza.
Coming home from their concert in Rishon Lezion that August night, and reflecting on the high proportion of army-age Israelis in the audience, I wrote that “Many of those who sang the words along with these very polite English musical innovators were fighting in Gaza a year ago. Many others, one deeply fears, will be somewhere similar in the not-too-distant future.”
Almost three years have passed, and those fears are right back with us again.
Taking an evening break from the day’s awful news to hear soaring harmonies under a full moon among thousands upon thousands of dancing Israelis in Tel Aviv should have been surreal. In fact, it’s just part of what passes for normality in these parts.
As we drove in from Jerusalem, we listened to Hadashot TV’s nightly news, broadcast on Army Radio, and heard military analyst Roni Daniel telling the country that Israel’s leaders don’t want another war with Hamas, but aren’t going to “play ping-pong” either — that is, they aren’t going to tolerate a situation in which Gaza’s terror groups open fire on Israel when they feel the urge, Israel fires back, and then things go quiet again if that’s what the terror groups choose. Quite what Israel’s leaders intend to do instead, Daniel didn’t say.
We heard Ronen Manelis, the IDF’s spokesman, recalling that Hamas has spent weeks trying to breach the border fence under the cover of mass “March of Return” protests. It’s tried tunneling, bombing and shooting, he noted. And having got nowhere — except, of course, in the myopic court of global public opinion — it is now firing rockets and mortar shells at Israeli kindergartens.
And then, after parking, walking a while and clearing security, we heard alt-J — with their medieval harmonies, their soaring “la-la-las,” “ahhs” and “oohs,” and their sweet songs about “where the wild things go” and “something good tonight.” For 90 minutes or so, Gaza and Hamas and rockets and terror receded.
There were so many people, and we were so far back, that we couldn’t even see how many musicians were on stage. (I’d wager just the core three, if pushed, but there may have been a fourth.) Close enough for a photograph to illustrate this article? Forget about it. But a cool breeze rippled through the Little Prince trees above us, mellow smoke clouds rose all around, the sound was crystal clear, and the music was gorgeous.
As three years ago, we were the oldsters in the crowd — a crowd, again, overwhelmingly in their late teens and twenties. A crowd that recognized every song from its opening syllable, drumbeat or keyboard plunk. A crowd that knew many of the lyrics — no small feat, given that alt-J can sometimes rival REM for incomprehensibility. A crowd that roared its delight when our visiting entertainers kindly told us that we were the best audience in the world.
And as three years ago, we were blessed to be there — to snatch part of an evening, along with our loved ones, a few miles away from the insanity. To hear alt-J in Tel Aviv tonight, in a vast throng of young, happy, army-age Israelis, and pray for no war with Gaza tomorrow morning.
