Aviv Bachar: From Personal Struggles to Musical Healing

Visiting Aviv Bachar's pastoral home, near the community of Michmoret, offers a glimpse into the foundation upon which his songs were built. Bachar, 39, is a celebrated musician with a vast collection of beloved songs. A few weeks ago, he unveiled his sixth album. From a young age, he felt a deep connection to Israel's wild landscapes, which heavily influence his work.

"I was born to a secular family on Kibbutz Afek," he begins our conversation, "the youngest of three brothers. My father's family has strong roots, with at least six generations in Safed, and before that, they lived in Turkey. I grew up in a very secular environment, but inexplicably, I had a strong connection and personal conversations with Hashem from a young age. People often find it strange that almost every one of my songs includes the word 'Hashem,' but to me, it's the most natural thing in the world.

"I remember, for instance, a special prayer I made to Hashem around the time of my grandmother's passing. We were very close, and after her funeral, when the gravestone was still bare, I placed a long personal letter in her grave asking her to convey my request up above. In a chilling twist, what I wrote came true. I wrote to Hashem, saying that I want to create songs that heal people. I sat for a long time by her open grave, pouring my heart into that wish. Since I began making music, something I frequently hear from people is that my songs heal them, lift them up, and illuminate their path."

I imagine it's a wonderful feeling to hear such powerful words.

"It's truly special in my life, but I always try to remember that I'm just a messenger for this goodness, not the one creating it on my own. There's a never-ending battle within an artist's soul between self-negation and the effort to express oneself in their work, but when you understand that you've been sent here to bring good and help others, you just try to do so in a humble, pleasant way. I know I usually have to work hard on my songs, but just as much, I know they're not mine. I'm aware that I don't have the ability to create new things but only to take things from above and translate them into tunes and words, thereby bringing them down to people.

"When I write and compose a song, I'm essentially taking elements from the upper world, things that can't be understood in our world as they are, and trying to dress them in form and body. Then, when people listen to the songs, the energy disperses and returns to being the abstract thing it was at the start. It's worth mentioning that this doesn't necessarily involve complicated or lofty matters; often, it's about very simple things."

The Hidden Light

"Speaking of music," Bachar continues, "I can say my connection to it began very early. In my kibbutz, they used to give first graders a musical test to check their hearing, and it was immediately clear I had a knack for it. My brother, who learned to play guitar, showed me a few chords, and hours later, I wrote my first song. In fact, I've been writing and composing since I was 13. From then on, I felt I'd found my place in the world; it's the best place for me.

"At 16, I realized conventional educational frameworks didn't suit me, so I moved to a goat farm where we got up at five in the morning and spent all day engaged in farm-related activities. In one moment, I went from being a kid listening to albums of big and small singers in his room all day to a teen living in a place without even electricity. Music was always very close to my heart, and because I couldn't listen to it, I had to create it for myself. I drew inspiration from experiences I went through, the wind, the forest, the animals, and to this day I rarely listen to others' music.

"After a few years on the farm, I began studying music at Rimon. It was very tough for me since I was never a good student in structured environments. I was there for over a year, but in reality, I attended less than half the time. When I'm boxed in by barriers and templates, something in me shuts down. At some point, I gave up on the studies and continued developing independently. Today, I teach one of the courses there that I couldn't finish."

Speaking of independence, when did you start publishing your songs?

"At 24, I started recording an album, but eventually decided to shelve it because I wasn't ready to release it. Two years later, I met Hadas Kleinman and we began creating together, but that album was also shelved. For many years, I wanted to break through. When I sang alone at home, I imagined myself like Shalom Hanoch, performing my songs on huge stages. For years, I felt like at any moment, people would discover who I am and what I could bring to the world. After a lot of effort, it finally happened. During Operation Protective Edge, my songs truly accompanied many people. Over the years, I also wrote for Shlomo Artzi, released a joint album with Mosh Ben Ari, and success led me to a mental place that said I must keep delivering with more and more commercially successful songs. Only in the last two years has that sense calmed within me. I'm more at peace with who I am in the world and less preoccupied with questions like which of my songs will succeed.

"Overall, regarding commercial success, I'm aware I have a certain disadvantage that makes it difficult for me in this regard, but for me, it's mainly an advantage. My songs don't carry the energy of shouting, provocation, extreme statements, politics, etc. I know it can spark interest and draw an audience, but I greatly believe that still waters run deep. In that quiet way, you can heal and enter people's hearts. In the past, it bothered me more because it took my materials a while to permeate the consciousness. But today, I understand the great benefit in that restraint and I'm very happy with my lot."

We Are One

"Speaking of restraint and processes," Aviv continues, "although, as mentioned, I was connected to Hashem from a very young age, it took me a while to reach Jewish study. My desire to engage with what lies beyond the visible led me to various spiritual realms, including Zen and Sufism. But in recent years, I've been blessed to know Judaism up close, understand it is my home, that it holds everything I need, and I don't need to graze in foreign fields. Today, I understand that what may seem similar to what I learned in Judaism is neither mine nor as old.

"As I often think about it, I feel like a Jew with all my heart. The more I connected to the sources, the more I felt that Shabbat was a special day for me, a day that should receive a different kind of respect than ordinary weekdays. I also study much about the history of the Jewish people, which gives me a lot of meaning. I see the uniqueness of our people, and it is precisely because of this that the division and categorization among us are very difficult for me. All this talk about sectors is a byproduct of appearances and barriers; it misses our truth. If before someone shouted their opinion or criticized the other, they paused with a good eye and understood that the situation is complex and behind every opinion opposing them stands a brother who also wants the good of the Jewish people - we'd be in a completely different place. Our sages teach us that the Jewish people are one entity in all respects, and I pray we always feel that.

"And indeed much of what I've said now relates to my new album and is present in it. Thanks to Hashem, it's my sixth album, born from my collaborative work with Amit Shagie, my producer and partner. Some of the songs in the album are from the very beginning of my journey, while others are brand new. I truly hope that the songs will touch as many people as possible, bringing light, blessing, and abundance to the world."