It’s Batov, We’re Happy
Batov Record’s co-founder, DJ Kobayashi, talks about the label’s history and aesthetic, and shares his thoughts on five recent releases
Doron Erez—better known as DJ Kobayashi—co-founded Batov Records in 2013, as a way to hype the music his band, Gypsy Hill, was releasing. “It was another way to create an online illusion, as if there was a label behind the band,” he says in our interview below. “But it developed into something that is bigger than we thought, and we are very happy about that.”
Batov’s focus is what Erez calls, “global funk and world grooves,” and boasts a sizable roster that includes a number of Israeli artists like Shiran, Lior Romano, Cherry Bandora, Eyal El Wahab (El Khat), Tal Sandman, and Sababa 5. The label’s aesthetic is a mashup Mediterranean and Middle Eastern sounds, which, as long as they’re funky, can be acoustic, electric, or somewhere in between.
Erez is also from Israel. He moved to London 16 years ago, which is where the label is based, and his moniker, Kobayashi, is way to help English people who are unable to pronounce his first name. “My name, Kobayashi, is from the movie, the Usual Suspects,” he says. “I was a fan of the movie, and I chose it as my DJ name. It stuck, especially since people who meet me find it hard to say, Doron. Although many times, when I meet Japanese people, they say, ‘But you’re not Japanese?’”
I spoke with Erez and we talked about signing and working with artists, the types of acts he wants on Batov Records, and the resurgence of interest in music from Middle Eastern Jewish communities. We also highlight five recent releases featured on the label.
What is your background, how did you get into music?
My mom was born in Tunis. She came to Israel when she was six or eight. I am from a Jewish family. My dad was born in Tel Aviv, from a Yemeni and Spanish family. My dad is a singer. He was in the Eurovision Song Contest in 1978. He was one of the background singers with Izhar Cohen and The Alphabeta. That was the first time Israel won the Eurovision Song Contest [the winning song was “A-Ba-Ni-Bi”]. That was the year I was born, but that music doesn’t actually interest my music side. Music was always a big part of our lives. Me and my father were always playing music together, and music was always a big part of the house. As a DJ, I was always digging and digging. I would get obsessed with one sound and then start to dig for another sound.
When did you start DJ-ing?
I was 11 or 12. I always wanted to be a DJ. You know how some kids draw trucks and superheroes? I used to draw turntables. That was my dream.
Do you do scratching, too?
I do scratching. I am part of a band called Gypsy Hill, which is a project I started with Herbert Newbert. We started it together as a bedroom project at the time. I never thought that it would become a band. We started in the MySpace era [laughs]. We put up a couple of demos on our page, and people started contacting us about gigs. We booked a gig when we had like three tunes. I said, “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.” We got a few musicians together, got a few loops together, improvised, and managed to do a gig. That was with my brother, Roi ‘Froik’ Erez—he was involved—Ben ‘Benson’ Whyntie , and Andy ‘Candyman’ Princz at the time. It just developed from there. My brother is a musician—he plays guitar and piano, and for this gig he plays acoustic and electric guitar—he lives here in the UK as well. He contributed a lot music-wise to the project. Before we realized, we were at the Sziget Festival in Hungary in front of 5,000 people.
Did Batov Records start as a way to put out Gypsy Hill’s music?
Sort of. It was another way to create an online illusion [laughs], as if there was a label behind the band. But it developed into something that is bigger than we thought, and we are very happy about that. Everything I do, I try to do to the best way that I can. Once I am doing it, I think, “OK. We’ll make a logo. We’ll make a website.” We had a recording studio on Denmark Street in London, and we had a lot of friends and musicians passing through. What happened was that it basically created interest in the label from other people who liked what we were doing. It grew organically, and the offers started to come from everywhere. When you’re in London, it feels like a small village. Suddenly, you get people sending emails from New Zealand or the States, from people who really like the label and want to be a part of it. We thought, “Oh man, it’s actually making an impact.”
Do you have some involvement with all the acts signed to the label, be that production, mixing, or in some other way?
I am mainly involved with giving advice. I like to let the artists make the final decisions, and to make their journey. Whenever I speak with an artist about their work, it is very important for me to make sure they understand that everything I say is just my opinion or suggestion. It doesn’t mean that I have the right way. I think that whatever works for you—and if you’re happy with that—that’s great. The artists do send me the mixes sometimes. I do share my opinion. I give feedback. But I am trying not to overstep my boundaries—that is not exactly the right way to put it, but I can’t think of a better way [laughs]. I say my honest opinion. Sometimes they take it to heart, and sometimes they think their opinion is right, which is fine. As an artist, I don’t want the label to get too involved in what I do. I am happy to hear feedback, but I wouldn’t want my work to be dictated by the label. I don’t think that’s right.
In other words, you give artistic control to the artists, and leave the artistic decisions up to them?
One hundred percent.
Although, obviously, the label has a certain aesthetic. You wouldn’t take on a project if you didn’t believe in it in the first place.
Exactly. Do you know what the expression, batov, means in Hebrew? Ba means, “to come,” as in, “somebody is coming to see you.” Tov means “good.” But in modern Israeli slang, if you told me that you were walking down the street and found $50, I would say, “Oh, ba-tov.” If you told me that you lost $50, I would say, ba-rah [rah means, “bad”].
Meaning that you’re acknowledging the serendipitous nature of things, and the synergy that happens with the artists you work with.
Yes. And when I say, batov, it means, “we’re happy.”
Are you based on Denmark Street in London?
No, we used to be on Denmark Street. We had a recording studio that we were renting from Denmark Street Studios. Our studio was called, Down & Left, because when you went down the stairs to the basement, you turned left, and there was the studio [laughs]. We didn’t think so much about the name. After that, we moved to Waterloo. We don’t run the label in a way that our artists have to record with us. We have a lot of artists who are based in Israel, and other places, and we live in a generation where people can do quite a lot in the bedroom.
Do your artists send you a finished, mastered product, or something close that you take to the next step?
They usually send us a file that is mastered. Sometimes they need help with the mastering, and we do that. But most of the time, we don’t get involved in those decisions, as we want to give them all the freedom. If we need to get involved with the recordings and that process, that also means that we are more involved money-wise and opinion-wise.
What is the label’s aesthetic? It looks like you have everything from klezmer to North African groove music. What is the sound that you’re looking for?
In general, in one definition, I call it global funk and world grooves. It doesn’t necessarily define something as Jewish or Arabic or Romanian. As long as it has something that has those elements, it works for us. The klezmer/Balkan group, Tantz, released one single with us. There is Gypsy Hill, which is more like Balkan/Gypsy beats together with electronic beats. There’s also Shiran, which is very Middle Eastern, as well as El Khat, Sababa 5, and Baharat. Sandman is more afrobeat, but with an Ethiopian jazz vibe to it. I became more attached to the Middle Eastern sound, because at the end of the day, I am from Israel, which is based in the Middle East, and that has a big influence on the sound of what we do. I don’t want to put a finger on it and say, “It is a Middle Eastern label, or a klezmer label, or a Jewish thing.” It is not. It is taking that global funk element and the world grooves, and it is very mixed in that aspect.
You’re also not particular about it being acoustic-based or electric.
I don't like to put too many barriers on the music side. [For example, some people have an attitude about DJs], that if they don’t spin actual vinyl records, they’re not a real DJ. If they use a controller, it is a different type of DJ. But for me, it doesn’t matter. If, as a DJ, you make the people dance and they enjoyed it, you did what you were supposed to do. If you make music, and you are using the technology to create electronic beats, and you use instruments on top, and it moves me in a certain way, or it makes me feel a certain way—that’s it. It’s done. I don’t break it down and say, “This is too much on the click, or not organic enough.” I don’t think like that.
Something that’s happening in Israel—and maybe it’s because Jewish people have lived all over the world—but artists are starting to explore the Jewish music of Yemen, or Morocco, and other places, too.
I find that the people who are approaching the roots music… For example, Eyal El Wahab, from the band, El Khat, he is approaching the Yemeni music as Yemeni culture, regardless of whether it is Jewish or Muslim. My approach is quite similar in that aspect. I don’t see a religion, I see music. I see culture. That is the key element. Not if it is Yemeni or Moroccan music but coming from the Jewish side, or, conversely, if it’s the Arabic or Muslim side making the music. If it comes to the same point, it’s good, and I like it. I like it.
What Batov’s association with the Boomtown Fair Old Town Port?
Boomtown Fair is one of the biggest independent festivals. I remember playing there—the second or third year after they started—when it was still a small indie festival. It became one of the biggest festivals in the UK. Last year, and two years before that, 2019 and 2017, we got a stage on a Sunday, which was just for Batov Records artists. We had the whole stage for us, with all the artists on the label, and it was a brilliant experience. It was good exposure for the artists as well, especially the ones who came from Israel. It is a crazy festival, and one of the biggest productions that exists these days in the UK.
Were you supposed to do it this year as well?
No, we were supposed to play the WOMAD Festival. With Gypsy Hill, I was supposed to DJ at WOMAD, but that was postponed until next year. We’re hoping to do Boomtown every second year.
So you’ll be back in 2021?
I hope so. We tried to take that concept even further, to take it to different festivals, and to take it abroad, like at Sziget in Hungary or the Fusion Festival in Germany. I think it is more powerful when we come with a concept and a sound and a style.
Photo by Dunja Opalko
Batov Records Roundup
Doron Erez (DJ Kobayashi) shares his thoughts about five recent Batov releases.
SHIRAN
Glsah Sanaanea with Shiran (جلسه صنعانيه مع شيران), is the latest release by Israeli-born, Yemeni vocalist Shiran Avraham. The album’s title is Yemeni Arabic for “a musical gathering with Shiran,” and is meant to invoke a group of people gathered together, drinking tea, chewing khat leaves (a mild stimulant), and playing music from Sana’a, Yemen’s capital. The album is also a departure from her electronic, dance-centric debut.
“Shiran started her career as an almost mainstream artist in Israel,” Erez says. “She switched, because she wanted to do more Yemeni/Iraqi music. She and her partner, producer and recording engineer, Ron Bakal, decided the first album was very top end, and produced. For the second album, they went totally in the opposite direction, and it is a striped-back, acoustic album.”
Shiran’s appeal is international, especially in the Arab world. “The amount of messages that Shiran gets on social media from the Arab world is insane,” Erez adds. “They love her, and the support is unbelievable. If you look at her Facebook or YouTube channel, and at the number of comments that are in Arabic. I was blown away.”
El Khat
El Khat is a project led by Eyal El Wahab, a multi-instrumentalist and former cellist with the Jerusalem Andalusian Orchestra. The group’s recent release, Saadia Jefferson, is a collection of Yemeni folk songs, which El Wahab reinterpreted on an assortment of instruments, many of them homemade.
“He builds his own instruments from scraps,” Erez says about El Wahab. “He is an interesting character. He is of Jewish Yemeni descent, and he was fascinated by his roots and Yemen. He wanted to learn, and to dig up everything that was Yemeni.”
Sandman Project
Sandman Project, based in Tel Aviv, is a psychedelic take on Ethiopian and afrobeat-influenced grooves. The quintet is a solo project led by Israeli session guitarist, Tal Sandman, which she started as an opportunity to stretch her legs, and do her own thing.
“It was very much based on the afrobeat and Ethiopian grooves, and also uses a lot of the Ethiopian scales,” Erez says. “Tal Sandman a very unique guitarist, and when you see her live, she takes it at least two levels higher than what you hear on the records. She is into that, and she digs in to find her sound. She is a perfectionist in that respect.”
According to Erez, the Sandman Project is addictive, too. “I couldn’t stop listening to it when it came out—even before it came out, because from when you first speak with an artist until the album actually comes out can be like six months—and it was the only thing I was listening to.”
Romano
Lior Romano is an Israeli keyboardist, session musician—his curriculum vitae includes artists like Ester Rada, Karolina, Yossi Fine (David Bowie, Rubén Blades, Stanley Jordan), and many others—and one third of the Oriental surf group, Baharat. “He is a crazy musician, and is somehow involved with so many other things that are happening,” Erez says. “He also plays with a lot of big names on the Israeli scene.”
Romano’s recent 7-inch, “MaNiya,” is a modern, electronic interpretation of his near-Eastern influences. “His influences are more hardcore Middle Eastern,” Erez says. “But I think Romano has something that’s a little more funky. He has an interesting story, too. He was convinced that he had to play by himself—he never knew that he could play with other people—he was always at home by himself with the keyboard, making beats, bass lines, and playing leads. It wasn’t until he got older that he started playing with other musicians.”
Sababa 5
“The members of Sababa 5 have played in so many different acts,” Erez says. "Guitarist Ilan Smilan and bassist Amir Sadot are a part of Tigris, which is an Israeli band that does Ethiopian music. They are also a part of the Hoodna Orchestra, which is an 11-piece Israeli afrobeat band. They started Sababa 5—at the time, Romano was a part of it, but in the end he went to do his own thing—and none of them sing. They are instrumentalists. They are trying different things with different musicians to see if there is a click, or a magic between them, and once it is happening, good things happen.”
Sababa 5’s single, “Crossroad of Love,” was released last year and features Japanese vocalist, Yurika. “Yurika is a Japanese belly dancer,” Erez adds. “She fell in love with Israel because of the Boomtown Fair, as well as the band, Ouzo Bazooka—they were playing in Japan and she was dancing with them, and then came to Israel. ‘Crossroad of Love’ is basically a proper Middle Eastern sound, but with a Japanese vocals. It was featured on Bandcamp Weekly, and we were selling those 7-inches like hot cookies. The demand for that was so nice and warm.”