A localized cosmopolitanism

Naturally, dramatic events in one’s local context draw attention to the unique conditions of the home environment that might otherwise remain invisible. This newfound awareness, however, does not necessarily preclude the possibility of maintaining a cosmopolitan outlook.Footnote ³ While cosmopolitanism is sometimes considered an alternative to nationalism, it is seldom portrayed as eliminating or supplanting it. In his acclaimed essay Cosmopolitanism: A Critical Theory for the Twenty-First Century, Ulrich Beck writes against what he calls ‘methodological nationalism’, an approach that considers nationality as the default and essential frame for analysis and interpretation (Beck Reference Beck and Ritzer2007). Although he believes that the nation-state has become a state-of-mind, Beck does not deny the importance of nationality as a political framework and identity category. Instead, he urges us to acknowledge the gap between cosmopolitans’ modes of perception and the modes of analysis we impose on them.

Emphasizing the simultaneousness of cosmopolitanism and localism, Cicchelli et al. (Reference Cicchelli, Octobre and Riegel2016) explain that:

Building closely on the path previously outlined by Lamont and Aksartova (Reference Lamont and Aksartova2002), Cicchelli et al. call for investigating cosmopolitanism ‘on the ground’, that is, from the perspective of individual awareness and through the actions and attitudes of ordinary people (rather than ‘archetypal cosmopolitans’) as they engage in everyday cultural activities.Footnote ⁴

In this study we follow a similar perspective presented by Motti Regev (Reference Regev2007) regarding the contribution of popular music to the constitution of aesthetic cosmopolitanism. In his analysis of the constant remaking of pop-rock in different locales, Regev offers a nuanced perspective that breaches the alleged opposition between local and global forms of expression. According to Regev, pop-rock is by definition a cosmopolitan form and as it circulates around the world, musicians create their unique local appropriations which inevitably already embedded with global properties:

Unlike a mere fusion between two distinct entities, Regev allows us to understand how global and local forms are mutually embedded. The idea that local or national uniqueness simultaneously enhances global isomorphism, and vice versa, brings to mind the curved surface of the Möbius strip which allows for the unification – not only coupling – of oppositions.

The outdoor festivals we studied, InDnegev and Yaarot Menashe, took their inspiration from popular festivals like Roskilde (Denmark), Fusion (Germany), and Primavera (Spain), of which the local organisers are regular visitors. Both festivals also take place in peripheral locations that were at the frontiers of Jewish settlement in the pre-state period: the southern Negev desert and the northern Menashe National Forest. The producers of these festivals were born and raised in these settlements. Although most of them no longer reside in the region and some of them divide their time between Israel and other places around the world, once a year they gather from across Israel and abroad, teaming up with their old best friends to create a colourful festive event through their own labour. As a friendship-based project, the construction of the festival is characterized by horizontal management, a fluid division of labour, and informal processes of decision-making and conflict resolution. Here, relationships are not instrumental for achieving an external goal; rather, the project itself provides an opportunity for friends to come together for creation and recreation.

The local settlements in which the producers grew up were established by their grandparents during the formative era of the state, a fact that posits the producers as descendants of the old Zionist elite, a group whose work is closely associated with the seminal values of Israeli culture. Arguably, their strong sense of rootedness in the local land, which they actually cultivated from an early age, may seem to stand in opposition to their global-oriented enterprise. However, we argue that the opposite is true. Not only is traveling the world a mundane experience for them, but their sense of ownership and taken-for-granted belonging to the land also frees them to explore global cultural trends and actualize them in their home environment. Most notably, in creating the festivals on ‘their’ land, they merge the national ethos of self-reliance with the do-it-yourself (DIY) attitude as a distinctive cultural feature of global indie music (Bennett Reference Bennett2018).

Before presenting our ethnographic account, we will dedicate the next section to offering a theoretical contextualization of the spatial dimensions embedded in indie culture. The following sections will then provide a thick description from the field to ground the two dimensions of our argument: first, how a cosmopolitan outlook on the part of the producers torques their sense of national belonging; and second, how the seemingly seamless movement across spatial dimensions is informed and fuelled – rather than constrained – by their historical and political awareness.

Indie and the construction of space

The term indie, a derivative of ‘independent’, is historically associated with alternative forms of rock that became popular in Britain and America in the 1980s. Independent labels supposedly allowed for alternative music that is ‘considered to be more experimental and tends to appeal to a particular fan base or local community as opposed to a mass audience’ (Fonarow Reference Fonarow2006, p. 12). Cultural scenes that developed around indie music associated its eventual integration into the commercial music industry with artistic concessions and in accordance advocated a self-reliance approach often referred to as DIY (do-it-yourself) (Hibbett Reference Hibbett2005).

In spite of its apparent oppositional ethos, from the outset independent labels established work relations with commercial companies while large companies launched subsidiaries for the purpose of recording and distributing alternative styles (Dale Reference Dale2008; Hesmondhalgh Reference Hesmondhalgh1999). Moreover, independent artists were not necessarily committed to the idea of alternative musical styles and many among them created music that was not fundamentally different from the popular styles of their time. Starting in the 1990s, this dynamic produced a situation in which ‘alternative music’ and ‘commercial music’ came to function – as a matter of fact – as subcategories within corporate culture (Brooker Reference Brooker2003).Footnote ⁵

While indie music is still primarily associated with the creative centres of Britain and the United States, and also to some degree with alternative forms of expression, the term is widely accepted and appropriated in many other places, and within different contexts. Alternative music scenes in peripheral regions, in Europe and beyond, are developing due to a growing access for people, mostly young and/or of a middle-class background, to various styles emerging from different parts of the world. The global spread of the Internet allows musicians to become aware of indie scenes worldwide and to adopt the DIY ethic and aesthetics associated with it (Jian Reference Jian2018; Kim Reference Kim2019; Luvaas Reference Luvaas2012). Analysis of indie scenes worldwide focuses thus not only on independence vis-à-vis the commercial music industry but also on independent initiatives as an approach to career management and as a sustainable economic model in the neoliberal reality (Bennett Reference Bennett2018). Indeed, as many studies show, DIY practices offer an advantage in an exploitative and unstable job market (Haenfler Reference Haenfler2018; Tarassi Reference Tarassi2018). In this context, researchers emphasize both the aspect of versatility, i.e. the ability to fill roles and functions that vary according to the project’s needs, and the aspect of informal social networks that constitute a network of security and belonging among independent producers (Carradini Reference Carradini2018; Rogers Reference Rogers2008).

Within this context, the spatial aspect does not seem to receive sufficient attention, although technological developments and the formation of translocal professional networks are closely related to this aspect. So far, the discussion about indie scenes tends to examine the phenomenon primarily in its local contexts and to emphasize the contribution of scenes to the construction of a place through a seemingly unique style and sound (Ballico Reference Ballico2011; Garland Reference Garland2019; Matsue Reference Matsue2008; Skandalis et al. Reference Skandalis, Banister and Byrom2020).Footnote ⁶ An exception to this is Brent Luvaas’s work on the creation of independent music in Indonesia (Luvaas Reference Luvaas2012). Like other researchers, Luvaas demonstrates ‘the contributions of indie musicians to the very re-making of identity and place’ (ibid., p. 127), but his analysis also undermines any determined linkage between local-national belonging and self-making:

Despite the significant differences between the two cases, that of Indonesia and that of Israel, Luvaas’s approach points toward an analytical direction that is particularly relevant to our own study.

In the historiography of music in Israel, the notion of ‘indie’ was absent until the beginning of the 2000s. One reason for this is Israel’s geographic and cultural distance from the main production centres of indie music. Another, more relevant reason is that Israel featured a poor and a narrow market, ‘a mass culture without the masses’ (Calderon Reference Calderon2009, p. 16), in which, due to the establishment-controlled media, no correlation existed between the popularity of a certain style or artist and their prominence in the local mediascape. In this context, the division between commercial and independent music became less relevant. Although most local artists had to operate more or less independently, this condition was not related to the concept of ‘indie’ as defined in other parts of the world. Finally, indie music that was produced in Europe and America during the 70s, 80s, and 90s did not receive wide recognition in Israel and were celebrated mainly in tiny marginal scenes. As mentioned, the concept became more common only in the first decade of the 2000s, partly due to the popularity gained by the InDnegev festival.

The indie scene in Israel developed in contexts similar to parallel scenes worldwide, namely the establishment of the neoliberal order, the expansion of digital communication, and the development of technological literacy among youth. Readily available recording technologies today enable the independent production of music and its distribution in digital format through streaming platforms and social media. Accordingly, a growing number of listeners consume their music via the all-inclusive buffet of Spotify and YouTube and, in doing so, become increasingly accustomed to eclectic musical consumption (Johnson Reference Johnson2018). Contemporary listeners, mostly but not exclusively young ones, socialized within this digital streaming context, exemplify what Warde et al. (Reference Warde, Wright and Gayo-Cal2007) describe as unassuming or unpretentious omnivores, for whom the idea of investing in a particular style as a means of identity-marking might seem odd.Footnote ⁷

All these developments are relevant from a spatial perspective, as the reliance on algorithm-based music streaming leads to the blurring of stylistic road maps that were traditionally organised along demographic and supposedly objective parameters such as language, nationality, social status, colour, and gender (Fisher Reference Fisher2022; James Reference James2017a). Contemporary music producers embody this inclusionist tendency intuitively by increasingly creating mash-ups of genres that once seemed to exclude one another, thereby exemplifying the prevailing logic of our ‘post-genre era’ (James Reference James2017b). Examining the festivals’ booklets, where liner notes present the participating artists, provides a vivid illustration. A random sample may reveal that indie rock band Surf Platoon ‘brings a post-punk spin on surf rock, combining old and new [elements]’; Writer-composer-producer-vocalist Karma She is ‘a hip-pop [sic.] witch who sings and produces mystical electronic music stuffed with fat basses’; whereas ETMX is:

These and other performers may reveal various elements (textual, musical, vocal, etc.) that point to a connection of their music to the local-national context, but many others do not. In this regard, Israeli indie is not necessarily Israeli in any taken-for-granted aspect, even if it is performed by Israeli musicians.

The festival experience simultaneously reflects and promotes the trends discussed above. In both InDnegev and Yaarot Menashe, five stages operate concurrently, each offering a series of performances that take place throughout the day and night. Unlike other festivals, where stages are dedicated to different styles and, hence, to allegedly different audiences (see, for example, Dorchin Reference Dorchin and Markowitz2013, p. 92), performances here are assigned to stages according to other considerations, such as band size, anticipated audience size, and the technological requirements for each performance. This alternative logic is related not only to the growing problem mentioned earlier of applying conventional genre definitions to most bands but also, and more importantly, to the increasing indifference of contemporary audiences and performers to this issue. The festival audience typically wanders – sometimes randomly – among the stages, which allows for a multi-style experience and frequent shifts in atmosphere. The festival thus dictates the abundance and simultaneity of sounds (acoustic, electric, electronic), rhythms (rock, Mizrachi, reggae), and languages (Hebrew, English, Arabic, etc.).Footnote ⁹ As Crossley and Emms (Reference Crossley and Emms2016) previously indicated, within the context of music festivals, the concept of ‘indie’ entails containment rather than exclusion, oriented toward melting rather than fortifying boundaries.Footnote ¹⁰

National aspects in festival production

Expressions of national localness abound in the festivals we explored. As already mentioned, both take place at sites that reflect core Zionist values. The site of Yaarot Menashe festival is commanded by a huge memorial monument for fallen soldiers, whose names are engraved on it. The festive event unfolds near the monument, and as one walks through the forest, the monument – with the national flag firmly planted atop it – appears intermittently through the treetops. The temporary makeshift office of InDnegev production in Mitzpe-Gvulot is located in a mud structure originally used by the early settlers and later converted into a museum. Bristol boards containing tables and information for the festival production team are hung on the mud walls between the black-and-white photographs that are permanently there, documenting the early settlement enterprise. In addition, the InDnegev motto, Mafrichim et Ha’dmama (lit. ‘Making the Silence disappear’) – rhymes with the famous Zionist slogan Mafrichim et Ha’shmama (‘Making the Desert Bloom’). The national core values denoted by the original slogan, i.e. activism, determination, self-reliance, improvisation, and the creation of local culture, resonate perfectly with the contemporary DIY ethos of the young producers.

The festival producers are not indifferent to this symbolism. Having grown up in nearby communities they regard the desert or the forest spaces as an extension of their homes and they regularly express a sense of ownership over the space, for example by using the term ‘our forest’ or when picking fruits and vegetables in nearby fields to feed the team. Indeed, these young people feel at home in these areas. As children they would explore and organise different activities in these spaces and later, as teenagers, they were already involved in tending the fields and orchards therein. Since most of them currently live in other places, setting up the event provides them with a good reason to go back, to meet friends they grew up with, and to work together for a month to establish ‘their’ festival in a space they call home.

Before and during the construction stage, the organisers gather from around the country and abroad and form the intimate commune camp that provides all their needs (kitchen, dining area, camping area, workshops, bathrooms, etc.). The general joyful and intimate atmosphere during the setting-up period, and the many activities on the site, are reminiscent of their youth movement summer camps that also took place in these very spaces. The work is carried out with skills acquired by the production team members from working in kibbutz fields in their youth, from participating in summer camps, or, later, during their military service.

The producers’ attitude toward the site is that of a ‘small place’, a concept coined by Gurevitch and Aran (Reference Gurevitch and Aran1991), meaning ‘simple localness, similar to the feeling of indigeneity’ (p. 11). Such simple sense of belonging, Gurevitch and Aran explain, is opposed to the artificial national engineering of attachment to and ownership of the homeland; the ultimate ‘big place’. Nativeness, as a product of deliberate institutional construction, may instil a sense of rightful claim over contested land, yet it makes it difficult to experience belonging to that place as a natural condition.

Even if one can detect signs of national indoctrination among the festival organisers, their relationship to the home environment is not limited to this aspect and is not solely defined by it. The InDnegev team’s sentiments towards Mitzpe-Gvulot relate to the place itself, not to the role it plays in the collective consciousness. Similarly, when the Yaarot Menashe organisers use the term ‘our forest’ they are speaking as native sons of the place, not as agents of the national enterprise. Their connection to the forest is not related to the prominent presence of the memorial monument, nor to the erased presence of the Palestinian village that once existed here and whose remains were obscured by JNF foresters.Footnote ¹¹ In short, this specific sense of home is made possible because it is not subordinated to questions concerning its legitimacy as a national home, and because it is not threatened by counter-narratives of belonging.Footnote ¹² This assumption allows the organisers to draw on the pioneering-Zionistic habitus while at the same time imbuing it with transnational meanings. We will further elaborate on this point in the next section.

The festival, however, is not built within the home itself, but outside and next to it. Moreover, it is built to create an alternative setting, very different in nature and purpose, one that does not seek to claim the permanent status of home. When the organisers envision and design their festival, they emphasize the inspiring qualities of the location’s physical characteristics, which give the festival its unique character to no less extent than the music performed in it. Each year, when the InDnegev organisers arrive at the festival site, they encounter a flat, empty desert area, which they describe as a blank canvas or a ‘sandpit’ waiting for them to play in and create their temporary, fantastic world. Thus, unlike the pioneering narrative attributed to their grandparents, the desert here is not imagined as a hostile wilderness to be conquered, but as a giving environment that bestows its rewards on those who immerse themselves in it.Footnote ¹³ The forest too, as found by the Yaarot Menashe organisers upon their arrival, offers countless possibilities from which they ultimately choose how to organise, delineate, and mark the space. When we arrived at the forest with the construction team, we were asked by the chief organisers to pair up and take a free tour inside the forest so that the direct encounter with nature would inspire us with original ideas regarding what, how, and where things can be done differently than previous times. Just as the organisers work on their environment to prepare it for the event, they allow the environment to work on them and often relate to it in terms that emphasize the element of agency reserved for it.

In this context it may be argued that the forest and the desert do not belong to the realm of a ‘small place’, as described above, but to a ‘very small place’ whose uniqueness is defined by its natural features rather than by any group’s sense of belonging or competing claims. For example, a nickname used to refer to the InDnegev space is ‘The Land of the Black Beetles’, named for the Darkling beetles (Tenebrionidae) that abound there. While preparing for the festival the art team came up with the idea of initiating a campaign to preserve the Darkling beetle population. They created artistic warning signs that were hung throughout the festival area and amused themselves by building a small shrine in honour of the beetles. The point at which the place becomes ‘very small’ is also the point at which it becomes universal, since it is temporarily liberated from national symbolism and from the affinities that human groups feel towards it. During the festival the forest is ‘just’ a forest, not a national one, while the ‘land of the black beetles’ is the land of creatures that live according to the dictates of ecology rather than ideology, and that lack any awareness of borders. Transforming the ‘small place’ to the status of ‘very small place’ – one that precedes human activity and any resulting ownership claims – allows the organisers to experience it as a ‘sandpit’, resembling a playground that accommodates both global and local sensibilities simultaneously.

Fragile localness

The producers’ DIY approach and their role in promoting independent music in Israel explain why local media often refer to them as ‘pioneers’. The producers, however, distance themselves from that nationally framed label and express discomfort whenever described this way. This discomfort is somewhat surprising, given the explicit reference made by the festival slogan – Mafrichim et Ha’dmama (‘breaking the silence’) – to the national-Zionist motto Hafrachat Ha’shmama (‘Making the desert bloom’). In Zionist historiography, the land was commonly described as an empty expanse awaiting Zionist settlers who would make it flourish, as implied by the well-known slogan ‘a land without a people for a people without a land’ (Shapira Reference Shapira2012). This narrative denied the fact that large parts of the local landscape were already inhabited by the indigenous Palestinian population (Gertz Reference Gertz2000). Portraying the land as barren and vacant not only glorified the Zionist act of settlement but also absolved it of responsibility for the dispossession of Palestinian residents from their land. In this sense, the choice of the slogan Hafrachat Ha’dmama appears to position InDnegev’s producers as successors to the Zionist enterprise and as actors that endorse the accepted national narrative.

Given the voluntary association they created between the festival and a Zionist-pioneering act, how can one account for the discomfort of the producers towards their public image as pioneers? Tomer, the team member who first proposed the motto, admitted that for him it was a sincere tribute to Hebrew culture: ‘to the idea that we are returning to the first settlement in the Negev’. Yet, the festival’s motto presents a sophisticated twist on the original national one. In Hebrew, ‘Hafracha’ has two meanings, pronounced the same but spelled differently: to bloom or to refute. Thus, the concept of hafracha as employed by InDnegev participants no longer signifies ‘making the desert bloom’ but rather refuting its silence .

This seemingly small manipulation of the Zionist motto is significant, as it captures the distinction between modernity and ‘liquid modernity’ – that is, the transition from a framework of thought anchored in concrete, solid concepts to one characterized by ephemerality and the absence of material permanence. Indeed, the project undertaken by the festival organisers does not presume to put down roots in the land; at most, they will drive in some stakes that will be removed and stored after a few days. Since the disturbance of silence is inevitably momentary – an act that leaves no lasting mark on the land – it entails the creation of a fragile localness, one lacking a sense of exclusive identity or eternal connection between people and place. The organisers’ simple, inherent connection to the site, as discussed earlier, allows them to engage in ‘culture jamming’ on national emblems and to reference these in a playful manner.Footnote ¹⁴

As they embark on their projects, local producers necessarily draw on a symbolic repertoire that is most available to them. Trying to make sense of his work in the Yaarot Menashe festival, as well as his endeavours as a band member and music entrepreneur, Omer Dayan uses the term hakla’ut-tarbut, or ‘agri-culture’, which he defines as ‘the cultivation of culture’. As he explains:

Omer, as his surname betrays, is an offshoot to one of Israel’s most renowned dynasties, whose name became synonymous with pioneering and military heroism. Moreover, unlike most of his friends, Omer still lives today with his family in the community where he was born and raised. Concomitantly, however, Omer also performs as a vocalist with the Shtuby Experience, a band that combines electronic music with live instruments and whose shows feature theatrical elements and incorporate multiple art forms. For more than a decade, Shtuby has performed at some of the biggest music festivals in the world, perhaps also because nothing in its music betrays its Israeli origin. Thus, as a community member, artist, and cultural producer, Omer’s activities transcend spatial and stylistic boundaries, encompassing the local environment within the ethos of a globalized DIY culture. The ‘agri-culture’ he cultivates, unlike the traditional agriculture of his father and grandfather, surpasses the myth of belonging associated with roots and places him within a rhizomatic and supra-local social network.

When working on farms and fields in their youth, the festival organisers learned to appreciate labour that required ‘dirtying one’s hands’ and gained skills they find useful today for setting up festivals. Observing them work in the fields and forests and operate agricultural machines and other tools for this purpose may create the impression that they are simply continuing the tradition of their parents and grandparents. While setting up the InDnegev festival site, the view from the window of the museum, now used as a temporary office, shows young people digging ditches, laying water pipes, and installing water fountains. The resemblance between the pioneers in old photographs hanging on the walls and those who were working outside cannot be ignored.

To some extent, the ‘indie pioneers’ are indeed continuing the tradition started by their grandparents, yet the purpose of their endeavours is different, as is the framing of the activity itself. More than reliving the experience of old-time pioneering, the young indie producers are dirtying their hands as they are guided by artistic global-informed DIY culture, one that presents an alternative to industrialized endeavour based on outsourcing and a rigid division of labour. Water pipes, fountains, tents and field-kitchens, so typical to kibbutz agriculture, youth movement summer camps, and army camps, are now integral to the local festival setup. These water pipes, however, are not meant to create facts on the ground, but rather to allow for holding an event of a translocal nature that will be dismantled and disappear within several days as if it never happened.

Cosmopolitanism versus Inter/nationalism

Aesthetic cosmopolitanism is often associated with the rise of a new middle class, for whom the cultivation of omnivorous taste signifies openness and liberalism, while in fact serving as a means of social distinction (Peterson and Kern Reference Peterson and Kern1996). An example is a study in which Motti Regev (Reference Regev, Delanty, Giorgi and Sassatelli2011) analyses artistic festivals in Israel that label themselves as ‘international’. Attendance at such events, Regev claims, can be regarded as a ritualistic pilgrimage in which ticket-buyers affirm their personal and collective identity as cosmopolitan subjects.

Despite some general similarities (i.e., stylistic diversity, off-mainstream performances), the indie festivals we studied differ from these events in that they reject a classifying, inter-national approach in favour of a cosmopolitan logic. Only occasionally do the festivals feature performances by overseas indie artists, and even then, these artists are of a niche character, whose presence does not necessarily dominate the attention of audiences. By contrast, prominent Israeli artists (i.e., Noga Erez, Assaf Avidan, Lola Marsh, Tatran, Liraz Charchi, to name just a few) enjoy wide fan bases both in Israel and abroad, and it is they who are considered the headliners of the festivals. Moreover, as noted earlier, these and many other artists incorporate no specifically Israeli elements in their musical style, language, or performance, and therefore classifying them as ‘Israeli’ constitutes an essentialist reduction that fails to capture both the music they produce and the lifestyle they lead.

The sense of holistic cosmopolitanism, as an alternative to perceived spatial discontinuity, may be illustrated by comparing InDnegev and Yaarot Menashe with another indie festival, Meteor, held in the summer of 2018. Despite some affinities between the events and the crews who organised them, Meteor’s organisers invested heavily in importing famous non-Israeli artists and prominently highlighted these artists in pre-festival announcements. What is significant here is not the unusual number of overseas artists participating, but rather the distinction the Meteor organisers introduced between different categories of artists – local and non-local – and hence the logic of differentiation that defines the festival’s identity.

This distinction was starkly evident in the way local artists were treated compared to visiting performers. For example, local and visiting artists were separated and placed in different areas of the site, and while the visiting artists enjoyed proper hospitality, including a range of refreshments, the local artists were left without even a basic supply of mineral water. Several Israeli musicians voiced their disappointment and frustration. Veteran musician Uri Brauner Kinrot (a.k.a. UBK), whose distinguished career spans over four continents, posted a biting message on his Facebook page:

Once again, it should be emphasised that the Meteor organisers were criticised not only for discriminating against Israeli musicians but also for merely differentiating artists based on national affiliation.

The approach presented by InDnegev and Yaarot Menashe promotes an alternative logic that is no longer anchored in inter/nationalism. As we have indicated, this perspective does not renounce nationally informed subjectivity altogether but rather treats it as a partial or temporary option. Taking the festival as an opportunity for an annual homecoming to the landscapes, communities, and activities that shaped their sense of self is not a sweet surrender to local or national sentiments on the part of the producers. In fact, inasmuch as their project is rooted in the local environment and contexts, it also seeks to transform that environment into a different place – into something unfamiliar to itself. Indeed, during the festival’s duration, as the crowds flock to the desert and the forest, gathering in front of stages blasting music in various (usual and unusual) styles, the event takes on the character of a ‘non-place’, similar to events in other ‘non-places’ around the world. But here again, stripping the desert and forest of their local characteristics does not indicate escapism into an abstract global sphere by subjects who alienate themselves from a local sense of belonging. On the contrary, it is precisely their comfortable and inherent sense of home that allows the organisers to operate within and upon the local; to add new layers of identity to it, much like their own.

As such, the work of Israeli indie producers offers a critical perspective on one of the central distinctions in the discussion about cosmopolitanism, namely, the differentiation between privileged elites – those ‘professional tourists’ in Zygmunt Bauman’s terms (Reference Bauman1998) – and passive consumers of global cultural products. Israeli indie practitioners do not fit into either of these categories. On the one hand, the freedom to move between different hubs across the globe and to take part in artistic productions marks them as a group enjoying significant privilege. On the other hand, they are very distant from the global elite on which Bauman has founded his theory. While they do hold relevant cultural capital – knowledge, language, skills – that allows them to communicate and operate with counterparts in many places around the world, they are also rather poor tourists whose professional background is very difficult to translate into material assets. The last few years have been another painful reminder of how much employment in the music business is unstable in Israel.