5th stop: The 80s and 90s
The Lebanon War
and the Military Bands' Comeback
The military bands’ retreat from the spotlight coincided with a surprising historical turn in the late 1970s: the peace treaty with Egypt—Israel’s largest and most formidable enemy. After four bloody wars, the leaders of both nations met for a historic reconciliation, declaring: "No more war, no more bloodshed."
The agreement sparked hopes for a brighter future. This long-awaited peace promised a new reality that would transform the face of Israel, and perhaps the entire Middle East. The media, both local and international, issued rosy forecasts of regional harmony, and Israeli citizens prepared themselves for an era of tranquility—days in which they could finally remove the security concerns that had dominated their lives since the state’s founding and dreamed that their leaders would divert resources to economy, society, education, and culture—as in any properly functioning state.
It seemed that as peace arrived and wars ended, the military might also conclude its historic role. This felt closer than ever—on the southern front, the IDF reduced its forces to a minimum, and relative quiet prevailed on other borders as well.
The peace euphoria lasted only a few years.
In 1982, war broke out again. The IDF was called once more to defend the borders—this time in the north, against Lebanon. Reserve forces were mobilized to reinforce the standing army for what appeared to be a limited operation: "Operation Peace for Galilee."
For the first time since the state’s inception, there were no established, institutionalized military bands to entertain the troops and raise their morale. Instead, that role was filled, in a massive way, by civilian artists who either volunteered or were called up for reserve duty.
These civilian artists arrived during the first months of the war—its most militarily significant phase. What followed, however, became a "rolling event"—a protracted conflict that lasted 18 years at varying intensities, simmering in the background of Israeli daily life.
This was also the first war conducted amidst deep public controversy over its very existence, lacking a national consensus. When agreement vanishes, internal disputes grow, politics become polarized, and there is no longer a single song to unite everyone—no musical soundtrack to accompany both the soldiers at the front and the home front.
The soundtrack of Israeli reality detached itself from the consensus, and music scattered in every direction: "Old Hebrew" songs alongside Greek-flavored Mizrahi music full of trills (Silsulim); Chassidic soul music and heavy rock; Spanish rock and Brazilian samba.
The influence of British and American bands grew, dominating what would become the "Eighties Playlist." The youth of the 1980s connected more with "foreign music" (Musika Lo’ezit), categorized into a kaleidoscope of imported genres: beyond classic rock and pop came Dance, New Wave, Eurodance, Punk, Metal, Rap, and Soul. Each suited a different audience, a different preference, and a different mood.
The "Hebrew Song" genre lost its dominance but refused to be defeated. Its audience had matured—Israelis in their 40s and up who struggled to adapt to the musical deluge flooding the charts and clubs. They remained loyal to Hebrew music with melodies and lyrics that could be sung at a communal sing-along or a state ceremony—songs they were accustomed to, which evoked a longing for different times.
And then...
Just as Hebrew songs were being pushed to the margins, they received an unexpected lifeline. Chief of Staff Raful completed his term as the army was sinking into the Lebanese mire. In his place, a new Chief of Staff was appointed: Moshe Levy, who decided to re-establish the military bands. For the nation's 'middle generation,' this was joyful news—a hope to restore the crown to its former glory.
In 1984, the first auditions were held. Within months, the "new-old" bands were ready: Northern, Southern, and Central Command, the Nahal Band, and a new unit: the Ground Forces Command (Mafchash).
The hit parades were once again decorated with songs by the military bands, reviving the old style. Once more, it was the Nahal Band that led the way, producing the biggest hits.
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In that same year, 1984, Israel held national elections.
The results did not yield a clear mandate between the right-wing and left-center blocs, resulting in a political stalemate. Yet, the outcome brought a sense of relief to large swaths of the Israeli public—particularly the generation that had come of age in the state’s early years. They had felt the new political order was sidelining them and their secular, liberal Zionist values.
Their parties may not have won outright, but their representatives received a respectable share of political power. This allowed them to walk with their heads held high once more, feeling they were still part of the mainstream and that the values they were raised on—and their longing for the "good old Israeli culture"—were still alive. The re-emergence of the military bands came at a perfect time, fitting perfectly into the general sense that "their music" was returning to center stage.
The IDF’s "Entertainment and Culture Branch," which had shrunk significantly since the bands were first dismantled, resumed operations with the same vigor as its glory days, paving the way for the "Great Comeback."
But the comeback—fueled by a massive PR campaign—was a disappointment. After months of rehearsals, the bands took the stage in their reconstructed format, only to prove that expectations were inflated. Anyone who heard them could tell they had made little effort to modernize. Producers fell back on tired formulas: military-life ditties, sketches about clumsy drivers and quartermasters, or confused officers and weary "songs of the homeland."
They looked and sounded like a faded copy of the classic 1960s and 70s models—the same troupes of young soldiers, the same choreography, but without any of the charm or relevance needed to connect with a modern, sophisticated nation.
Even inside the army there was no great excitement about reviving the military bands.
There, in the soldiers' "second home," the bands' captive audience, they preferred contemporary stars like Danny Sanderson, Ofra Haza, Haim Moshe, or Yehoram Gaon. When they wanted to laugh, amateur sketches about a sergeant major's mustache or an illiterate clerk were no match for the professional brilliance of "HaGashash HaHiver," Yossi Banai, or Gadi Yagil.
This was not a true renewal. Instead, Bringing the bands back to life branded them as anachronistic, a label that would stick, perhaps for good..
They held on for five years before the crumbling began.
One by one, the bands stopped producing new programs until the large, iconic troupes were completely disbanded. They were split once more into small, modest ensembles with neither pretension nor fame—just individual links in a chain of entertainment provided by the IDF to its regular and reserve troops.
The last to hold out was the Nahal Band. In 1990, it managed one last hit that struck a chord with the Israeli public—a song written by Naomi Shemer to honor the mass Aliyah from the Soviet Union: 'Banayich Merachok' (Your Sons from Afar).
Drawing on Isaiah’s ancient prophecy, Naomi Shemer’s final masterpiece transformed the massive Soviet Aliyah into a profound, moving anthem of biblical homecoming for modern Israel.
Here is the song in its original version:
The Nahal Band performs "Banayich Merachok" (1990)
"Who are these that fly as a cloud, and like doves to their windows? To bring your sons from afar..." (Isaiah 60)
Click here or on the image
to watch and listen on YouTube
By the early 1990s, the military bands had vanished from the media spotlight.
The IDF did not completely abandon the idea of providing entertainment for soldiers. Instead, it established smaller frameworks of entertainment units—both large and small—and incorporated them into "culture basket" within the Entertainment and Culture Branch. This diverse framework included theater troupes, dance ensembles, choirs, and instrumental orchestras.
The phenomenon of the "Military Band" finally dissipated, receding into the pages of nostalgia. For the young singers in these new, fragmented formations, there were no burgeoning careers and no legends woven around them. No original songs were composed for them, and talent agents no longer waited at the base gates to sign them while they were still in uniform. Most were discharged in total anonymity and went on to careers entirely unrelated to the entertainment industry.
The IDF remained relevant, maintaining its status as the nation's protector—one of the few institutions still held in broad consensus by all Israeli citizens. While the war in Lebanon persisted throughout the decade, a historic peace treaty was signed with Jordan, the former enemy on its eastern border. This allowed the military to reduce its presence on the eastern front and redirect its focus to the northern border.
As the decade drew to a close, the State of Israel celebrated its Jubilee—the 50th anniversary of its independence.
The centerpiece gala, "Jubilee Bells" (Pa'amonei HaYovel), marked the nation's milestones and achievements. The show featured a vast array of performers, including a large choir of soldiers from the IDF’s current musical ensembles.
In this grand celebration, the military bands were given a symbolic place as well.
During a segment dedicated to the IDF’s achievements, a group of singing soldiers stood behind a narrator as he recited a litany of heroic wars and operations etched into the nation's history. They served as a vocal backdrop, occasionally pausing to sing snippets of nostalgic melodies—songs like "Hen Efshar" and "Ha’amini Yom Yavo." Ironically, these were songs whose place on the historical timeline predated the bands themselves, coming from the era before their legend had even begun to take shape.
As if to encapsulate this nostalgia, a single line from a famous hit was woven into the performance, serving as a self-fulfilling prophecy: "We shall yet see other days" (Anachnu od nireh et hayamim ha'acherim).
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The "Jubilee Bells" gala (1998), featuring a military ensemble in a tribute to the legacy of the military bands.
Click on the image or the link here
to watch on YouTube. Timestamp: 2:07:00
The year 2000 was approaching—and they truly were different days.
The decades that followed are explored in the final chapter of the project, which is also the last stop on this musical journey into the ethos of the military bands.
End of the journey:
This is a chapter from the musical monograph on Israel’s IDF military bands—an extraordinary cultural phenomenon that flourished between the wars and shaped the music and culture of Israel for over 40 years.
The full monograph spans eight separate chapters, including an introduction, summary, and table of contents. You can explore the complete series by clicking the link below: