Ishay Ribo: The Great Harmonizer
Ishay Ribo’s star is rising, and with it comes a message of hope, faith, and unity.
Last week, on the first downpour of the winter, Ishay Ribo was sitting with his band around a wobbly wooden table in a far corner of the Jerusalem International Convention Center.
Cigarette smoke hung in the air, water bottles were scattered about, and one of his producers was playing backgammon with a balding schlepper. Ribo’s guitarist, long sidelocks reaching his shoulders, slouched in a wooden chair, texting on his phone. His bass player, a small cap atop his head, wore a weathered jacket and a blank expression. Ribo, his beard trimmed close, his short hair slightly graying, tzitzis hanging out of a gray hoodie, sat in the middle of his crew, his eyes at attention.
The linoleum on the floor is cracked, the yellow paint on the walls is peeling, and the fluorescent light above casts a dim glow, but here sits perhaps Israel’s hottest act, preparing for a show.
The scene is right out of a clubhouse – kids seated in a circle playing marbles, friends gathered around a table for a friendly game of cards. There is camaraderie in the air, but also a hint of tension, as if something big is about to happen but no one is exactly sure what.
Ribo is 30 years old, and until a few years ago he was a minor act on the Israeli music scene. Then came his big break, in 2014, when Idan Raichel, a pop star regarded as one of Israel’s most creative and popular musicians, as well as a taste maven with the ability to launch careers, invited Ribo on stage to play a song.
That song, “Tocho Ratzuf Ahavah,” remains Ribo’s calling card, his classic, the sound that other Israeli artists now try to imitate and the melody that has endeared him to the full spectrum of Israeli music lovers, from the proudly secular to the starkly religious.
The song embodies Ribo as an artist. It is both delicate and energetic, full of longing yet exploding into hope. It is also a deeply religious song, with sources in Prophets, Psalms, and Proverbs, and yet its lyrics are easily accessible. It is a foot-tapping pop song with lyrics worthy of poetry.
The song is Ishay Ribo and Ishay Ribo represents the Israeli moment. He is Sephardi but appeals to the entire mishmash of Israeli society – Ashkenazim, chassidim, unidentified. He is a yeshivah graduate who wears a big black kippah and long tzitzis, yet secular Tel Avivans sing along to his songs with the same gusto that chareidim from Beit Shemesh do. He is a former singer in the army band who was invited to perform at both Israel’s nationally televised Independence Day celebration and its Memorial Day commemoration.
To date, he has released four albums – one of which went platinum, two of which went gold – and has recorded duets with a gamut of Israeli pop stars, from legend Shlomo Artzi to chassidic star Motti Steinmetz to pop king Omer Adam. Next year he plans a worldwide tour with stops in the United States, Canada, Mexico, France, and South Africa (he plays Queens College on June 4 and Saban Theater in Los Angeles on June 7), an impressive schedule of international concerts for an Israeli musician who sings in Hebrew and speaks little English.
It’s easy to pinpoint Ribo’s appeal. His voice is smooth and melodic, with a note of truth and urgency. Many of his songs are centered around acoustic guitar, which he plays, or piano, manned by his longtime collaborator, David Ichelovitch. It’s hard to identify his style, but it’s probably best described as soul-spiritual or folk-rock.
Menachem Toker, Israel’s most popular chareidi broadcaster, describes Ribo as a musician who has accomplished the rare feat of cutting across Israel’s sharply defined societal lines.
“Ishay Ribo is totally observant, every yeshivah student can listen to his music,” says Toker. “But he’s also the bridge between the chareidi and chassidic and the dati-leumi. He is the only singer in Israel today loved by the religious and the secular. Some like [Yaakov] Shewkey and some like Omer Adam, but there’s no consensus like Ishay Ribo.”