Hit songs give a glimpse into the Israel psyche

I’ve been in Israel making good use of public transport. Whether it’s a taxi or bus, more often than not, the radio is on and after a while, you start recognising the songs. So what are Israelis listening to almost three years after 7 October? 

On the latest published Israeli chart from Galgalatz, the popular music station of the Israel Defense Forces-run Army Radio, the number one song is Avi HaTahol, by Israeli singer Roei Adam. It’s also number one on Spotify’s weekly Israel chart. The song takes its name from a famous tough-guy gangster character in the Israeli television series The Arbitrator, but the song isn’t about war or tough guys. It’s about a breakup and a man who can’t move on even though his ex-girlfriend already has. 

Elsewhere near the top of the Galgalatz chart are Eich Shehi Rokedet (The Way She Dances) by Eden Hason, Ofek Adanek, and Agam Buhbut; Yalda Metorefet (Crazy Girl) by Bar Tzabary; and Monolog (Monologue) by Ness & Stilla. 

Ness & Stilla are perhaps the most striking example of how, in the almost three years since 7 October, Israel’s soundtrack has changed dramatically. 

In November 2023, the Israeli hip-hop duo released Harbu Darbu (War and Blows), an Arabic-derived expression associated with mayhem or fighting. Written out of the anger that followed 7 October, it became one of the defining Israeli songs of the early war. Now they’re near the top of the charts with a fast, playful song about a couple arguing and failing to listen to each other. 

In the immediate aftermath of the massacre, the music was filled with war, grief, G-d, survival, and togetherness. Today, those themes are sharing space with love, dancing, heartbreak, and ordinary life. 

Music can tell us something about where a society is. Like the films people watch, the jokes they tell, and the words they use, songs don’t simply reflect what people are thinking and feeling. They can also help shape them. Earlier this year, researchers Yuval Benziman of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and Roy Katz of Reichman University published a study examining the music most played on Israeli radio during the first three months after 7 October. One of their most interesting findings was what Israelis didn’t listen to. 

In times of trauma, people often turn to familiar music, finding comfort in nostalgia. But Israelis largely did the opposite. Eight of the 10 most-played songs during those first three months were created after the war began and responded directly to it. It was as though the old songs, and perhaps even the old language, were no longer enough to explain what had happened. The most-played was Eyal Golan’s Am Yisrael Chai (The People of Israel Live), released less than two weeks after the Hamas attack. Its message was one of Jewish survival, faith, unity, and the hope that the hostages would come home. 

Other new songs spoke about the Nova festival, southern Israel, and a country that was bleeding. But two of the 10 most-played songs had predated 7 October and suddenly acquired new relevance. Their titles tell you why: Getting Over Depression and Things Will Get Better. The former was re-recorded with a defence force band after the war began. 

The researchers describe a society in shock, trying to make sense of a reality for which its existing cultural vocabulary seemed inadequate. And G-d was everywhere. Five of the 10 most-played songs had a religious or faith orientation. Israelis sang Shema Yisrael. They sang about redemption, prayer, and someone watching from above. At a moment when their physical security had collapsed, the music reflected a search for another source of protection, meaning, and hope. 

Mizrahi music was also prominent. Most of the 10 most-played songs were Mizrahi or performed by Mizrahi artists. Mizrahi, literally “Eastern”, broadly describes music rooted in the cultures of Jews from the Middle East and North Africa, mixed over time with Israeli pop and other influences. For decades, this music was largely excluded from mainstream Israeli radio, whose early musical establishment was predominantly Ashkenazi and European. However, from the 1980s onwards, Mizrahi music gradually moved from the margins to the centre. 

So 7 October didn’t create that transformation, but it revealed how complete it had become. When Israelis needed music to express a national trauma, the old predominantly Ashkenazi soundtrack for national mourning was no longer the automatic choice. 

For all the grief, those first post-7 October songs were also remarkably hopeful. Again and again they moved from darkness towards light, from pain towards recovery. They spoke about being together, bringing people home, and believing better days would come. Almost three years later, perhaps the change in the soundtrack tells us something about what those better days look like. Israelis are listening to songs about dancing and falling in and out of love again. 

I don’t think that means they’ve moved on from 7 October. Spend any time here and it’s difficult to argue that they have. The war, reserve duty, bereavement, and the arguments over what happened that day remain part of everyday conversation. 

But perhaps something more complicated has happened. The extraordinary has become ordinary. War and ordinary life now occupy the same space. A person can spend weeks on reserve duty and come home to take his children to school. Israelis argue about Gaza or Iran over lunch and dance at a wedding that evening. Grief and normality don’t take turns. In some ways, life in Israel has always been like this. 

Culture isn’t an opinion poll. A song reaching number one can’t tell us how Israelis will vote or what they think about the war. But it can tell us something about what people need. Immediately after 7 October, Israelis needed new songs to name what had happened. Now, love, dancing, and arguments between partners are filling the charts again. Faith is still there. So is the Mizrahi sound that has come to dominate Israeli popular culture. And underneath it all, 7 October hasn’t gone away. Israelis have simply learned to live alongside it. 

• Paula Slier is an international journalist, war correspondent, and speaker who has reported from conflict zones across the Middle East, Africa, and Europe. Her work focuses on geopolitics, modern conflict, information warfare, and the battle for truth.