Busting rhymes and throwing it down
Rap seems to be gaining momentum in Israel as an art form for the masses. All over the country, youth can be spotted on sidewalks, taking turns rhyming for each other, just as they did in New York during the early Eighties.
Jerusalem, known for its expressive residents, is home to a new monthly event called The Old Jeruz Cipher - a freestyle rap forum run by the Corner Prophets cultural initiative.
On the last Thursday of every month, including the upcoming one on March 31, hundreds of amateur rappers - from yeshiva bochurs to Russian immigrants to Arab nationalists - gather at the Daila Club in downtown Jerusalem for several hours of multilingual, open-microphone rhymes and beats.
Hip hop has always been synonymous with social consciousness, and The Old Jeruz Cipher is no exception. The Corner Prophets Web site (www.cornerprophets.com) says the organization's goal is "to inspire a new generation of Israelis and Palestinians to use art and music as a way of interacting... of finding understanding and common ground." The club itself is a project of The Israeli Committee Against House Demolitions.
According to Corner Prophets founder Dan Sieradski, the peacenik angle is indeed central to the Cipher, but is by no means the only thing happening there.
"It's important that everybody feels welcome to step up and rhyme in their own language. It's a forum where people can be heard, and where they can listen to others. So it's about coexistence, but it's also about giving something creative and cultural to Jerusalem. Everybody brings what they have to the table and just throws it down."
Sieradski, 25, came to Israel from New York on a Dorot fellowship, and runs two popular blog Web sites. He has his own music program on All For Peace radio, learns at the progressive Yakar Yeshiva, and is involved in many kinds of activism, all in addition to running Corner Prophets.
"I'm an American kid, straight off the boat, tearing sh-t up in Jerusalem."
At this month's Old Jeruz Cipher, social conscience will be taken one step further. Event facilitator and well-known local rapper Segol 59 has arranged for youth from the Negev development town of Ofakim to perform, which he says will not dilute the quality of the proceedings in the slightest.
"The crew from Ofakim are for real," says Segol 59. These kids "are being bused in to rhyme about their experience in the Israeli ghetto," he adds.
Ashara Attia, a 20-something rapper from an Egyptian Jewish family in Los Angeles, thinks the Cipher is unlikely to heal the world, but is a step in the right direction.
"Letting it flow, letting it come down, can be transformational for the people doing it," she said. "It's definitely refreshing. It's great that it's open to everybody; that's the whole trip."
A traditional cipher is "a bunch of guys standing in a circle rapping back and forth off each other. It's off-the-cuff, and they beat box and pass the spotlight off to each other. My cipher is different in that it's been taken indoors, with all the changes that come with that, including microphones, a stage, an audience and a DJ spinning beats," says Sieradski.
DJ Mesh, who teaches at the DJ school in Tel Aviv, spun at the first Cipher. DJ Koresh, who works with various Jerusalem acts, handled the decks at the second one, although technical difficulties meant they were forced to revert to old-fashioned beat-boxing.
Recalls Attia: "They're spinning mostly hardcore rap beats. I'd like to hear more old-school hip hop, raga, dancehall, drum and bass, even funky stuff, any kind of instrumental. This might challenge [participants] to develop their skills. It would be experimental and exciting."
Because the Israeli rap scene is still developing, says Attia, who has been rapping for many years, "the DJs are not as sophisticated in their experience of what hip hop is."
Moreover, Cipher participants might not be the rainbow of tribes sought by Segol 59 and Sieradski. According to Attia, "it's too homogenized, with too many first-year yeshiva, off-the-path Brooklyn kids in designer jeans five sizes too big. They're all saying negative stuff, because most rap and hip hop has messages about 'bitches and drugs.' Their style is very urban, and not so rootsy, organic or funky. It seems like they're not doing it for the experience; they're doing it for the attention."
Ideally, continues Attia, "rap is in essence conversation as an art form with a rhyme and music." The Cipher gives people a chance to "have a rhyme dialogue, but many take it as a battle. To collaborate is the key. To have a place where rhymers come together, and you see all the different styles and hear what everybody has to say, this whole mishmash of speech."
But for all its flaws, Attia still looks forward to the monthly Cipher.
"It's not really so gelled yet, but it's definitely good. It's an opportunity to create, to bust rhymes. You never know who will walk in. There are so many people that bust rhymes. People have different styles. Sometimes you see people who are just out of this world. You can make connections. It's a start to hear rap in all the different languages."
The next Old Jeruz Cipher will take place at Daila on Shlomzion Hamalka 4 on March 31.
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