There is something a little tiring about routine. You seem to get used to her, like to anything, but she wears you out without you knowing. The ritual can be very pleasant, but also catches you in places you don’t notice. From work back home, from this phone to another phone. A repeating loop. And among all these, there are the nights when I tell myself – that it’s time for something a little different. Or completely different. The house where I can get out of my normal, conformist skin, the place where you can close your eyes and shout out your dreams. the barbie
There are people for whom music is a livelihood, for me music is an escape. It’s the place I go to when I’m uncomfortable, when it’s complex, when it’s unpleasant – and Barbie is the clear symbol of that. It doesn’t look like that from the outside because this area is painted all gray anyway, but inside? This is where color reigns supreme. Outside is a city, inside is a carnival. What stands out in particular is this darkness. The darkness that erases every external sign. The lights are on on the stage with a dizzying noise, but beyond that everything is swallowed up. Everyone comes with their own troubles but hides behind the darkness, able to pretend to be something else. In other words, for one moment I too can be a tona, at least for two hours, until the light comes on – because only when the lights really come on, and there is no more encore, it’s over.
Gray outside, carnival inside. The Barbie in Corona (Photo: Ilya Melnikov)
The launch of “Bor and the people of time”, where I got to love (truly and closely) Nechi Nech. Through the “black business” party, where I momentarily returned to being a child again. The reunion performance of Ehud Banai and the refugees, where even though I barely had a concept in the 80s, I knew how to shout all the words of “Asylum City”. And together with them Shalom Hanoch and the Future Gang, Rona Keenan and the Backyard, Peled and Danny Sanderson, Alon Olarchik and Shabak S, Noam Rotem and Hadg Nahsh. Each such performance is a memory built frame by frame of stormy chords on stage, and emotions in the audience Maya Angelou once wrote that people will forget what you said or what you did, but they will never forget how you made them feel. Each of the artists, each in their own unique way, and this place that gave them a stage – made me feel a thousand things that I will never forget. The place Where I could cry or shout, dance (quietly, in the corner) and sing, all the I-die-before-I-do-in-the-outside world I guess they call it home.