Joel Schalit

Liberation Theology

It’s just about out, and the first reviews for Righteous Indignation: A Jewish Call for Justice, are starting to filter through.

Edited by my former Tikkun colleagues Jo Ellen Green Kaiser and Or Rose, and the Kavod House’s Margie Klein, this inspired collection, documenting the new American Jewish social justice movement, is already receiving the recognition that it deserves. According to this week’s edition of Publisher’s Weekly,

While written for progressive Jews and their communities, anyone
struggling with the age-old conundrum of "…but what can I do?" should
sample this wonderful buffet of ideas, replete not just with tradition,
but with innovative interpretations suited to a 21st-century approach
toward social action and reform.

A slimmed down version of "Everything Falls Apart", the first chapter from my forthcoming book, Israel vs Utopia, has a home in Righteous Indignation‘s Israel section. A representative excerpt, The New Jewish Left, was posted to Mashdown last July.

Publication Party

The new issue of Other is officially out. Though I’m running a little late posting this terrific postcard, (the release party took place a couple of weeks ago), we finally had the time to scan a copy.

A contributor (and sometimes contributing editor) to this great, freethinking mag since it was first launched, there’s a piece in the current issue by me, about my years editing the late Punk Planet.

For the first time since 2003, when I served up a really loud noise set for a bunch of tranny friends at a local hair salon, I brought my Macbook and MIDI controller to the Other party and played DJ.

Speaking of Punk Planet, Paul M. Davis posted his article on the distribution crisis that triggered PP‘s collapse to the magazine’s website. Click here to read his analysis. It’s from the very last edition.

Inside the Former Fortress

The acoustics in Akko‘s old city are something else. Next time I go home to Israel, I’m going to make a recording of a British friend with a thick cockney accent reciting T.S. Eliot poems, in Hebrew, inside.

Covering the Coverage

His curiosity piqued by a recent article in Haaretz discussing the relative merits of the New York Times‘ coverage of Israel, a colleague asked me if I could point him to what I think are the best studies of Western media reporting on the Arab-Israeli conflict. For those who understand the subtext of such inquiries,  the editor couldn’t have asked a more loaded question. To make such a request in today’s environment means that you first have to ask why the question is important, and second, for whom.

Since September 11th, domestic coverage of the Middle East has obviously become more significant. Not just because the attacks on New York and Washington signaled the beginning of a conflict  between America and West Asian Islamists. But, also because of how it placed far more editorial requirements on a news media already struggling – and, in the US, largely failing – to meet the complex cultural demands already required of Mideast coverage by the country’s Jewish and Muslim Diaspora communities.

US news agencies haven’t done the best job of striking this balance yet either. However, there is more English-language, Mideast-based media to rely on than ever before to make up for it. Take for example, Israeli publications like the English edition of Haaretz on the one hand, and Al Jazeera‘s English broadcasting service on the other, not to mention all of the translated editions of regional sources in between. Americans now have every opportunity to read news that’s potentially more informative.

Though "local" is not always a synonym for "better", irrespective of partisanship and the limitations international media inevitably find themselves subject to, in comparison, few domestic sources, including the ethnic press, deliver the same quality goods.  Does that mean that American periodicals should hang up their hats? No. Because of this country’s obvious ties to the region – economic, cultural, and military, to name a few – US news outlets are morally obligated to continue reporting on the Mideast.

The question is how. Obviously, one answer would be to create content that was complementary with a foreign reporting that is better privileged for information. Another angle would be to concentrate on commissioning work on the numerous ways in which Americans deliberate about their involvement in a particular country’s affairs. Thus, you emphasize domestic political discussions at, say the State Department, or, amongst Americans with cultural ties to said state, instead of the other way around.

As many editors at American news periodicals will tell you, the two biggest complaints about Mideast coverage are always that its either anti-Semitic, or similarly compromised by a desire to satisfy special interest groups. The problem with such criticisms is that they’re not only frequently incorrect. But, most importantly, that they help divert editorial attention away from very real ethical problems, like learning how to properly tailor international news for a cosmopolitan, multicultural readership – during wartime.   

- From my notebook, Nov 1.

A (Sound) Installation!

Two Weeks After the War

The waiters placed each course on the table without touching it, almost as though they feared coming into contact with the surface. Every time I would thank them for bringing us new dishes, or order an additional beverage for my English-speaking wife, their eyes would glance down at me without any trace of emotion, like they wanted our interactions to be as impersonal as possible.

Clearly, something was amiss. I could sense it in the stops and starts in my conversation with our friend, who, having heard that I was journalist, asked me about my work, only to be greeted by my father quietly signaling as though he’d prefer it if I wouldn’t. Obliging, I’d shift gears by pretending to have been surprised by a particularly tasty piece of food.

“In all my years of coming here,” I said, “I’ve never had such good parsley salad.”

- Excerpted from Israel vs Utopia, Chapter 8

Desktop Rockers Be Gone

Can you remember what its like to just hang out and listen to music? Not at your desk, in your car, or on your iPod, but on the couch, on a weekend afternoon, with a friend, or a lover.

Imagine playing records back to back, for several hours, as your ears drift in and out of changes in albums, interspersed by comments about what you’re listening to, and long, deep yawns.

So we spent our Saturday, comfortably nestled in the living room of a sleepy vacation rental near the Pacific ocean, three hours north of San Francisco. No hippies, all reggae.

Preoccupied Territories

Shoutout to the Border Police

On June 5th 1967, the Six Day War officially began. In less than a week’s time, Israeli forces had wrested control of the Sinai peninsula from Egypt, the West Bank (including East Jerusalem) from Jordan, and the Golan Heights from Syria. Though Israel returned the Sinai to Egypt in 1982, and dismantled its settlements in Gaza two years ago, it continues to retain control of the West Bank and the Golan.

Dubbed the “Occupied Territories“,  Israeli rule of these lands has had far reaching consequences for both their inhabitants and Israelis alike. On June 5th 2007, though I’d had no plans to formally mark the war’s fourtieth anniversary, I found myself doing the exact opposite of what most Israeli Jews did that day: eating lunch at the home of a Christian Arab friend, in the Israeli town of Nazareth.

The meal began with a parsley salad, followed by a plate of lamb-filled lasagna. In between, the hostess served her own home made kubbeh, followed by a main course consisting of roast beef, baked potatoes and cheese. Desert was doled out in three stages: fresh fruit, followed by a cornmeal-based creme caramel, and finally, a mix of pistachio ice cream and lime sorbet.

Even though we all knew each other fairly well, for some reason, the atmosphere was somewhat tense. Long moments of silence were followed by intense, bilingual bursts of nervous conversation in Hebrew and English. Everything felt forced. In this context, the immense quantities of rich foods served their purpose, bludgeoning all of those in attendance with their heaviness.

It was only after the meal that talk turned to politics. Using Vance’s presence as a pretext to discuss the situation in Iraq, our host expressed enormous frustration with US strategy in the region. Though I had little opportunity to overhear the specifics of his complaints, out of the corner of my eye, I could see our host’s elbows jerking right and left, as he heatedly sought to articulate his concerns.

My attention, however, was focused on our hostess, who’d sat down next to me after serving us dessert. “This is for your wife,” she said. Handing me a box of Christian Dior perfume, she told me how beautiful she found Jennifer, and how much she admired her short, bleached hair. “Your wife is very courageous to wear it like that,” she said. “Please give her my warmest regards.”

California Orientalist

The mental health ploy had worked. She’d just gotten excused from her army service, and had come to the United States to go to art school. Standing in the kitchen of my old Richmond district apartment, K. [her pseudonym]  sampled two versions of hummus: one from Trader Joe’s, the other from a local Armenian deli. "Oy, they’re horrible," she exclaimed. "However hard they try, Americans cannot make hummus."

Thus, the perennial refrain of most Israelis living in the Bay Area. And its true. In nearly every instance, American hummus is consistently terrible. Either there’s not enough tahina (or any), or for some reason, ingredients such as mayonnaise, cream and salt are present. Even the so-called ‘organic’ versions are offensive, oftentimes sporting vegetable flavorings. Imagine an exotic wheat paste sprinkled with paprika. That’s what it tastes like.

Though my Israeli house guest is long gone from San Francisco (she now lives in NYC), we finally have a restaurant where the hummus is competitive with the best that the Middle East has to offer. As good as anything I’ve had at Yafo’s Abu Hassan, or Akko’s Hummus Said, this hole in the wall, run by several wonderful guys from Jerusalem, has made the Bay Area a better place to live.

Located in the heart of SF’s Mission district, the unsurprisingly titled Old Jerusalem, serves another dish of equal significance: Salat Turki. A standard at most Israeli fast food places, try and find it in the US, and you’ll be totally disappointed. Though its not listed on the menu, it is indeed available, and it absolutely kills. A fifteen minute walk from our house, Jennifer and I eat at OJ at least once a week.

"Never trust an Israeli’s judgement of Arab food," a Kuwaiti graduate student friend once joked to me as we inhaled Turkish coffee together in Toronto. "They’re all one-dimensional orientalists." I thought about these hilarious, stinging words as a Lebanese colleague of mine worked his way through the hummus the other night during an editorial meeting we held at the restaurant.

"Bloody hell," he blustered as he dipped a thick piece of pita into the hummus. "This stuff is so good, you’d think they started this place just for us."

Nevermind the Clichés

The last time I devoted a serious amount of mental energy to Adrian Sherwood was a typically cold summer night in San Francisco in 2004. Prior to a gig at the Elbo Room in support of his first solo album, Never Trust a Hippy, together with a couple of close friends, I managed to get myself admitted to the venue’s dressing room. There stood the surprisingly tall, fifty year old producer, sweat pouring down his bald head as he shook hands with his guests, discussing the production work he’d done on the then-forthcoming Asian Dub Foundation record, Tank.

It was one of those moments when I didn’t feel like I had anything to say. Having met dozens of my favorite artists over the years, I’d thought that I’d gotten over feeling star-struck. As it so turned out, this specific evening turned out to be an exception to the rule. Having produced some of the most influential records of the past generation – by Dub Syndicate, Creation Rebel, the New Age Steppers, and countless others – for his own legendary On-U Sound label (whose creative A&R work served as the inspiration for the label I managed, Asphodel) – I felt like I was in the presence of the Creator.

Unfortunately, this experience  proved to be all-too brief. Not long afterwards, as I sat behind the stage watching Sherwood mix his set, I started to feel queasy. In fact, nauseous. DJ’ing decidedly psychedelic, fast-paced material (according to my friend Ron, consisting of unreleased African Head Charge material, if I remember correctly), after twenty minutes, I decided that I had to leave. Could it have been what I’d had to drink that night, I wondered as I stumbled down the club’s crowded stairs, hoping to be relieved by the cool night air. What a lightweight. I’d only had three beers.

Thus, I approached listening to Sherwood’s new album, Becoming a Cliche/Dub Cliche, with a little bit of trepidation. So far only released in the UK by Real World, import copies have been slowly trickling into the US since the record’s release last November. Picking up a copy yesterday after having breakfast with the same two friends I’d gone to the Sherwood gig with, I took the disc home, and spent most of yesterday afternoon giving it a good listen.

Though I’m not prepared to do a serious critical take quite yet, I’m not exactly feeling speechless this time out either. Very much in the vein of his last solo record, Becoming a Cliche is a dense, drum and bass and ragga-influenced album every bit as rewarding as Sherwood’s last record. Boasting the vocal talents of longtime collaborators Lee Scratch Perry, Mark Stewart and the late Bim Sherman, it almost sounds like an updated Pay It All Back-era On-U Sound anthology.

In a November review  in the Guardian, critic Dave Simpson inconclusively asked whether Sherwood was still creating work as groundbreaking as his past achievements – particularly given how many producers have assimilated his style over the years. I’d say yes. However, I’d qualify that judgement by saying that Sherwood is doing so by refining his work rather than introducing new musical idioms. Artistically, though far less dramatic, that’s of equal significance.