Tair Haim Talks About A-WA, Her Insanely Popular Band, Plus The Other Projects She’s Been Slowly Simmering In Lockdown
Yemeni music for the modern age
Back in 2016, A-WA—an Israeli band that fuses traditional Yemenite melodies with funk, hip hop, reggae, and other dance-centric grooves—released their single, “Habib Galbi,” which became something on an international sensation.
“It is an amazing song that completely changed my life,” Tair Haim, A-WA’s principle vocalist says about the song’s immense popularity (she cofounded the band with her sisters, Liron and Tagel, in 2015). It helped get the band featured on major U.S. programs like NPR’s Tiny Desk and KEXP, as well as major festivals around the world. But nowhere was its ubiquity more intense than in their native Israel, where it was the first Arabic-language song to reach number one on the Israeli charts, and it was played, seemingly, everywhere.
According to my son, Gershon Gluckin [full disclosure: yes, I am quoting my son], “‘Habib Galbi’ was how I survived the army,” he says. “It was always playing somewhere, and we were always dancing to it.” We have video evidence, too, of him getting down to the song’s infectious groove while the rest of his unit is doing pull-ups, sit-ups, and other strenuous exercise.
Obviously, I mentioned that to Haim.
“I love hearing stories like that,” she says. “You see how much power music has. One song can touch so many hearts around the world. It touched people from Arab countries and in Israel and Europe and the States, everywhere. To me, that is amazing.”
The Haim sisters are from Shaharut, a small village in southern Israel—it’s on a mountain, about an hour north of Eilat, and their parents run a bed and breakfast there, which is the only local business that pops up on Google Maps—and A-WA started when Tair returned after college to start working on her first solo album. She asked her sisters to sing backing vocals. “But when we sang together for this project, the harmonies were so beautiful,” she says. “I said, ‘Why not make it a band, a trio?’ So my dream of doing a solo album, which I am working on now, I postponed it.”
But for some, COVID, and its subsequent lockdowns, were a blessing in disguise, and for Haim, it was an opportunity to finally return to her oft-delayed solo project. She released her first single, “Mitbashelet Leat,” which features lyrics in Hebrew as well as the Jewish Yemeni dialect she uses with A-WA, last May, and there’s more on the way.
I spoke with Haim from her home in Tel Aviv. We talked about the intricacies of the Yemeni Jewish community’s ancient music tradition, the origins of A-WA and how they suddenly became everyone’s favorite band, her thoughts on the popularity of music from the Jewish diaspora in modern Israel, and whether or not NPR’s tiny desk is really that tiny.
Shai Tsabari told me about a Yemeni Jewish women’s musical tradition, which is based around the cycle of life, and is primarily vocal, without instrumental accompaniment.
That’s how the Yemenites perfected their vocals and why they have lots of groove. They accompanied their singing with drumming on everything. It’s not necessarily drumming on an actual instrument, but can even be on an improved instrument like a tin drum.
Like a gas can or a plate or whatever?
Exactly, a silver plate or something, and it sounds so good. It is an oral tradition that one woman passed down to another for generations. It is very flexible material because each woman could add a chorus or a verse, or change the melody a little bit. It was only when the Jewish Yemenite people came to Israel around the 1950s that they started recording those songs.
Was it completely oral before that?
Yes. It wasn’t written. They remembered it and passed it down. There are many phrases that they used that you can find in many songs with different melodies. For me, as a kid, I was very interested in the piyutim from the Diwan, which are the male liturgical songs, but also the women’s poetry. In A-WA, what we did was focus on the women’s songs. We felt like we are continuing the chain, or the tradition, by creating new songs in the Yemeni Jewish dialect, as well as taking old and ancient songs, but giving them a modern twist.
Melodically, are those songs based on the makams or Arabic modes?
I don’t think they knew what they were doing, although they were obviously influenced by the Arabic culture that they were hearing around them. There are a few makams, such as Hijaz, that they use.
Rhythmically, A-WA has made these grooves very danceable, some are in 4/4, but do the rhythmic feels vary?
There are rhythms that are in four, but there’s also a 7/8, which is called a da’asa, and it is a very special rhythm. There’s also zaffa, which is in 6/8. Zaffa is what you usually do at a parade for the bride at the Henna ceremony before the wedding. The rhythms are amazing and so beautiful. In A-WA, we used a lot of the traditional rhythms and the production is modern. You can hear a lot of hip hop and samples, or a disco vibe, reggae, as well as psychedelic progressive rock influences like vintage keyboard sounds, or the chunk on the guitar, which is a really groovy feel.
Did you make changes to the vocal style as well?
Yemenites don’t sing in harmony, they sing in unison. What we did is inspired by Motown singers, and jazz vocalists, and those are the tight harmonies of the three of us. We added that feel. Although we kept the tribal singing, Yemenite women have a soulful style of singing that is really from the heart, like in every folk music.
Do you speak Jewish Arabic?
I wish I could speak it fluently, but when my grandparents immigrated to Israel, they wanted to fit in, and so they spoke less Arabic and more Hebrew. I understand everything I sing and I can also understand other Arabic dialects, but I don’t speak it fluently.
Is your pronunciation the Jewish pronunciation? Is it its own dialect?
Yes. I call it Yemenite, because it is a Jewish-Yemeni dialect. Like the Ashkenazi have Yiddish and the Sephardi have Ladino. It’s very specific. Also, my grandpa came from Sana’a, and different regions have slight differences in the accent, so I go with the Sana’a flow.
You grew up in southern Israel, in Shaharut.
Yes, it is a small village at the end of the world. But it is a beautiful place, like a paradise. It is on a mountain, and it is about an hour from Eilat. I grew up in like a little Yemen. It is modern of course, I had a computer and TV, but sometimes I felt like I was growing up in the landscape from the stories that I heard from my grandma. It’s a desert. I rode camels and horses. It was very beautiful and tiny. It was about 50 families, and very small and isolated.
Where did you go to school?
I went to school in Yotvata. It’s a kibbutz, and everybody from that region went to that school. I loved it there. I studied music and theater from a very young age, I always knew that I wanted to pursue music and be an international singer someday [laughs]. It was the dream.
Did you go to music college?
I have a BA in music. In high school, I finished the bagrut [Israeli matriculation exam] in music and theater. After that, I went to the army band—in the air force—I was a singer. I loved it. I couldn’t think of anything else. I really wanted to continue doing what I loved and to do something that was meaningful for me. I went to the Rimon School of Music for jazz and contemporary music after that, which is in Ramat Hasharon. Then I studied for four more years at the Levensky College for music and education.
When did you team up with your sisters and decide to start the band?
I finished college. I worked, and I had a jazz band, and I did many things. I also did my Yemenite thing, because since childhood Yemenite music was always there. I always knew that I was going to combine my Yemenite roots with other influences. I finished college and went back home to Shaharut. I said, “I am going to write an album in the desert.” I was working on the Tair Haim album, and I asked my sisters if they wanted to sing backup vocals for me on my album. Sometimes as kids we used to perform together—and separately, too—sometimes I’d call them on stage with me. But then when we sang together for this project, the harmonies were so beautiful. I said, “Why not make it a band, a trio?” So my dream of doing a solo album, which I am working on now, I postponed it. We came up with the name A-WA, and we hooked up with producers from Balkan Beat Box.
Who did you work with?
Tomer Yosef produced the first album, the Habib Galbi album, and Tamir Muskat, the drummer, produced the second album. Tomer introduced us to the band and everyone he worked with. We started doing popup shows where we’d come up on stage at Balkan Beat Box concerts and perform one or two songs. We just jumped in and performed. At the same time, we were working on the first album. A lot of the improvisation and things we did in those shows, we put on the album. It was very intuitive and cool.
How involved were Tomer and Tamir with the arrangements?
For the first album, we recorded demos at our apartment. My brother, Evyatar, is a sound engineer, and we had all the equipment. I played keyboard and he played some guitar. So for instance, a song like “Ya Shaifin Al Malih,” I made that as a ballad, and that’s what Tomer got. He used the harmony that I already did and the structure or feel that I chose for the song. We sent him around 15 demos and then picked the ones that we really wanted. Tomer worked with the band, the members of Balkan, and on the production.
Creating music that draws from your traditional heritage is a big thing in Israel right now. Why do you think that’s happening?
I think my generation really wants to go back and integrate our roots with other influences. We feel that it comes from a deeper place within us. As an artist, if I go deeper, I want to dig and put out something that is very meaningful and not superficial. I want to do something that is original, not just bring the tradition as it is, but give it something new.
We feel also very comfortable as Israelis now. My grandparents, I believe that they were shy—not ashamed—but they tried to fit in, or maybe even delete their identity. I think that’s what they felt was expected from the society around them or from the government. For instance, my grandma, her original name was Shama, which is a candle in Yemenite, and when she came to Israel they turned it into Shoshana, which is a rose. It is a different name. If they change your name when you come into this new country, it starts with that. Your identity, you can’t be completely who you are. You’re expected to be different. To fit in and be like everybody else. It was really hard for them, as immigrants and refuges who came into the transit camps. They came on Operation Magic Carpet in 1949.
Then there was the generation of my dad. He probably felt more Israeli, but his parents came from Yemen, so he felt like he wanted to run away from his identity. He had to look for something else, outside. To be different. He loves Yemenite music, but he likes Greek music even better.
He assimilated into Israeli culture.
Yeah, and my generation is saying, “Hey, I am wearing my identity with pride.” I am proud of where my family came from. On my mother’s side, I have Moroccan and Ukrainian roots and on my dad’s side it is Yemenite. It is ok to wear many identities and that is a message that I always talk about in interviews for A-WA. I say that it is ok to be many things. I am a woman and I am Israeli and I am Jewish and I am Yemenite and I am a human being. It is ok. It is beautiful to celebrate our traditions and our cultures and to open up to other people. I think that is what we celebrate in Israel now. It is a melting pot. It is that beautiful diversity within Israeli culture.
It’s amazing to me that your appeal is universal, even though you’re embracing the very specific particulars of your heritage. It’s like people relate more to that, as opposed to someone trying to appeal to everyone.
Exactly, and also as an artist. As a musician, I don’t want to copy. I don’t want to make music like a pop star in the States. I want to be original and who I am. To me, Yemenite music comes from my soul. The groove, the language, the Arabic, how it fits in my throat, and how I feel it. It is part of me. I want to be able to share this with the world, this uniqueness.
What do your parents and grandparents think about your music?
My grandparents have since passed away, but my grandma loved it. She was really proud of us. She loved watching the music videos. She used to tell me lots of stories about her childhood in Yemen, and how she traveled with her mom. It was amazing. My dad, who I told you wanted to run away from it a bit, now he really loves Yemenite music again. He’s a big fan of A-WA and my music. It’s so cool. He’s going back to his roots through us.
Did you film your videos in Shaharut?
We shot “Habib Galbi” in Shaharut and some other places in the Arabah Valley. That is where we grew up, and we wanted a place that was authentic to us, that showed where it started, and told a story. It also looks like Yemen. When we first released “Habib Galbi” as a single, we didn’t say that we’re from Israel. We wrote, “Sending a beautiful message from the desert.” Many people thought that we were from Yemen or wherever.
From the comments online, it seems like your music has been well received in the Islamic world. Has that been your experience?
The reception has been mostly positive and for me it has been amazing. One of the things I really care about is bringing people together and saying hello. It doesn’t matter where you come from. Music is a language in itself. It is a global language, and maybe we should focus on our similarities and love.
Your solo release, "Mitbashelet Leat,” is in Hebrew. Are you purposely trying to distinguish between the different projects?
Each song asks for specific things, “Mitbashelet Leat” is a mix of Yemenite and Hebrew. When I wrote it I felt it in Hebrew. I later decided to add a small part in Yemenite. I recently wrote another song totally in Yemenite. It changes. I have a vision on each song.
Although it also seems like the audience is able to hear past the language.
It is true. They get the vibe and the story, and they can imagine. Even if they don’t understand the Arabic or the Hebrew, they do imagine something. The fact that it makes them feel something, that is sometimes more important than the lyrics. Although I do really care about the lyrics. I never write something stupid just to put in as filler. I always write about something that I want to say.
For the NPR concert, they were careful to add subtitles for each of the songs.
We did that intentionally. We sent them the lyrics. We thought about it with our manager—we have a global manager based in the States—and I think she suggested it to make people feel closer to us and to understand it better. NPR loved the idea. I loved that session. I watch it all the time. It was such a dream come true, being in Washington D.C. and seeing the tiny desk. It really is tiny. We only had one condenser mic for the three of us, and it was set up like a small rehearsal. But it is so beautiful, it opens other opportunities when it’s that intimate.
What have you been doing in COVID?
I had my first son and he was the best creation ever. I really enjoy being a mom, and the fact that I can be home with him was a gift. I am also writing and creating my solo project, which is also a gift. It is refreshing. It makes me feel free and I can do what I want. In A-WA, it was the three of us plus the producer. It was four cooks in the kitchen. In the studio, everyone wants to say something. I dreamed for so long to be just me and a producer, and go with my vision. I am really excited, and it was my original vision. Even before A-WA, this is what I wanted to do. Timing is everything. After so many years of touring and creating together, I think it is good to breathe for a while and to focus on other things. For me, I feel so good and inspired, like I am starting all over again. I never want to lose this feeling of always creating something new and reinventing myself.
From The Archives: More Yemen!
Shiran Avraham talks about reclaiming her Yemeni heritage, and the thousands of voices that inspire her.
Go here to read the full interview with Shrian Avraham.
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