Moving from Portland to Tel Aviv has been an incredible experience. I’ve immersed myself in Israeli society—seeking out sights and sounds, flavors and tastes, places and spaces that have helped me engage with local culture and community.

One of the things that’s been most rewarding has been harnessing my background as a pianist and cellist to forge connections, make new friends, and expand my sensory horizons.

Over the year I’ve been in Tel Aviv, I’ve been lucky enough to pursue several different paths of musical exploration:

1. Learning, recording, and performing music written by Israeli female composers,
2. Playing at several events in Israel, and collaborating with fabulous area musicians,
3. Attending a unique array of concerts, and reveling in the local live music scene.

In my last blog post as All Classical Portland’s International Arts Correspondent, I’m excited to paint a colorful picture of my recent musical high points, focusing on the three areas above.

1. Learning Music by Israeli Female Composers

Let’s rewind for a moment to March 2020, when the COVID-19 pandemic first began affecting Portland and my world. My performing career was temporarily suspended, and I was forced to cancel all upcoming shows in my concert series, Connections Concerts. I knew I needed to pivot my focus away from collaborative music, and toward solo projects for the foreseeable future. At that time, I took on two big musical projects: recording my first solo piano album, Time Travel, and revamping my repertoire while devoting myself to learning music written by female composers.

It turns out that I quite like playing music written by women and feel especially passionate about sharing music that’s not already in the common classical music vernacular. There are SO many great pieces that have rarely (if ever!) been performed and recorded. I find it a tremendous honor—and hugely exciting—to bring these underexposed composers and pieces to the ears of new listeners.

Now, let’s fast-forward to late 2021. Upon arriving in Tel Aviv, jetlagged and navigating serious culture shock, I began to research Israeli female composers. I didn’t know exactly what might manifest with these new pieces, but I DID know it felt like an important and powerful way to forge connections with Israeli culture, and the local music scene.

I threw myself into the process, digging deep into the archives at the Israeli Music Library, contacting individual composers whose music intrigued me, and requesting score samples. Eventually, I ended up purchasing over 50 pages worth of sheet music, all written by Israeli women over the course of the last 50 years. And then, the fun really started: learning this magnificent music!

From start to culmination, it’s been an utter joy. I’ve been in contact with two of the composers whose music I’ve learned, Na’ama Tamir Kaplan and Lotti Amit-Kalev, and it’s been great to correspond and exchange support and camaraderie. The learning process itself has been rich and rewarding, playing repertoire that’s never previously been recorded means I have the opportunity to develop a truly personal relationship with the music. I’m freed from referencing other interpretations, or feeling like I have to “match up” to tempos, phrasings, or other artistic decisions made by other pianists. Talk about freeing—and a bit intimidating, too!

I also deeply appreciate how much this Israeli music feels firmly of this place. Though each of the composers whose libraries I’ve explored have different ways of manifesting the cultural ethos here, I find them all beautifully representative of the complexity, color, vibrancy, and perpetual dance of contrasts that I experience in Israeli people and places. There is abrasiveness and intensity, alongside hearts of gold; an embrace of individualism, along with an orientation toward community and family. The music I’ve learned this year reflects all that, and more: it leans in to tension, and celebrates resolution; it doesn’t shy away from challenging dissonance and chord structures, while also finding places to release into blissful harmonic terrain.

When I traveled back to Portland this summer, I had the tremendous joy of performing a handful of my favorite Israeli pieces on All Classical Portland’s Thursdays at Three, hosted by Christa Wessel! During the month of October, I rented a beautiful Steinway at the Ra’anana Music Center, hired a stellar audio engineer, and recorded 22 minutes worth of repertoire by three different composers: Na’ama Tamir Kaplan, Lotti Amit-Kalev, and Sarah Feigin. I’m proud to share that the culmination of those efforts is a brand new EP titled Seaside, which is now available on Spotify, Apple Music, and other streaming platforms!

Learning this fantastic music by Israeli women was a highlight of my year; sharing it with a new audience is an even greater honor and joy.

2. Playing Music in Tel Aviv

During my time in Tel Aviv, my career as a professional pianist has been decidedly humble. I’ve performed in intimate venues and settings, rather than on big stages; my endeavors have been as a solo or small-group musician, rather than as a performer with an orchestra or a larger group of collaborators.

But there’s been no lack of richness. I’ve loved having the opportunity to perform in a slew of different settings. And, each time I’ve played live this past year, there’s been a guiding force: the desire to use my music to connect with individuals, families, or local communities.

I performed at a pop-up “Secret Dinner Party.” Local entrepreneur Charlotte Rehov stands at the helm of this brilliant endeavor. She finds different unusual venues around town, and invites small groups of people to eat an amazing 4-course meal, drink delicious wine, meet new friends, and hear music by a live musician. The evening I came and serenaded her attendees, the dinner took place at a wild and whimsical local gallery, which was covered floor-to-ceiling with bright art prints. I delighted in providing acoustic ambiance to the evening, and spoke to the group about the power of connection through music. What a treat!

I performed at a birthday party. A serendipitous conversation with a new friend led me to land this gig in central Israel, where a family of 20+ lively Israelis gathered to celebrate their matriarch’s 60th birthday. The family knew of her deep love for the cello, and so they hired me to play a small concert to kick off their festivities. The whole evening was absolutely memorable—especially when the matriarch was blindfolded, paraded in, seated directly in front of me, and then invited to take off her blindfold when I started playing a selection from Bach’s G Major Suite for Solo Cello. She was overcome with emotion for the entirety of my 40-minute set, and the group whooped and hollered with appreciation each time I finished a song. As an encore, I ended up taking a number of requests, and the whole room sang along with their favorite songs from musicals and pop culture. Again: what an opportunity to deepen in connection! I emerged with cherished memories.

I collaborated with a new friend, in support of an EP release of her original compositions. This was a particularly special experience for me, as it afforded me the chance to expand my musical horizons in several noteworthy ways:

• My classical music training has led me to hold myself to a very high standard of playing; I rarely give myself space to free myself from perfectionism, and be unencumbered by expectations for “how things should sound.” Here, I was encouraged to be as messy and imperfect as possible, and it allowed me to create in a vastly different way than I usually do. My intuitive, improvisatory side was given a chance to soar! 
• I’m used to recording being a very formal and technical experience: working with high-caliber engineers in established recording studios, working out take after take with impeccably-tuned acoustics. Here, we were recording in the living room of an open-air home in Pardes Hanna—an Israeli city known for its support of alternative lifestyles and connection to nature—with an engineer who offered us fresh lychee fruits from his yard in between takes. Yes, please!
• As a performing pianist, I often find myself “front and center”; asked to carry a full piece—or a full concert!—myself. Here, as a “back-up musician,” I had the privilege of playing a supporting role to someone else’s brilliance—and boy, was it a treat. I love using my instrument to weave a particular musical texture into a mix; to create one layer of many, that complements and enhances a musical vision.

I collaborated with a local violinist, and learned some gorgeous new duets! In late Spring, after a few months of settling in to my new Israeli life, I began itching to make music in a more traditional chamber music setting. Shyly, I posted in one of Tel Aviv’s most popular Facebook groups—introducing myself and putting out a call for musicians—and I received over 100 responses! A number of collaborative relationships emerged, including one with a fantastic local violinist, Eva, who shares both my musical ethos (an orientation toward inclusivity, innovation, connection, and eschewing convention in favor of fun!), and my passion for female composers. We had a blast sight-reading through a book filled with fantastic music written by women, and then settled on four pieces to really dig in with: music by Clara Schumann, Lili Boulanger, and Dora Pejacevic. The culmination of our efforts? A “Salon-style” performance, which we video recorded in my living room—featuring the looming skyline of Tel Aviv in the background. Forging this connection was a delight; Eva and I instantly meshed (both as players, and humans!), and our musical communication felt effortless. And in my book, there’s nothing better than playing great repertoire with a performer who listens keenly, is deeply expressive and responsive, and genuinely loves the process. Pure joy!

3. Concerts and Live Music in Tel Aviv

The live music scene in Israel is vibrant, lively, eclectic, and community-oriented. Electronic clubs feature DJs every night (and all night!); pop bands draw large, raucous, dedicated crowds; folk and religious music plays a part in every national holiday, all of which are drawn from the Jewish calendar. There are several areas I’d like to shine a spotlight on:

Classical Music: The local classical music scene consists of well-established and high-caliber ensembles and musicians. The two largest established organizations are the Israeli Philharmonic Orchestra and the Israeli Opera, both of which are based in Tel Aviv; there are also several excellent early music groups, modern classical ensembles, and both traditional and innovative chamber music festivals and subscription-based series. A local and personal favorite is Orit Wolf’s On A Personal Note, which is housed at the stunning Tel Aviv Art Museum and features Wolf in collaboration with a fabulously diverse array of musicians. At one concert I attended, Wolf showcased a fiery and irresistible percussion ensemble, played a version of Bach’s Prelude in C accompanied by a handpan drum, and even got the whole audience clapping along to an unusual ⅞ time signature! Wolf narrates each themed concert with warm and welcoming dialogue, sitting with her guest musicians and conducting quasi-interviews during and after songs.

Jazz music: The jazz music scene in Tel Aviv is robust, variable, and vitalizing. There are medium-sized jazz clubs that feature touring acts and more “mainstream” sound; Shablul Jazz, for example, is a dinner and drinks venue that feels like it could be equally at home in London or Nashville! There are smaller clubs, like the beloved Beit Ha’amudim, that feature exclusively local acts and a strong emphasis on inventive, improvisatory, convention-eschewing, boundary-pushing “free jazz.”

And then, there are the surprise outliers. The most memorable musical experience I had this year took place at a hidden gem of a venue, the Yung Yiddish Library, housed in Tel Aviv’s cavernous and mazelike bus station. Finding the venue was adventure enough (I wove through many a dark and winding hallway before discovering an unassuming door with a vaguely recognizable sound of clarinet wafting out); upon entering, I found myself in a space featuring well-worn Persian rugs, a strange assortment of mismatched furniture, a crowded and chaotic stage area (featuring, among other things, a huge Merry-Go-Round horse), and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with Yiddish books. The first concert I attended was more of a klezmer music workshop—so, after a short performance featuring a pianist, percussionist, clarinet player, attendees were invited to sing or play along for a few hours more of music. To pair with the music? Homemade local sweet treats and shots of hard liquor, or course! A few months later, I was lucky enough to catch Israeli’s beloved Nigun Quartet at Yung Yidish; this stellar jazz group generally plays at larger venues, so seeing them in such an intimate setting was a rare treat. Nigun Quartet is one of Israel’s best representations of a marriage of solid modern jazz in marriage with musical tropes influenced by klezmer music; their original compositions all weave in traditional Israeli sounds and melodies, and their leader—a tall, charismatic clarinet player—can really rip!

Street music: The street music scene is another vital and exciting part of the Israeli musical environment. On evenings and weekends, the busy Tel Aviv promenade is filled with local street performers; they sometimes collect modest crowds, and other times merely attract the attention of passerby’s who pause and listen for a few moments before continuing their beachside walks or runs. Since I walk the promenade nearly every day, I’ve come to recognize a handful of the most regular players: the handpan drum player, who accompanies himself with a boxy cajon drum, and uses looping to enhance and expand his sound; a peppy 20something colloquially known as “The Sunflower Girl” (due to the vase of sunflowers she always places next to her when she plays), with a killer voice and an uncanny ability to “shred” on her electric guitar; a saxophone player, who rips and roars over background jazz tracks that he broadcasts through an accompanying loudspeaker; a guitar duo who play American rock classics, weaving in beautiful instrumental and vocal harmonies. And on Saturday mornings, a quartet of four endearing old chaps play schmaltzy classical “greatest hits” without amplification of any type—in accordance with traditional rules of not using technology on the Sabbath. 

Along with regular fixtures, live music abounds on weekends and local holidays, and there have been many occasions in which I’ve stumbled unexpectedly upon a show in neighborhood parks and cafes. The fact that the weather is generally sunny and hospitable all year round certainly helps cultivate a vibrant, ongoing street music scene.

To Close: Reflection, and Gratitude

Even before moving from Portland to Tel Aviv, I knew I had a strong desire to connect with Israeli culture through the avenue I love most: music! I’m so pleased that I’ve found so many fantastic, fruitful opportunities for exploration.

By learning music written by Israeli women, performing live at a slew of memorable events, and attending live concerts with local musicians, both my musical and connective cups have been filled way up.

On a personal note: I’ve also deeply appreciated the opportunity to connect with YOU, the All Classical Portland community. From sharing a program of Israeli music on Thursdays at Three in July, to taking over the station’s social media channels, to sharing pictures and stories on the Arts Blog, it’s been an immense joy to travel with you this year. I can’t thank you enough for joining me on my Tel Aviv adventures, and I can’t wait to share music and words with you again—from wherever that may be!

Until the next time: many well-wishes from the shores of the Mediterranean Sea.

Learn more about Sophie at sophielippert.com.

Food has always been one of my favorite ways to connect with a culture. It’s an amazing miracle for me to take a “sensory trip” to experience the essence of a place by sipping a cup of steaming soup, eating a bowl of aromatic noodles, or devouring a delicious dessert.

I find music and food to be strikingly similar in the way they allow us to travel (with our senses) to different places, and connect with the flavors or sounds of a foreign country and culture without getting on a plane.

Transcending, Connecting, and Traveling through Taste and Sound

I notice food’s resemblance to music in several noteworthy ways:

• They both serve as conduits of connection, and transcend language boundaries.
• They both are vehicles for bringing people together in community.
• They both give us a chance to experience a culture outside of its particular geographical location; a vantage point into the sensory experience of a place, without physically being in country.

These are part of music and food’s “special sauce,” and part of what makes them so priceless and precious.

There were many times during the pandemic when I longed to expand my cultural horizons, but was stuck at home in Portland. The thing that helped me most was to either listen to—or play!—music from a different country, or cook a meal that utilized and showcased foreign flavors and ingredients. Listening to infectious rhythms from Senegal, Africa, or cooking an Indian recipe that utilizes freshly-ground cardamom pods and coriander seeds, might not be quite the same as traveling to Senegal or India—but it creates a great sensory experience, and allows me to travel—in my senses, at least—somewhere outside of my own home.

(One of my favorite things to do is to pair the music I’m listening to with the type of cuisine I’m eating! So, if I’m cooking a Chinese-inspired dish, I’ll find some traditional Chinese music to listen to. What a great way to expand my horizons.)

Given the strong parallels in my life between food and music, it feels only appropriate to spend some time profiling Israel’s amazing cuisine / culinary landscape!

A Melting Pot of Flavors

The Mediterranean Sea runs the western length of Israel’s border, and because of this, it’s no surprise that the primary flavors here pull from Mediterranean cuisine. Street stalls are filled with pungent olive oils and rich dates and nuts; dairy stands sport dozens of varieties of feta cheese; cucumbers and tomatoes are paired with parsley to form the nation’s famous “Israeli salad.” Alongside this, however, there’s a decidedly Middle Eastern flare that also plays into the richness of Israel’s culinary landscape. Spices like cumin and coriander are used liberally in many applications; the quintessential “Za’atar” (a mix of sesame seeds, sumac, salt, and herbs like thyme, oregano, and marjoram) tops bowls of creamy hummus and soft breads and savory pastries; kebab meat makes an appearance at nearly every Israeli restaurant. And then, with the prevalence of Judaism comes an abundance of kosher and other religiously-influenced food products: beef-based sausages and deli meats abound (it’s rare to find pork on a menu!), special sweets make appearances for the Jewish holidays, and challah is baked fresh at all the bakeries in time for Friday’s sabbath dinner. Much like many aspects of Israeli culture, I find the food here to be an amazing melting pot of different traditions; heavily influenced by the many different cultures and people who have lived in this region over the centuries.

There are three main areas I’m excited to showcase: the pita (what I might call Israel’s signature dish); the love of salads (and the first thing we need to do is define that term, as it’s different than what you might expect!); and a run-down of the country’s favorite sweets.

Meals in a Pita

Israelis love their pitas. And, for good reason! Color me biased, but I’d like to boldly state that until you’ve tasted a pita from the Middle East, you’ve never gotten a full experience of the incredible art form that is this beloved pocket bread.

Yep: I’m just talking about the pita itself—even before it’s filled with all sorts of tasty treats! The Israeli pita tells a complex and intoxicating story. It features a fluffiness, lightness, and buoyancy; the flavor is mild, the texture is rich, and the combination creates a taste that’s irresistible in nearly every iteration. And how something so intoxicatingly airy manages to be hefty enough to be stuffed to the gills with vegetables and meats is beyond me.

Another delight: for anyone who doesn’t eat gluten, many restaurants carry gluten-free pitas that are just as delicious as their glutinous counterparts!

The pita is rarely just eaten on its own, though. Its simplest application is perhaps dipped in bowls of hummus, and served alongside slices of raw white onion, tomato, and pickles. (Hummus restaurants can be found on nearly every street corner in Israel, and deserve a whole post in themselves!)

The pita is also the centerpiece of nearly every street food here. The most common three are the following:

1. Shawarma. This tasty shaved meat is cooked on a giant rotisserie or spit. It’s a pretty dramatic endeavor: the meat is shaved thin and then shaped into a huge cone, then shaved off in a circular fashion. It’s almost always served in a pita with a variety of accouterements: tahini-garlic sauce, pickles, diced tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions, and some other variety of pickled vegetables and cabbage slaws. There’s another sauce, which is mango-based and a bit spicy and sweet, which is also common as a final topping. And french fries on the side are optional, but very much suggested.
2. Falafel. I’ve had plenty of falafel in my life, but much like my experience with pita, until coming to Israel I never realized the extent of complexity and deliciousness that could be contained within these little fried balls made primarily of ground garbanzo beans. Generally smelling and tasting faintly of parsley, garlic, scallions, and cumin, these fritters are most commonly deep fried, then stuffed into a pita with a similar assortment of accompaniments to the shawarma: raw and pickled vegetables, and then sauces on top: tahini, and an amazingly herbaceous spicy green sauce (a little packs a real punch!). Our favorite local falafel joint layers the ingredients so beautifully that the finished product truly DOES look like a piece of art—and tastes like one, too. Unbelievable.
3. Sabich. Perhaps less known globally, this trendy street food is wildly popular in Israel. Apparently it originated in the 1940s and 1950s as a simple breakfast, using the easiest ingredients on hand: leftover eggplant, hard-boiled eggs, and maybe potatoes for kicks. Now, it’s become a competitive phenomenon: the debate rages around Tel Aviv as to which sabich shop executes their sabich with the most craft and finesse. The centerpiece of a sabich is the crispy fried slabs of eggplant—which, in the hands of a skilled cook, are even incredible eaten alone: oily and crispy exterior, soft and almost sweet interior. In a sabich sandwich, however, they’re paired with eggs, that Israeli holy trinity (tomatoes, cucumber, onion), parsley, and—you guessed it—tahini to top everything off. Though sabich is tasty at any time of day, it’s still most common as a breakfast or lunch dish; in fact, like falafel, most joints close by 4 or 5pm.

Now that we’ve explored pita in its many iterations, let’s take a left turn to another quintessential feature of the Israeli dining scene: salads.

All The Salads

Breakfast, lunch, or dinner. So many veggies!

First, it’s important to define what “salad” means in this context. Upon first arriving in Israel, I was surprised to find that salads seemed like an “all-inclusive” experience here— A spread of Israeli salads consists, essentially, of anything cold that can be served in a small dish as an appetizer.

When dining at a traditional Israeli restaurant, get ready: you’re in for all sorts of treats beyond those that you order. It’s still typical to order an entree per person (in Tel Aviv, that’s almost always a cut of meat or fish); however, before you receive your chosen dish, you’ll be bombarded with a smorgasbord of incredible small dishes—which fill the center of table with festive colors and textures. Sometimes, there are up to TWO DOZEN different options to nibble on.

Some of the offerings often found in an Israeli “salad” spread are as follows:

• Hummus
• Baba ganoush
• Thinly-sliced ribbons of cabbage with dill in a mild vinegar dressing
• Greens with chunky tomatoes, crumbled goat cheese, sumac, and lemon
• Fried eggplant
• Roasted cauliflower
• Shredded carrots with candied walnuts
• Chunky roasted beets with parsley
• Parsley-heavy tabbouleh salad
• Cucumbers with onion
• Lightly-steamed corn kernels with red peppers and spices
• Tuna salad
• Pasta salad
• Pickled jalapenos or pepperoncini peppers
• Saucy tomatoes
• Shaved fennel

…and the list goes on!

Sophie’s mother and father-in-law are all smiles before diving in to their salad course in a sunny, beachside Jaffa restaurant.

Pita is always served as an accompaniment, and sometimes, there’s another baked bread covered with melted cheese, or olive oil and za’atar, or chunky roasted garlic.

There’s something for everyone—and, if you’re like me, nearly everything is finger-licking good!

That said, I wish that salads came with a warning, as I’ve had to learn the hard way to pace myself. The small plates are generally refilled numerous times during the meal, so it’s easy to get completely full on the vegetables even before a main course has arrived!

In fact, my husband Noah and I have occasionally opted to order ONLY the salads for our main meal. Usually a restaurant charges a fee of about 35-40 shekels per person—about $12—but it’s unquestionably the best deal in town!

Salads on their own can serve as a perfectly satisfying and delicious meal in Tel Aviv. Despite the absence of a “main course,” Sophie and her husband Noah were stuffed after this filling feast!

Another difference: salads are served and eaten at any time of day. Yep: even breakfast! In fact, a traditional Israeli breakfast spread consists of bread or pastries, and perhaps a side of eggs—and then, an array of all those amazing aforementioned vegetable dishes.

But, enough of savory—let’s turn now to the treats!

Make Way for Sweets!

• Sweets: different sub-categories, but “local desserts” (not European-style cafes or bakeries) are commonly nut and honey-based, and often a sweet crunchy semolina noodle is used. Also: LOVE OF ICE CREAM.
• Fruit: tropics! In-season is key; the fruit at the market changes dramatically depending on time of year & what’s available. Watermelon, grapes, plums, mangos, FIGS. Always: citrus of all types, avocados (though different varieties pop up at different times!), bananas (huge banana groves in Eastern Israel!),
• Drinks: soda is much more common here than in the United States! Also, the types of varieties of sugary drinks at any given convenience store is pretty damn impressive. (Twix in a bottle? Guava puree? Sparkling fruity mixers? You name ‘em, they’ve got ‘em.)

SWEETS.

Honey-based.
Candy.
International.
Ice cream.

Even More Diversity of Deliciousness

Before I wrap today, I want to be clear: this is a non-comprehensive foray into Israeli food. There are so many different culinary experiences that can be had in Tel Aviv—it is a huge international city, and offers an impressive array of different flavors and types of food! I neglected to include a few particular enticing local treats: Jachnun, burekas (basically, dough stuffed with any array of savory things), and the food and drinks that accompany the Israeli love of what I’d call “cafe culture” (long hours spent leisurely sitting, sipping, and supping). There are also some very interesting “fusion”-dining experiences here—you wouldn’t believe what they manage to fit in sushi rolls! (Yep, that includes shawarma meat!) There’s so much diversity and deliciousness to experience here!

An exploration of Tel Aviv wouldn’t be complete without mention of the beautiful spices, too—an enticing array of flavors and aromas that waft from spice shops across any of the local street markets. And though other ethnic foods can be hard to find, there are a few great restaurants that showcase foods from different parts of the world: Mexican tacos, Thai curries, Chinese dim sum, Indian thalis. There’s even excellent Ethiopian food, served on spongy injera and eaten with no utensils!

[And Yahweh knows I could wax poetic on hummus alone—the shining centerpiece of Middle Eastern food—for many more hundreds of words.]

If there’s one thing I’ve learned and confirmed about Israeli food while being here, it’s that there’s a tremendous pride and art and joy that it contains and instills. People here are voracious, joyful eaters; food serves as a conduit for community and connection, and a centerpiece for celebration and ceremony. I’ll miss these dazzling tastes when I return to the United States—but hopefully, will find opportunity to travel back to Israel through my senses over salads for breakfast, pitas stuffed with fried eggplant or falafel for lunch, bowls of silky hummus for snacks, and pistachio-studded baklava for desserts.

And I’ll never stop being grateful for the way that music and food both serve as conduits of connection and togetherness! Listening to music, and having a meal filled with delicious food, are equal-opportunity experiences; both allow people of all different backgrounds, cultures, languages, physical and mental capabilities, and socioeconomic statuses to connect and share experiences. And what a gift to share sounds and flavors with people around the world.

Wishing you all experiences with meals and music that transport you outside of your normal sensory stomping grounds!

Stay tuned for the final blog in Sophie’s Musician Abroad! series coming this winter! You can also learn more about Sophie at sophielippert.com.

Over the past 30 years of playing classical music, I’ve come to be a huge appreciator of contrasts. 

Music is full of them!

Contrasts in dynamics: from bombastic fortissimo to whispered pianissimo.

Contrasts in tempo: from scurrying presto to languid largo.

Contrasts in articulation: from sharp, piercing staccato to smooth, undulating legato.

Contrasts in emphasis: from melody weaving a narrative, to rhythm creating an infectious beat, to harmony emerging as a powerful unifying element.

Using these musical tools—dynamics, tempo, and articulation, plus melody and rhythm and harmony—performers are able to convey remarkably different moods, emotions, and ideas. And, often, it’s these contrasting elements that make a piece of music so compelling, exciting, and magical.

Chopin: will you provide us with an example?

To illustrate just how amazing contrasts can be, let’s take a section from Chopin’s 2nd Ballade. Chopin begins by employing a soft dynamic, a slow tempo, a legato articulation, and repetitive harmonic and rhythmic patterns to create a sensation of sublime calm and warmth. The soothing sound of this opening section reminds me, in fact, of rocking a baby in a cradle: the music gently undulates back and forth, back and forth. 

Just 30 seconds in, however, Chopin does a 180-degree turn and transitions, abruptly and fantastically, to a flurry of right-hand arpeggios that move wildly up and down the keyboard! The mood is anything BUT soothing and calm; there is tremulous turbulence in the cascades of notes, a wild cacophony of emotional expression that sounds, to my ear, distraught and angry. Both the melodies and harmonies are ever-shifting and unsettled; the dynamics fluctuate between booming and explosive fortissimos to murmuring, muttering mezzo-pianos.

And then, amazingly, Chopin leads us back to calm again: drawing from the tropes he used in the first section to lull the piece back to peaceful repose. As the Ballade progresses, Chopin never stops to juxtapose these contrasting moods; the piece continually shape-shifts from one extreme to another, creating an amazing sensation of dynamism, scope, and excitement.

(Note: Chopin’s 2nd Ballade is an incredible representation of pianistic and compositional virtuosity and mastery; I encourage you to listen to all 7 minutes to get the full effect!)

From Chopin, to Tel Aviv!

My appreciation for contrasts leads me now to Tel Aviv, Israel, where I’ve been living since December 2021. 

One of the most amazing things about creating a life in Tel Aviv has been observing and experiencing the many remarkable contrasts that Israeli culture contains.

Today, I’m going to focus on three areas in which the contrasts have been particularly astonishing:

1. The Weather: the bright, searing sun and the expansive, cooling sea.
2. The Sabbath: a calm weekly respite amidst the wildness of normal life.
3. The People: the sharpness and softness found in cultural mannerisms.

The People

Israelis often describe themselves as “rough on the outside, soft on the inside.” There is an undeniable abrasiveness in many of the verbal correspondences that take place here—detectable in the words spoken, the tones of voices used, and the accompanying mannerisms and body language cues. In all these areas, the energy and behavior is sharp, strong, loud, and sometimes even outright aggressive. 

Underneath their tough exterior, though, most Israelis have hearts of gold. They are quick to share information, to help when help is needed, and to volunteer support of all stripes—even when the person they are engaging with is a total stranger. In one moment, they’ll honk loudly and impatiently while zooming down a busy city street; in the next, they’ll stop their car to help someone who’s visibly lost or confused. (Sometimes, that person is me!)

When my partner and I were looking for an apartment, a taxi driver spent our entire ride calling his friends in real estate, asking them what units they had available on our behalf. New friends have invited me to share beautiful Sabbath feasts with their families, welcoming me so warmly that I instantly feel at home. And I can’t tell you how many times fellow shoppers have helped me dissect food labels and pricing in the shops, bodegas, and street stands where I buy my groceries.

The Sabbath: Calm Amidst the Storm

Tel Aviv is a huge, dense, metropolitan city. There is, therefore, noise and activity all the time. Every hour of the day (and night!), people are out and about: walking, shopping, eating, hanging out at cafes, drinking coffee or cocktails. The sounds of the city have a distinct flavor during the middle of the night: the planes on international routes leave between the hours of 11pm and 6am, so the air is filled with sounds of huge jet planes in the wee hours of the morning. And even the cats make noise in the middle of the night—I often hear them yowling when I wake between dreams!

And then, Sabbath rolls around. Between sundown on Friday and sundown on Saturday, the majority of storefronts around the city close their doors and discontinue services. This includes all types of business: from restaurants and convenience stores, to record shops and even the cavernous, enormous, maze-like Dizengoff Mall in downtown Tel Aviv. The most common greeting you’ll hear during this 24-hour period is “Shabbat Shalom” —translating roughly to “Wishing you a peaceful Saturday.”

While observation practices vary, many people in Israel have adopted some form of a “Sabbath practice”. And things really do feel significantly different on Saturdays than any other day of the week. The popular walking streets are thronged with families, as are the beaches and the seaside promenade. And, while the pedestrian traffic increases, the car traffic decreases by over half!

Many people refrain from using any technology during the 24 hours of the Sabbath, which means a dramatic altering of lifestyle. The invitation to turn away from my phone and my computer, and to turn instead to nature, the people around me, and cooking and sharing a meal with loved ones, inspires me–and I hope to bring this inspiration with me when I return to the United States.

The Weather: Bright Sun and Cooling Sea

Arguably, Israeli weather contains very little contrast—especially in comparison to places where the weather varies widely between hot and cool temperatures. Here in Tel Aviv, there’s a pretty narrow window of variation, and there are a few things that are most pervasive:

Wide-open skies,
Bright, oppressive sun,
Miles and miles of shoreline kissing the Mediterranean Sea!

Cold weather in Tel Aviv is classified by anything below about 65 degrees Fahrenheit; whenever temperatures dip into the low 60s, the majority of Tel Avivians don their big puffy jackets, winter hats, and fur-lined boots. In February and March, while I was swimming in the sea as much as possible, the people walking past me on the beach would be dressed in full winter attire. “It’s freezing!” my Israeli friends moaned.

And that’s because, for the rest of the year, it’s Really Darn Hot. The UV index is impressive, too—it takes only 10-15 minutes in the height of day to be gifted with a mean sunburn. So, one has to be careful—even when escaping into the sea for a much-needed cooling dip!

Speaking of: thank goodness for that water! The Mediterranean Sea is an incredibly important and tempering force in a region of oppressive heat. My daily swims provide welcome relief and respite from the heat hanging in the sky; the water is masterful at both cooling down my physical body, and pacifying the intense energy that the heat brings. 

Israel is bordered by the Mediterranean Sea on its entire west side, and though there are certainly less coastal regions of the country, the sea’s tempering, soothing energy is a powerful presence throughout the country.

In Conclusion: An Appreciation of Contrasts

There’s no question that my musical background has deepened my ability to appreciate—and celebrate—the contrasts contained in Israeli culture. Rather than seeing these opposing elements as disparate or conflicting, I see them as necessary equals; flip sides of the same coin; components that balance each other, and temper each others’ intensity. 

Much like the incredible range and scope of Chopin 2nd Ballade, I love the way that Tel Aviv demonstrates the power that can be found in both hard and soft, calm and cacophony, oppressive heat and recentering cool. I’m eager to continue experiencing and embracing these contrasts, and the beauty they contain. 

Again, music can be a teacher here: almost always, despite the intensity of contrasts contained within a piece of music, the composition closes with a unifying, stabilizing, and pacifying element: harmonic resolution.

Despite the dissonance and disparateness that precedes it, harmony prevails.

Stay tuned for the next blog in Sophie’s Musician Abroad! series coming in the fall! You can also learn more about Sophie at sophielippert.com

Part 1: Venturing into the Unknown

Music has always been an anchor for me.

Whether I’m tickling the keys of the piano, bowing or plucking my cello, or listening to recorded tracks or live performances, music serves as a constant; a place of refuge, comfort, joy, emotion, and trusted companionship.

My connection to music is especially important when life takes turns toward the unexpected—and it certainly did when I took a monumental leap into the unknown, and relocated to Tel Aviv, Israel in December 2021!

This transition was a big surprise to everyone in my life—including me. For the previous 10 years, I’d established a life in Portland as a performing pianist, teacher, and entrepreneur. I’d played as a concerto soloist with the Seattle Philharmonic and Olympia Symphony, performed at venues such as the Keller Auditorium and the Portland Art Museum, and collaborated with many of the Pacific Northwest’s finest multi-genre musicians as founder of Connections Concert Series. I’d recorded my first full-length solo piano CD, worked as resident recording artist with Classic Pianos, and played several thrilling Thursdays @ Three programs right here on All Classical Portland.