How 'Tamid Ohev Oti' became an unlikely Israeli anthem of 2024

It’s the most unlikely of hits in a most unlikely year.

“Tamid Ohev Oti” (“Always Loves Me”) by pop Mizrahi singer Sasson Shaulov has captured the minds, hearts, and toe taps of Israelis, transcending political, social, and religious affiliation.

Currently at the top of all the pop radio station charts, from Galei Tzahal to Reshet Gimmel, the song has millions of views on YouTube, is played at weddings and events, and frequently features on Channel 14’s The Patriots program. 

An amalgam of Mizrahi, hassidic, and Mediterranean influences, the song transcends all of those genres to become quintessentially Israeli. Its origins trace back to Breslov Hassidism, with lyrics inspired by Rabbi Shalom Arush. Its ecstatic refrain, climbing in modulation and reaching a catharsis reminiscent of the Na-Nach-Nachma-Nachman vans music blared out at Jerusalem street intersections by Breslov-dancing hippies: “Hashem loves me, and everything will be good, even better.”

The song has been recorded by artists Yair Elitzur, Kobi Peretz, and Itzik Dadia. But it is Shaulov’s version, released in September, that has taken off and become ubiquitous on the local musical landscape.

'A beautiful, happy life'

Its uplifting nature resonates with listeners, offering a sense of transcendence, connection, and devotion. The hypnotic and infectious rhythm makes listeners want to rise to their feet, lift their hands to the heavens, and sing: “Even better, even better.”

Its promise? Absolute happiness: “There will be livelihood, wealth, matches for the unmarried, and complete health.” Essentially, “A beautiful, happy life, year after year.”

After more than a year of war, and with 101 hostages still languishing in Gaza, the rise of “Tamid Ohev Oti” coincides with a deep longing for positivity, overshadowing critiques, leaks, and failures. 

Is its success simply a desire to believe that there are better days ahead, or a concession that maybe hope and gratitude is the only way to get through these times?

For the same reason, it’s become a sensation – accentuating the positive – it’s also been criticized for sugarcoating the reality of today’s struggling society and for sounding like just another song one hears sung with fervor at religious weddings.

According to musicologist David Peretz, a longtime musician, songwriter, and lecturer on Israeli music at Sapir Academic College in Sderot, the song has landed at a moment in which the cultural norms have shifted in the country. The one special element that made this song big is demographics. The demographics in Israel have changed significantly in the last few years,” he told The Jerusalem Post.

“In the past, Israeli culture was the culture of the minority that thought it was the majority. In the past few years, with the rise of a type of music that could be called ‘religious pop,’ God has become a pop star. A lot of people commented, ‘What’s this, where did it come from? The religious are taking over, the settlers are taking over.’ In reality, they were always there, but they didn’t have legitimacy to be a part of mainstream Israeli culture.”

Peretz, who also researches Mizrahi music at the Tammuz Institute, provided a story that he says explains the song’s popularity across the Israeli cultural spectrum.“Yesterday, I was near Haifa at a non-kosher restaurant, and there was a woman working there in modern dress, tights, and a halter top, but when she entered a room, she kissed the mezuza on the wall. And that’s the whole story with this song,” he said.

“It’s perfectly clear that not everybody who’s singing along to it today actually is a believer. But it doesn’t hurt. I’m sure that the song is a guilty pleasure of north Tel Avivians. They may not believe that ‘Hashem loves me,’ but [they feel] ‘Let me just enjoy this for a minute... because what else is there to do?’”

“I see this integration as a positive development in the extreme, for Israeli culture,” Peretz added.

Some may call it sticking their heads in the sand or accepting a messianic, benevolent universe, but  “Tamid Ohev Oti” has become a cultural touchstone, offering an alternative lens: a parallel universe where life is indeed good – and might just get better. 

It’s more than a song; it’s a phenomenon symbolizing denial and escapism. Perhaps, it suggests, we’re not as badly off as the headlines imply.