Karolina Believes In Miracles

The Israeli singer counts her blessings, and knows she isn’t lacking

Israeli-born vocalist Karolina learns from seemingly everyone. Her teachers include people like Aretha Franklin, Stevie Wonder, Janice Joplin, and Ella Fitzgerald, which, for a kid from the somewhat isolated southern Israeli resort town of Eilat, is a pretty impressive feat. She learned from Robert Plant, too, which you can hear in the genre-bending cover of “Black Dog” she did with the Mediterranean surf band, Boom Pam. 

“When Uri asked me to sing on ‘Black Dog,’ I said, ‘Robert Plant is my teacher!’” She says about her collaboration with Boom Pam mastermind and guitarist Uri Brauner Kinrot. “When I was a kid, I wanted to sing like him. And then Uri, with his genius mind, took the song to a very beautiful and unusual place.”

Obviously, Karolina didn’t have face time with her teachers—some of whom were dead by the time she started singing, and the others, we can assume, were probably busy doing other things—but she received an ample education anyway via her careful, disciplined study, and hours upon hours of practice. “I used to sing so loud,” she says. “I used to practice in the restroom because of the sound. There is reverb in there, and I used to practice from what I heard.”

Karolina has come a long way since those early woodshedding sessions. She honed her soulful, powerful voice during those years, and today her oeuvre has grown to encompass reggae, funk, R&B, and regional folk styles like Turkish, Greek, and other Mediterranean musics as well. She has a lengthy and impressive curriculum vitae that includes collaborations with international artists like Adrian Younge (Kendrick Lamar, Ghostface Killah) and Ali Shaheed Muhammed (A Tribe Called Quest); Israeli acts like the Kutiman Orchestra, Elran Dekel (Funk’n’stein), and Uri Brauner Kinrot; her insanely successful trio, Habanot Nechama, with Yael Deckelbaum and Dana Adini; as well her many solo projects. She is also a prolific songwriter, and her lyrics flow freely between English and Hebrew, which, she thinks, may also reflect a deeper, multinational message.

“It’s strange to say, but writing lyrics in both Hebrew and English is like the relationship between Israel and America,” she says. “So maybe working with both languages is not that strange, and I am part of this [larger cultural] stream.”

But cultural currents aside, Karolina doesn’t take her success for granted. She’s aware of her good fortune and grateful for the miracles that come her way. “What can I say?” She says. “I am so blessed in music and in my life because things are happening the way I want them to be.” 

I spoke with Karolina from her home in Tel Aviv, and we discussed growing up in Eilat, the many setbacks and struggles she overcame before finding her voice, the spiritual energy she associates with Habanot Nechama, her amazing adventures with Adrian Younge and Ali Shaheed Muhammed, and the exciting projects she’ll hopefully be able to release in 2021. 

You grew up in Eilat in the years before the internet. What was your exposure to Western singers like Robert Plant, and how did you learn to sing blues-derived styles like that? 

When I was a kid, and until today, there was a jazz festival in Eilat. Eilat is like another country in Israel. It is so far. It’s almost in Egypt. It’s very small, and a very hot place—it’s 50˚ degrees Celsius in the summer [editor: that’s 122˚ Fahrenheit, which may be an exaggeration]—and it’s very dry. Every year in August, there is a jazz festival there (the Red Sea Festival). Starting when I was 15, I used to go this jazz festival, and it was the opposite of the music that was happening in Eilat. I totally fell in love with jazz, because of that festival. That festival used to bring to Israel all of the biggest stars in jazz from all around the world, which, in the 1980s, was very rare in Israel.

Who were some of the artists?

I saw Tuck & Patti, Joe Zawinul, and Michel Petrucciani on the piano. Things you wouldn’t believe you would ever see when living in such a strange, small, little crazy town. As a kid, I totally fell in love with this. In my house, the influences were different, and the jazz festival gave me an opportunity to dive into jazz music, without knowing that I was going to want to sing some day. I fell in love with Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday and Nina Simone and Robert Plant. Rock ’n’ roll, jazz, B.B. King, Janice Joplin, David Bowie. My influences are very world wide. There’s also Turkish music and Greek music from my parents. My mom is Turkish, and my grandma used to listen to Greek music. But when I started to sing when I was 17, I fell in love with the blues and jazz because I felt that as a vocalist, that that is the best. If you want to sing well, listen to Ella Fitzgerald. I didn’t have teachers—and I never studied music—so those are my teachers. Stevie Wonder is my teacher. There are many more, too, but I don’t remember them all.

Would you sing along to their albums?

I used to sing so loud, and I used to do it in the restroom, because of the sound. There is reverb in there, and I used to practice from what I heard. In those days, there were no lyrics and no internet, so I used to write it in English without knowing the meaning. I only knew the vibrations of the words. It was funny and strange, but that’s how I did it. I used to sing songs like, “Cry Baby,” by Janice Joplin. I used to sing it like crazy in the restroom or in my room. That was a lesson in how to sing, how to keep my voice warm—these are my teachers. 

Did you start playing guitar at that time as well?

The guitar and my voice are gifts from my grandma. When I was 17, she bought me my first guitar, and I studied myself. I had a book to learn the chords, but I would practice by myself and sing little songs. I didn’t know I was going to be a singer, that was later. But my grandma, she was raising me, actually, and she used to sing. She’s the only person in my family who really sings. But she was so shy and she sang only to me. She used to sing in Turkish. Maybe it’s more true to say that is my first influence, because her voice was out of this world. It was something else, but nobody heard but me. She died, and I thank her for this gift. The guitar and my voice are totally from her. She was amazing, crazy, but amazing [laughs].

Did you learn Turkish music from her?

No. I wish, but I was not open to it, because I fell in love with jazz. As a teenager, to hear Greek and Turkish music was a disaster for me. I couldn’t hear it because I was totally into jazz. Although over the years, I have been falling in love with Turkish music. I am learning who is who, and I now know artists from the ‘70s in Turkey. 

That seems to be the trend in Israel right now. There was a period when no one was interested in that type of music, but it’s making a comeback. 

Exactly. I think it was always here, because the music in Israel leans on Turkish, Arabic, and Greek music. That is the popular music that most people love here. They call it Mizrahi, but I don’t call it that. To me it is like “religious” music mixed with Arabic, Greek, and Turkish influences together. It’s not really Israeli. When I hear it, I don’t consider it something authentic, like the music I grew up with here. The music that I grew up with is not that popular right now. It used to be. 

Like what? 

Like Arik Einstein, and also the Pure Souls—things like that. But for the last few years already, Mizrahi music is more popular than anything else right now. But when I say “religious,” I don’t mean religious music. I mean that it’s more spiritual music. I call it musica emunit [מוזיקה אמונית], from the word, emuna, which means, belief. 

Do you attend music school after high school?

No. I went to South America for one year. I was at the Rimon School of Music after the army and after my trip around the world. I was there for three months. I couldn’t really fit in. Actually, my story is that I always failed. It is me sitting by myself and trying to find out what I to do with my love for music. For example, when I was in the army, I didn’t get into the band. 

You didn’t do music for your service? 

No, because I failed. I always failed. But there is something strong, you know, inside of me, my passion for music was stronger. That was my luck, nobody really helped. At Rimon, I survived for three months. I didn’t learn anything, and went home without any musical education.

Although you did post something online—you were on TV in the ‘90s—and it looked like it was something through your association with Rimon. 

After I was at Rimon, they had a competition. That was at the time that my daddy died. He died very unexpectedly, he was only 46. I was totally in trauma, and I decided that I would go back to Rimon, and because they didn’t let me into any ensembles—I was like a ghost there at Rimon, I couldn’t find myself—so I said, “I am going to do the competition.” I wanted to sing and show myself, and also for my dad, and for the people who didn’t expect anything from me—like the manager of the school and everybody else. I won second place. First place went to a friend, Shai Tsabari, who is now famous. I went home, and then the day after they called me from TV and told me, “You were amazing, please come to our show.” That is what you saw.

Talk about your songwriting. You often go back and forth between writing lyrics in English and Hebrew. How do you decide which it’s going to be? 

I have to say that I never know what to do myself. I have a very strong intuition. At first, my influences were the jazz festival and reggae music, and the only thing I knew how to do was to sing in English. Eilat, where I grew up, is a tourist center, and so I knew English. But it is the flow of the thing. It is easier for me to write in English, which is very strange, because English is not my mother language. It’s harder for me to write songs in Hebrew. Although I am dealing with both at the same time, always, even now, I am working on an album in both Hebrew and English. Lately I’ve been thinking that maybe I don’t want to mix languages anymore. I want to sing either in English or Hebrew. But I don’t know. My biggest hit was “So Far,” which I wrote in English and Hebrew together. So maybe it works. 

When I first heard “Sorry Charlie,” I was expecting the verses to be in English.

Yes, and you know what, I have a version of that song in English, but I decided to do it in Hebrew. Mixing stuff is very natural. English is a groovier language. You can sing jazz and blues and hip hop in English and it sounds better. When you want to speak from your heart—like really deep from your soul—Hebrew is very deep. I think together works very nice, but that is only my opinion. They support each other.

I spoke with someone recently who said the magic happens at that point where languages intersect. Sometimes you can’t say it on one language, but the other expresses it perfectly. 

Hebrew is an amazing language. It is so deep. It is like going naked. When you speak in Hebrew, for me, when I write a song in Hebrew, I feel naked. Like I have no skin, and I am going very deep into my soul. English is very groovy. Much more than Hebrew. Hebrew is heavy. English is light. 

You’re also in that trio, Habanot Nechama, with Dana Adini and Yael Deckelbaum.

Yeah, Yael is Canadian. Her father used to be a musician who sang country music when he came over from Canada. She grew up in Israel but has very good English. She’s amazing—a very talented woman and a great friend. Dana Adini is another amazing singer and also a very good friend of mine. Yael is very spiritual and bright—for me she’s bright—and Dana comes from darker places, more gothic. I am in the middle. We’re three singer songwriters together in one group, and we didn’t expect that it was going to be that big. We were just having fun together. “Nechama” means comfort, but we cannot call the group, “Comfort Girls,” in English, because it is ridiculous to say that [laughs]. In Hebrew, it means “comfort” in the spiritual sense [as in Daughters of Consolation]. But it doesn’t work in English. We had such a nice journey together. We stopped because each of us wanted to focus on our solo projects. We are very different from each other, but it was amazing. 

Do you have plans to eventually do a second album? 

Maybe. I would love to, but I can feel the energy of “not yet.” Recently, we met up with each other. It was really nice and we talked about it, but I don’t know. It’s complicated. Somebody told me, “Girl bands? Three singer songwriters? HAHAHA. Forget about a second album [laughs].” I said, "Maybe you’re right.” It is complicated [laughs]. 

As a group, were those vocal harmonies organic or did you spend a lot of time working on arrangements?

It took one second. It happened as if it was from out of space, without knowing harmonies or anything. We just sang together—one, two, three, four—and it happened. We had a huge hit. I don’t know how, but it was like a miracle. It was so spiritual, like angles were around us. We felt it. That’s why I am always saying to the girls—they are like my sisters—I tell them, “Yael and Dana, it was too easy. Now that we have to work hard we don’t know how to do it.” It was very easy and very natural. Without thinking too much, like falling in love. 

You also do a lot of work with Elran Dekel and Kutiman.

They are like my brothers. We are like a small family in music. When I am doing new stuff, I always want Dekel and Kuti to be a part of it, that’s very natural to me. We grew up with music together, but lately it is hard to stay in touch because everybody is far. With these collaborations, first it is relationships and friendship, and then we collaborate.

Did you know them before you started singing with them?

Yes. I knew them from the hood. I knew they were musicians and they knew about me, but we were such good friends first. We sat around a lot together, and then we decided to jam together. We were listening to music and creating music together. I really trust those guys.

Was it through working with Kutiman that you met Adrian Younge?

I always say that music in my life is a miracle. Really, I am thankful, and meeting Adrian Younge was a miracle. I was playing a show with Kutiman here in Tel Aviv. The next morning, a friend of mine sent me a message, “You know, Adrian Younge saw you yesterday and he was totally amazed by you.” And I said, “Who is Adrian Younge?” I became a mother later in life—and I was very into being a mother—so imagine how crazy I was at the beginning. I said, “Nice, send Adrian Younge a big hug [laughs].” Then my manager called, and he said, “Just google Adrian Younge.” When I saw who he is, and heard his sound and his style, I was really in love. I heard something that really, really moved me. 

He called me on Skype from his studio, and he said, “I heard you at Kutiman’s show. Please come to L.A. Ali Shaheed Muhammad is here, and many other nice musicians.” My husband was near me—I covered the phone with my hand—and I said, “Do you know Ali Shaheed and Adrian Younge?” He told me, “Everything they offer you, say yes.” After that phone call, I realized that Ali Shaheed is in A Tribe Called Quest, which is one of my favorite bands.

Adrian said, “In two weeks, you’re going to come to L.A.” I told him, “I am a young mother, very near the beginning, and I am in a panic.” He said, “Come for six days and we’ll see.” I said, “I don’t think we can make music in just six days.” He said, “Every day, we are going to make a new song, from beginning to end.” I thought he was dreaming, but then I got there and that’s exactly what happened. Every day, one song, and then it was miracle after miracle, things happened so quickly.

Did you bring the baby with you to Los Angeles? 

I didn’t want him to experience that flight—he was almost two years old—so he was at home with daddy and my mom. I brought her up from Eilat. I had a little army at home so I could do it. I cried for six days and I was very emotional. My manager was so sweet and he helped me a lot. I told Adrian, “We have to make music all the time, otherwise I’ll be crying or I’ll want to go home or I’ll be panicking.” 

We wrote a few songs, one of them, “Feel Alive,” was really successful in the Netflix series, Luke Cage. That’s a song I wrote when I was 16, or something that like that. I met Ali and we became friends. A year later, they called me and wanted me to come to sing on stage with them with the singer, Bilal. There was also a surprise, and suddenly Kendrick Lamar was up on stage. I was a little bit in shock, but I played cool [laughs]. I was like, “Yeah, of course, Kendrick, nice dude.” But that was amazing, and I had such an amazing time with them in L.A. It was the second time I went—the first time was when we were creating and the second time was the big show. About a year ago, or maybe a little bit more, I did a tour with Ali and Adrian in Japan.

This is a gift. Adrian gave me such self-confidence about my writing in English, and about how nobody cares about my accent. They just want to hear me and hear what I have to say. I remember saying to myself before I met Adrian, “After I have a baby, I am going to need [something to really motivate me].” And that’s exactly what happened. We are still in touch. I am singing on three vinyls on Adrian’s label, Linear Labs, and that’s a big honor for me. I have a song with RZA, another song with Lætitia Sadier from Stereolab, and another with Ali Shaheed with Bilal. 

Tell me about the children’s album you did with Boom Pam and Maor Cohen.

Right now, I have two albums that we’re waiting for the end of COVID to release. One of them is the children’s album I did with Boom Pam and Maor Cohen. It will come out with a book and everything, but right now isn’t a good time to release it, because we are waiting to do it with a show on stage. The other album is my English-language album that is also waiting for its time. I just finished creating it and it is on the table and waiting.

Why a children’s album? Is that because you’re all parents now?

No, I think it was just natural. It was Uri’s idea. He said, “Let’s have fun together.” It was before he became a father—he is a father now, but he made the suggestion before that. We decided that it’s important to make music for kids from a different perspective. Most children’s music is educational, and our album is more free. It’s more like a ‘70s album for kids. It’s for hippies and parents like us. 

What do you mean, that it’s more fun, as opposed to teaching some kind of moral lesson? 

It’s fun. We wanted to say, “I am a kid. I don’t need anything right now. I am going to sing this song—and that’s because I am a kid—and I can’t explain why I shouldn’t.” The point is that being a bad kid is ok. These songs are about a kid who’s—I am sorry—showing his ass in the mirror, and dancing, and it is ok to do that. I am looking forward to seeing the impact of this album. Maybe parents won’t like it, but let’s be kids for a minute. That’s very important. 

You mentioned that you also have an English album in the can. Is that due out in 2021? 

This year. I am really looking forward to releasing it. I love this album. It is special for me in some ways. I did everything on this album myself, without any help or a manager. It was just that my heart wanted to sing, and I collaborated with Rejoicer (Yuvi Havkin), he’s the producer. We did it together.

Did you use a band or is it electronic? 

It is electronic, but with many great musicians, for example, Avishai Cohen is playing trumpet with me. I am looking for a label and I hope the album will have a nice home to start with. I want it to be on a label that isn’t based in Israel, just to give it a chance. I will of course send it to Adrian, he’s a very good friend of mine now. 

What can I say? I am so blessed in music and in my life because things are happening the way I want them to be. I never wanted to be a superstar or a celebrity. I just wanted to make music, to sing. I am very thankful about this gift—these two strings—my vocal cords that I can sing with. These two little strings just give me a beautiful life.

Photos courtesy Karolina

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