Chava Alberstein

Last night we went to see veteran Israeli singer Chava Alberstein at the concert hall on the kibbutz. In thirty years of Israeli concert going, I've never seen her before. I'm sure that this is more my fault than hers, although I'm equally sure that she hasn't been performing for the past few years. There are no excuses though when she appears on our doorstop.

Chava plays competent acoustic rhythm guitar; supporting her were another acoustic guitarist playing lead lines, yet another acoustic guitarist who sometimes doubled the leads, sometimes harmonised the leads and sometimes played supported the rhythm. There was also a percussionist who made interesting sounds on a variety of instruments. I very much enjoyed the first ten or fifteen minutes of the show but then it began to pall, basically because every song started to sound the same. A ray of sun shone through the clouds when the percussionist suddenly played a few notes on some kind of marimba (I couldn't see as for me he was positioned right behind Chava).

A highlight of the first part of the concert was an acapella song (accompanied only by percussion) which worked on three levels. First of all, the song itself - an observation of paranoia whilst in passport control - was witty; secondly, the singing was divine; and most important, the stark nature of the song broke up the boring dynamic which had been established, and enabled the audience to refresh their ears.

After this song, the band went electric - one guitarist took up an electric, the other a bass and the percussionist went to trap drums. The result would have shamed an average garage band. They weren't bad, but they weren't very good. The drummer, who uptil now had been fairly impressive, was very limited on the kit, whereas the guitarist preferred twiddling around in a fruity tone which didn't add much. The bassist was almost inaudible.

Fortunately, this assault on the senses ceased, and then the third part of the show began, again in acoustic mode. The final song was one of Chava's most famous - and most moving - "Like a wild flower", the tale of a girl who finds herself as an outcast in kibbutz society and decides to leave.

The whole concert could be viewed on several levels, each with a different mark -

• the songs - generally of a high quality
• the singing - excellent (and let us not forget that Chava has been performing for 40 years)
• the arrangements - good, up to a point
• the dynamics - non existent
• the phrasing - four to a bar and very disappointing

The final, unaccompanied, song was actually a microcosm of the problem. Being a song which the entire audience had waited to hear, they all joined in. The phrasing of the first verse was very much on the beat and very standard. But by the time the third verse had come around, very few of the audience were still singing (maybe they don't know all the words), and syncopations were finally happening almost every line.

The rhythmic aspects of the evening were also disappointing. One waltz, one song which might have been in 12/8, and the rest in fairly straight-forward 4/4. No sambas, no bossa novas, no syncopations and no variations. No wonder I felt bored after fifteen minutes.

For the weeks prior to the concert, I had been wondering whether I should try and approach Chava after the concert. Several of her songs had meant a great deal to me in earlier days, but I haven't really listened to her in the past twenty years, and I know that performers are much more interested in what they are doing now rather than some forgotten song from 30 years ago. The solution came to me one day when I was walking the dog and listening to cover versions of songs which I had recorded. One of those songs - and in fact the only song which I have ever recorded in Hebrew - was a song which Chava made famous, albeit in 1975. I decided to give her a disc with that one song on it, along with a letter telling her how much some of her songs had helped me learn Hebrew all those years ago. This way I wouldn't have to talk to her.

And indeed I didn't talk to her. When my wife and I ascended the stage (as we do after most of the concerts to say a personal thank you to the performers), we were stopped by some official character who took my package and said that he would make sure that Chava got it. So much for all the indecision whether I should have my picture taken standing next to her. My email address was included in the letter, but I'm not going to hold my breath waiting for a reply.