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Hi, I'm Tessa Zitter, the producer of Identity Crisis. Today we're bringing you a special episode of Music and Conversation, which was recorded on Monday, June 29, on the final night of session one of our community Leadership program in Israel. Every summer, hundreds of leaders and learners gather on our campus in Jerusalem to study with Hartman's lead faculty to explore the power of Jewish ideas and strengthen our understanding of the challenges that impact Jewish life. We hope you enjoy Yehuda and Chenan Street. I'll pass it over to Yehuda.
B
We invited you here this summer for what was an extraordinary week of exploring the big ideas of our time, the struggles we're facing as the Jewish people and as the citizens and friends of the state of Israel, to wrestle with some of the biggest tensions of our time. Most of the way that we do that here at Hartman is with a lot of words in prose and in a particular register. But the truth is, and we all know this, to really understand a society that is experiencing all sorts of tensions, to really wrestle with more intimately the struggles of being alive at any given time, you want to study a society, look to the culture makers, the critics, the shapers of ideas who operate beyond prose and move us and take us into a totally different place. And for me, I find the culture makers and shapers who tell the most interesting and complicated story, who weave together different genres of poetry and prose and art and music come from the world of rap and hip hop. I am thrilled, truly thrilled and honored tonight to welcome the original icon of Israeli hip hop, a genre he invented called Zionist hip hop almost 30 years ago with the founding of his band Hadag Nachash, a powerful voice of both love and criticism here in Israel, a spirit social activist, a peace activist, a Yerushalmi, a Jerusalemite. Folks, please welcome to the stage Shannon Street.
C
This one is called Suits Khalifot. It's From Adan Mahash's third album of link, from 2005, I think maybe 2004. Okay, Left. Once again, this is Elhan Jekyll over.
B
Shannon. Thanks for being here. It's awesome to have you here.
C
It's very good to be here. Thank you very much.
B
Yeah, let's talk about art here and your music as both protest and patriotism. You know, I told you this before we started. This is the second time I've opened for Shannon Street. Believe it or not. In July 2023, during the height of the judicial reform protests, there was a protest here in Jerusalem, and I was asked to speak as a Diaspora Jew and little did I know that I was going to speak and then Shannon was going to take the stage and absolutely just demolish the whole thing. And it was kind of amazing. So that was your voice in that time for Israel, about that moment that was so divisive. And then just a few months later, a major part of what you started to do after October 7th was performing for people who had been evacuated for their homes. You went everywhere. You sang for army groups and miluim reserves and that felt like a moment of patriotism. I'd love for you to talk a little bit about how your music shows up both in those moments of protest against injustice and then times when you felt you needed to stand with the Israeli people.
C
In my opinion, there's no contradiction. The protest songs are because we stand with the Israeli people, so we're going to stand with them in protest and also in tragedy. There's no contradiction. We are always trying to make life here better. If it's a peaceful time and somebody wants to do away with the democracy, we have to protest that. And if it's wartime and people are evacuated from their homes, we have to try and help them.
B
What do you mean when you say Zionist hip hop? I don't know if you still use that phrase, but it was an old phrase that I heard you describe it. What does that mean to you?
C
Zionist hip hop? It was kind of a joke when we wrote the song. Actually there were different scenes in Israeli hip hop at the time. Everybody was claiming to be Zionist. We told a story. That specific song, which is called Zionist hip hop, is based on a television show that we all grew up on in the 70s and 80s when there was one channel here, it was a program to teach people English called Gabby and Debbie. And they would have a magic stick and with their magic stick they would go to different places in the world and speak English over there. So we changed it to different places in the history of Zionism. For instance, they meet Trunkeldor, but what happens isn't exactly what they expect. They meet Herzl leaning on the terrace, and what happens in that meeting isn't exactly what they expect. And the chorus is telling you Israel Zionist hip hop. So that's how it came to be.
B
And what has it meant to you to be a leader in this kind of music scene over the last 30 years? What has changed in the hip hop scene? You know, what about it remains political? How much of it can you just move into world music? What's also specific about trying to do hip hop here?
C
Well, that's actually a rather broad question, at least for me, because it's my life for the past 30 years. So I definitely saw Israeli hip hop being born and I saw it evolved and I saw it almost die and then come back again. And right now it's enormous. And there's dozens of excellent, excellent, excellent rappers in every city, which was unimaginable when we started in the 90s. So it's great to be part of that and to see how it unfolded in terms of protest. I think hip hop is still the strongest musical protest tool that we have in this country. There are some protest songs in other genres, but somehow in hip hop, it makes it a bit more concise and to the point. That flavor suits it well, the protest flavor. And I think, to be honest, and also maybe not so modest, the fact that we were writing protest songs from the mid-90s allowed other people to do so as well. It's like this is a branch, a type of Israeli hip hop from the get go. And we still write protest songs in every album. We're working on a new album. If there's one thing that we know is that it's going to have some protest songs in it and we're willing to protest until there's nothing to protest about. But somehow I can't believe really that that day is coming anytime soon.
B
That's the growth industry in this country, and there's things to protest about. I want to go back to that time right after October 7th, and when you were traveling around. I watched an interview in which you said that there were moments in that time where you felt you didn't have words. And I felt a tremendous pain hearing that, because your whole business is words, and a lot of words. The amount of words in a hip hop song are just totally different than in a rock song. So can you describe a little bit what that felt like, both as a musician and as Israeli, to wrestle with that?
C
I still get super emotional when I speak about this stuff because it's just so difficult. Such an enormous tragedy that hit everywhere. So I'll start with telling you as a musician, because I guess maybe it'll be easier for me to talk about it. And also, it was a special time because here we are performing three and four times a week for people who are evacuated from their homes or injured or even bereaved families. And our music, it's protest music, but it's happy music. And here are these people that are everything but being happy. And after a little while, we understood that our goal is to turn this group of bereaved individuals, of desperate, heartbroken individuals. Our only goal is to turn them into an audience. If they turn into an audience, we did our job. If they're singing with us, the chorus, if they're dancing, one hour a day, 23 hours, suffer one hour. We did our job. Now, bear in mind that we didn't have a stage. Sometimes we didn't have speakers. We were just us and they were just them. And we had to. We say in Hebrew, we had to win. This is the game. Win. This is the game. Your audience just buried its parents. Win. So as a performer, it was a big deal. How are you going to win? But you go and you win, and this was the easier thing to speak about. What can I say? Hopefully, bad times lead to good times. I think I'll leave it at that.
B
One of the things that I heard you say around that time when you were asked, why are you going to do all of these events? As you said, I understand what it means to strengthen those who are in suffering in a time of need, especially young people for whom this must have been just an incredible visit by you and a validation for them. What do you mean by Lehit Chazayk to be strengthened by that experience? What did you take away that made you feel stronger?
C
You know, it wasn't only adagnachash, doing good deeds. It was dozens of percentages of the Israeli society. Driving, making food. You do it also because it makes you stronger. You benefit from it. Of course, you're assisting people in need, but at the end of the day, you did something. That's what I meant.
B
Around that time also, you released a song that was a direct response to a different Israeli piece of music that came in around that time.
C
You did your homework.
B
Oh, yes, I did. I do. That's what. It's a living.
C
You should pursue it.
B
Yeah.
C
Thank you.
B
Thank you. That is the best validation I've heard all week, I gotta tell you. There was a very popular and very angry. Very, very angry song that took over the airways here called Harbu Darbu, which was kind of like a militaristic mobilization song. And it really. I don't want to say it was about really destroying everything in the path of the idf.
C
Yeah, it was like, we're gonna show you. Yeah, you mess with us, we're gonna show you.
B
It was a revenge song.
C
Yeah.
B
And you released a counter song.
C
So I did.
B
I wanna tell the story about the release of that song. Cause it's also like, you know, there's A fellowship of musicians. So to respond to music with music. I'm just curious how that came about for you.
C
Succeeded immensely. It was probably like song of the year. And my response song is called Khabru Dabru, which sounds similar, but it means connect and speak. Connect and talk. Khabu Darbu means destroy and hit in Arabic. But my song, you change around the letters and it becomes connect and speak. Of course, it didn't do half as well as Khabu Darbu, but it was really fun to do it. And I performed with the creators of Khabu Darbu. They're actually like, they're okay. They're okay. You know, they're not like crazy, crazy fascists. They're just like ordinary Israelis that were swept in the moment, you know, very humiliated, very angry. And that was their artistic response here and there. I meet artists in the Israeli music hemisphere, which I know are, like, way too extreme for me. It'll be hard for us to find some kind of common ground, you know, more than, hello, hello. But these guys aren't like that. And actually, when we had a show together, they suggested that we combine the songs, but we didn't do it. But they suggested it. So that also proved to me what I felt in the rehearsal studio, that they were like, you know, they just. They had to say something, and this is what came out. You know, they lack the perspective. They're young.
B
What were you trying to say? What they were doing was a patriotic song of mobilization. It was like that. That song that came out right after the Gulf War began In the early 90s, you know, a patriotic song. What were you trying to invite Israelis to do during that time when. When there was so much legitimate anger and fury and actually the country in some ways had to go to war, even though it was going to have corrosive consequences. Going to war creates damage elsewhere, but it also can create damage at home. What were you hoping that the message could be during that time?
C
I just. I also had to outlet my feelings, and my feelings, as always, are that there is something that can be done. I mean, if Israel can eliminate entire governments, it can also probably find peacemakers somehow and, you know, pursue that route somehow. We're probably capable of something along those lines, too. So the song was not exactly about that, but that's the feeling. The song says, you know, every year, Israelis are super surprised. Why? There's less traffic one month a year. And the reason is, it's because it's Ramadan and people have to get home to eat dinner. So One month a year, and it moves 10 days because, you know, the Muslims, their calendar moves. There's less traffic. And like, every year, people are surprised. You know, I went home, there was no traffic. It's Ramadan. So we have a very Jewish way of looking at things, you know, and sometimes we should broaden our view and have a broader understanding of what Israel is. It's land of the Jews, but land of some other religions as well. Land of the Hebrew speakers, but land of some other tongues as well. And these tongues and religions deserve respect and deserve to feel that they're part of this. And. And it would benefit us to think like that. That's in a nutshell. Thank you.
B
So in that spirit, one of the songs you released in the last couple of years was a song you released in Arabic, fully in Arabic, beginning to end. I don't know if it was the first song you did in Arabic, but it definitely shows up highest on Spotify. And it's a beautiful song about. About peacemaking and relationships. And what's even better is. Watch the video, because it shows Shannon just traveling around.
C
And in Nazareth. We recorded in Nazareth, and we went with a film crew and we filmed the process.
B
Yeah. So tell me about the journey to that song and. And what it meant and what it did for your fans, you know?
C
So basically, when I turned 40, I gave myself a birthday present to study Arabic once a week, and I was pretty confident that within two or three years, I'd be a professor. After 14 years, I'm fluent, but I'm not that good. And sometime during the middle of that time, I started writing songs in Arabic because that's what I am, you know, I'm a songwriter, and I love to express myself in that medium. And one of the first songs I wrote is called, which means My Broken Arabic. I guess it tells the tale of somebody who wants to speak Arabic or something. I can tell you the chorus is, I live here all my life, and I'm sharing my lyrics with anybody who's willing to hear just how broken my Arabic is. That's the chorus. It looks like you want a verse too.
B
Yeah, maybe a little.
C
Okay, so stop me.
B
I will not.
C
Salaam alaikum Yas habi wa alaikum assalam. That's easy. Salaam alaikum, my friends. From Nazareth to Rawabi, Shannon is here this time in Arabic. And the question is, why? Because I want to get to you as if there's no occupation, as if there's no governments between us and comfortable people Are here are present on this land, which some call it Israel and some call it Palestine. But that's enough with politics. I'm no journalist, I'm just a songwriter. And if there's nobody on stage, I'm coming immediately. And if the crowd is calling my name, I'm coming immediately. And for me it's just as comfortable as fool is comfortable with hummus.
B
I think you're going to perform it a little later.
C
Yeah,
B
yeah.
C
Thank you.
B
That's good. Have you found any common cause with Palestinian artists and musicians? Have you found a listenership among Palestinians? Is music breaking down any boundaries here?
C
What's that define Palestinian?
B
I'll let Palestinians define Palestinians. There's Israeli.
C
How can I answer your question?
B
Certainly Palestinians who live as Israeli citizens,
C
Palestinians over the green line perform with a Palestinian Israeli rapper named Tzaz and Motze Shabbat in Jerusalem. Like I said, I recorded in Nazareth. The producer was a guy named Anand Kassim. We performed here in Jerusalem with a rapper from East Jerusalem named Muzi. Me and us were very open to this kind of cooperation and we think it's important.
B
So going back to earlier in your career, some of the earlier activism that you were kind of famous for, one of them was the Shekel Festival where you performed or created actually major musical events around the country that you only charged a shekel for it. And the idea was to create cultural access, especially to people in the periphery. I'd love to talk a little bit about that. The mission behind that, what you think it helped create in Israel, Visibility, things like that.
C
Yeah. So we started the One Shekel Festival. I think 2001 was the first year we did it. And basically we had festivals held around the country in three or four locations every year that were worth about 150, 200 shekel entrance fee, but only cost a shekel. And if you didn't have a shekel, it was okay. And the idea, of course, was that financial gaps won't cause enormous cultural gaps, that people should be able to be exposed to a menu as long as possible of culture. And sadly, many times when they don't have enough money, that's not the case. And we held dozens and dozens of shows for more than 10 years, including in Arab towns or mixed towns and then in inner city neighborhoods, etc, etc. And we brought the biggest names in Israeli music every year. My wife was the CEO of the organization and when my third daughter was born, I have two sons and a daughter. So we figured it was a bit too much for the Household. But the One Shekel Festival still goes on with an organization called Tunuata. Aboot is running it. They changed it a little. They do it more in the neighborhoods, less big events, more like for communities. But I like that. I like that approach. I'm super proud of that. Then in 2019, we also did at Agna something called the Sticker Festival. It was the first time anywhere that we knew of that we held a music festival, which was a cooperation with 25 organizations here in Israel. And the organizations had to pay a fee in order to be part of the event. And at the event they put a stall and they could give out what they believed in, you know, all the pamphlets or whatever. And also we produced a little video, 2, 3 minute video for each one of the organizations and put it on our platforms. That was 2019. You all know what happened 2020. So that kind of like shifted. That festival is no longer with us. It's a Corona victim. But after October 7th, we started another NGO called 100 Fish. And what we're doing now, mostly, basically, I call it that we're doing cultural first aid. I know it's vague, but I like it vague because you never know in this country what type of injury you're going to need to deal with, will need first aid. So in the beginning, it was really those shows that you said all over the country for soldiers and misplaced people, etc. And now what we're doing most of the time is workshops. Every member of Anagnocha has already led at least two workshops, in the north, in the south, for Miluim Nikim, for whatever. Each workshop is at least eight meetings long. So I would go somewhere eight times and help people write songs about what's going on inside.
B
I heard that you described once in an interview that when you go to the band, because you've had a successful solo career, and as the frontman for Hadag Nachash, which has been enormously successful for decades, I've heard you describe Hadagnachash as a democracy, and I would say a functioning democracy, as these things go. And you have all these talented musicians, you managed to stay together for a long time. I'm curious how that's held together and how have you managed to kind of channel all of your talent into one really powerful super band.
C
So, like you insinuated, we don't channel all our talent into there because I have a solo career. But everybody in the band has a solo career. They're doing other stuff. And that's one of the secrets you know, but when we decide that it's time to work on a Dagna Khash, everything moves aside and we're working on a Dagna Khash. It is very democratic as bands go, you know, and more so with the years. I don't like being interviewed all the time. I like sharing that, you know, and we've been together since 96. This is our 30th year as a band. So there aren't like, there's the Rolling Stones. We have a ways to go before we reach them. But It's a while. Three decades is a while. It's 96 to 2026. Our lives changed. We all became parents, none of us grandparents yet. But that's going to come soon. Soon. And throughout the years, you know, people brought some good songs, people that weren't me, you know. So I understood that my thing to do is to embrace this song and make it mine, make it ours. And of course, maybe I would bring an idea for the brass section or for the drums, even though I can't play either. But we all have a lot of experience by now, so even if I can't explain it in musical terms, it still might be a good idea and worth checking it out. And once we understood that we're all in this together and long term, it made things easier.
B
You call democracy. We call it Bait Me Drush. So it's a similar idea. I'll go back to the periphery for a second, because in addition to serving the periphery and the community, communities that needed cultural access, it seems to me that so many of Israel's great music comes from the periphery. I mean, famously, Sterot is like a factory producing some of Israel's best music. And I wonder if you could talk about that a little bit, because it feels to me like it's not surprising that so many musicians want to serve the periphery, because many of them came from it. How do you understand that whole story of where music comes from in this country?
C
It's an interesting point. Maybe that was part of the success of the One Shekel Festival that people wanted to give back, or something like that. But the center is where the talent is maybe shaped and marketed, but it's not where it's born. Usually where it's born and first realized is in the periphery. The new voices are going to have to come from the periphery, the interesting voices, the ones that have a new sound, a new message, something new to say. Generally speaking, everything happens everywhere. You know, let's not idolize some of the music from the periphery. Sucks and some of the music from Ben Yehuda street in Tel Aviv. The middle of the middle is great. Everything happens, but we shouldn't close our ears to the sound coming from the periphery. We should be proud of every cultural activity that's happening in the periphery because it can enrich us all.
B
I remember back in the 90s, there was so much music and energy around peace. And in fact, it felt like the music industry was driving some of the kind of cultural imagination in this country about peace. Famous kind of musical moment was the concert after Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated, where this whole soundtrack of Israeli musicians kind of trying to give that story about peace. And it feels like some of those voices have become muted over the last couple of decades. I'm wondering if you see where you see the opportunity for music to play a more active role in resurfacing that kind of aspiration. The same way that you're doing with your Arabic song, I hope, like I
C
said, because that bad things will result in good. It happens in our life. There's this kind of movement, you know, up and down, up and down, up and down. And we definitely had a serious, serious, serious down. It's going to be with us for a while. I'm working with the post traumatic reserve soldiers, religious, with lots of kids, and I can tell you the down is going to stay with us for a while, wherever you look. However, when I listen to my release Radar Israeli Hip hop, new songs, I hear a lot of no bullshit element in the music, don't tell me lies, I saw it with my own eyes kind of thing. And that could be meaningful. You know, sometimes when people just say it the way it is, what they saw, what they felt, it can be beneficial. I'm hearing rappers speak a little differently.
B
Tell us about Jerusalem. This is your love. You've done a lot for this city. You've experimented with major social ventures. Tell us about your relationship to the city and what you've tried to do over the years, specifically for the city of Jerusalem.
C
So I don't have a very good memory and I try to use my remaining hard disk on the future and not in the past. But I was born here. I understand the city's uniqueness and its opportunities that only Jerusalem holds. The biggest one is that if this city can achieve peace, so problem solved. But if the rest of the country achieves peace without this city achieving it, problem exists. This city is where the key to the solution is hiding. It's here because this is where we have no clear majority. You have about 1/3 Haredim, 1/3 Palestinians and one third everything else. And if people can work it out here in a way that they embrace each other, they're proud of each other's existence and understand why the other group is important in building this place, not why their group is important. That's easy. We're the only one doing this, we're the only ones doing that. But what are they doing to help you if we can fix that puzzle? So I'm actually hopeful for the rest of the country.
B
Where did you see sparks of that? And you opened a club in the Shook for a while, right?
C
I had three buys, yeah.
B
And where did you see sparks of what you were hoping to achieve here?
C
I see sparks in the supermarket and I see sparks in the taxi when I speak Arabic to the drivers. And now I live right outside Jerusalem. So it's like it's a 25 minute drive from the center. The first 10 minutes he's going to be answering me in Hebrew, but then he breaks and he starts answering you in Arabic. And I see a spark over there. You know, we're suddenly conversating on a non political level, just on a human level. When you go to Kupat Kholim or whatever and the line it's multi ethnic people live together here. That just needs to be the narrative, that needs to be the story. They need to embrace it and be proud of. Doesn't need to be in the people's hearts. Something that's a temporary problem that all these people are here. No, that's the truth of the city, the truth of the country, the truth of the Middle east and the truth of the world. If it can be embraced here, it can be embraced.
B
What's the next 10 years gonna look like for you?
C
Mora Dagnocha I'm finally comfortable with the fact that I'm an artist. It took a while, but nothing does it for me more than writing songs and performing. I understand what an enormous part it is of my sanity. I really think I'd go nuts without it. And the world tried me a few times in Corona. No performing, every war, no performing. So when it comes back, I understand that I'm me again. So anyway, in short, I'll probably be doing more of that. I also plan to be at home more. I don't know how exactly those two things will work together. And I'm super proud of my kids who are 23, 20 and 17. My oldest kids are really in the beginning of, you know, becoming grown ups. And my daughter has to finish high school so interesting things at home too. Yeah.
B
Any musicians coming out of your household?
C
At least two, maybe three, at least. My oldest performed last week, his first show in Jerusalem in front of about 500 people on the Middle Chov. There was a hip hop block party and he opened for big Israeli names. And my daughter has an album and she's starting to produce it. So at least two.
B
Your life is music and that's where you come alive. I'm going to get out of the way. Thank you for being here at Harvard with us.
C
Thank you very much. Thank you for inviting me.
B
And one more time, Shannon Street.
C
Thank you. Thank you very much. Here he is again, Elran Dekel. I think he's the best singer in Israel. I do. He knows I think it too, because I tell him so. We spoke earlier about Arabayati al Maqsorah, my broken Arabic. So let's do that one. Any Arabic speakers in the crowd? Ah, we've met at Mahmoud store. Right. Okay. Sam alikum. Thank you very much.
A
Thanks for listening to our show and special thanks to our guest, Shannon Street. Identity Crisis is produced by me, Tessa Zitter. It is bittersweet for me to share that this is my last episode producing Identity Crisis. Since I'm heading off to graduate school, Identity Crisis will be turned over to the capable hands of our new producer, Michelle Siegel. During my three years working on this show, it has been a privilege to hear the ways that these episodes have impacted you, our listeners. I have relished each opportunity to meet you in person at Identity Crisis live events and hear how you wrestle with this content each week. Thank you for your dedication. Our executive producer is Maital Friedman. This episode was researched by Gabrielle Feinstone and edited by Josh Allen with music provided by so called transcripts of our show are now available on our website. Typically a week after an episode airs, we're always looking for ideas for what we should cover on future episodes. So if you have a topic you'd like to hear about or if you have comments about this episode, please write to us@identitycrisishalomhartman.org for more ideas from the Shalom Hartman Institute about what's unfolding right now. Sign up for our newsletter in the show notes and subscribe to this podcast everywhere. Podcasts are available. Thanks for listening.
This special live episode centers around Israeli hip-hop pioneer Shaanan Streett and explores the power of music – especially hip-hop – in reflecting, shaping, and challenging Israeli society. The conversation weaves between themes of protest, patriotism, identity, cultural access, and resilience in the wake of October 7. With musical interludes, candid anecdotes, and reflections on social activism, Streett illustrates hip-hop’s unique role as both a mirror and a motor for Israeli public discourse.
“There's no contradiction. The protest songs are because we stand with the Israeli people, so we're going to stand with them in protest and also in tragedy.” (C, 08:32)
“Our only goal is to turn them into an audience. If they're singing with us ... if they're dancing, one hour a day, 23 hours suffer, one hour, we did our job.” (C, 12:35)
“It was kind of a joke ... Everybody was claiming to be Zionist. We told a story ... you meet Herzl leaning on the terrace, and what happens ... isn't exactly what they expect.” (C, 09:08)
“There are dozens of excellent, excellent, excellent rappers in every city, which was unimaginable when we started in the 90s ... Hip hop is still the strongest musical protest tool that we have in this country.” (C, 10:29)
Loss of Words:
“There were moments in that time where you felt you didn’t have words. ... Your whole business is words, and a lot of words.” (B, 12:07)
Personal Strength Through Service:
“You do it also because it makes you stronger. You benefit from it ... at the end of the day, you did something.” (C, 14:55)
“Khabu Darbu means destroy and hit in Arabic. But my song, you change around the letters and it becomes connect and speak.” (C, 16:26)
“They had to say something, and this is what came out. You know, they lack the perspective. They're young.” (C, 17:57)
“One of the first songs I wrote is called 'Arabayati al Maqsorah,' which means My Broken Arabic ... I live here all my life, and I’m sharing my lyrics with anybody who’s willing to hear just how broken my Arabic is.” (C, 20:43; 21:49)
“We performed here in Jerusalem with a rapper from East Jerusalem ... We're very open to this kind of cooperation and we think it's important.” (C, 23:18)
“The idea ... was that financial gaps won’t cause enormous cultural gaps ... and we brought the biggest names in Israeli music every year.” (C, 24:07)
“I call it that we're doing cultural first aid ... because you never know in this country what type of injury you're going to need to deal with.” (C, 24:07)
“It is very democratic as bands go ... once we understood that we're all in this together and long term, it made things easier.” (C, 27:47)
“The center is where the talent is maybe shaped and marketed, but it’s not where it’s born ... We shouldn’t close our ears to the sound coming from the periphery.” (C, 29:55)
“When I listen to my release Radar ... new songs, I hear a lot of no-bullshit element in the music ... that could be meaningful.” (C, 31:43)
“This city is where the key to the solution is hiding. ... If people can work it out here ... that's the truth of the city, ... of the country, ... of the world.” (C, 32:54; 34:26)
On the Intent of Protest:
“If it’s a peaceful time and somebody wants to do away with the democracy, we have to protest that. And if it’s wartime and people are evacuated from their homes, we have to try and help them.” (C, 08:32)
On Art as Healing:
“Your audience just buried its parents. Win. So as a performer, it was a big deal. How are you going to win? But you go and you win, and this was the easier thing to speak about.” (C, 12:35)
On Peace and Broadening Perspective:
“Sometimes we should broaden our view ... it's land of the Jews, but land of some other religions as well, land of the Hebrew speakers, but land of some other tongues as well.” (C, 18:36)
On Jerusalem's Unique Role:
“If this city can achieve peace, so problem solved. But if the rest of the country achieves peace without this city achieving it, problem exists. This city is where the key to the solution is hiding.” (C, 32:54)
Live Performance of “Arabayati al Maqsorah (My Broken Arabic)”
“I live here all my life, and I'm sharing my lyrics with anybody who's willing to hear just how broken my Arabic is.” (C, 21:49)
Camaraderie and Collaboration Across Divides
Shaanan Streett’s music and activism are inextricably linked to the evolving story of Israeli society, especially in times of crisis and change. This episode brings to life the ways that art not only protests and heals, but also forges unexpected bridges – between communities, across languages, and through shared struggle. Streett’s candor, humor, and dogged hope provide both comfort and a challenge: to listen, to connect, and to imagine a more inclusive and vibrant cultural future for Israel.