Meet Gali Givon: The Israeli artist redefining grunge-pop

Okay, let's talk about something that doesn't involve doom-scrolling through your ex's Instagram stories for once. Meet Gali Givon, a 24-year-old Israeli artist who's basically what would happen if Lana Del Rey and a grunge band had a baby, raised it on Led Zeppelin, and then let it loose in a recording studio with some serious emotional baggage to work through.

And honestly? We're here for it.

Givon isn't your typical pop princess churning out formulaic hits about heartbreak and healing. She's the first international artist signed to Universal Israel, which is kind of a big deal when you think about it. But what makes her actually interesting isn't the label—it's the fact that she's managed to create something that sounds like it came from the beautiful chaos of contradictions we all carry around.

Her music blends melancholic, angelic vocals with raw rock-pop energy and dynamic beats. If that sounds like a recipe for disaster, well, sometimes the best art comes from controlled chaos. Critics have described her sound as a fusion of artists like Lana Del Rey, Britney Spears, Tom Morello, and Timbaland, with a grunge heart wrapped in pop. Which, let's be honest, sounds like the Spotify playlist of someone having a very specific type of emotional breakdown.

Here's where it gets interesting. Givon was raised on classic rock—we're talking Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd, the kind of music that makes you feel like you understand the universe at 2 AM. But she didn't stay there. She gravitated towards grunge and metal, which makes perfect sense if you've ever been a teenager with feelings.

This musical journey from classic rock to grunge to pop isn't just random genre-hopping. It's the sound of someone figuring out how to express the messy, complicated reality of being human. And let's face it, most of us are walking contradictions anyway. We cry at dog videos and then immediately get road rage at someone driving too slowly. We want to save the world and also can't be bothered to recycle that one plastic bottle.

Givon gets this. She explores her own feelings and contradictions in her music, often drawing on personal experiences that feel uncomfortably relatable. Her song "Scared" is about having two contradicting sides within herself—one soft and empathic, the other "borderline dangerous." The music video has a slasher-oriented visual style inspired by thrillers and horror movies, because apparently, she's not afraid to lean into the dark side of her psyche.

Let's break down some of her tracks, because song titles can tell you a lot about an artist's headspace:

"'Till I Kill It" sounds like the kind of song you'd put on while aggressively cleaning your apartment after a breakup. "Rabbit Hole" probably captures that feeling of falling down internet rabbit holes at 3 AM, discovering conspiracy theories about your favorite childhood cartoon. "Lolita" is a loaded reference that suggests she's not afraid to tackle complicated, controversial themes.

But it's "Some Things Don't Matter" that really gets you in the feelings. This track was written about the feeling of not having accomplished enough when transitioning from teen to adulthood. You know, that existential dread that hits when you realize you're not where you thought you'd be by now? Yeah, that one. It's the song for everyone who's ever felt like they're failing at being a proper adult while simultaneously not being sure what that even means.

Then there's "Better," an alt-pop track about self-improvement and knowing that you're the one who knows best. It's like therapy set to music, but with better production values and probably fewer uncomfortable silences.

Givon isn't just creating music; she's building a complete aesthetic universe. The music video for "Scared" with its slasher-oriented visual style shows an artist who understands that sometimes the best way to express internal conflict is through external drama. Horror movie aesthetics might seem like an odd choice for a pop song, but when you're exploring the "borderline dangerous" side of your personality, why not embrace the cinematic possibilities?

This visual approach suggests someone who grew up understanding that music videos are supposed to be more than just pretty people lip-syncing in expensive locations. They're supposed to make you feel something, even if that something is slightly unsettled.

Here's what makes Givon's approach so compelling: she's not trying to fit into a neat category. Grunge traditionally rejected the polished perfection of pop music, but Givon has found a way to have both. She's got the emotional rawness and authenticity of grunge wrapped up in the accessibility and dynamic energy of pop.

This shouldn't work, but it does. Maybe it's because we're all tired of choosing sides. Maybe we want music that acknowledges that life is messy and complicated, but still sounds good enough to play at a party. Or maybe we're just ready for artists who aren't afraid to be contradictory.

The fact that she's drawing inspiration from rock legends while creating something entirely her own shows an artist who respects the past without being trapped by it. She's not trying to recreate the grunge era; she's using its emotional honesty as a foundation for something new.

In an era of carefully curated social media personas and algorithmic content creation, there's something refreshing about an artist who's willing to explore the uncomfortable parts of growing up. Givon's music acknowledges that the transition from teenager to adult isn't just about getting a job and paying bills—it's about figuring out who you are when you contain multitudes.

Her approach to contradiction—embracing both the soft and dangerous sides of personality—feels particularly relevant. We're living in a time when people are expected to have consistent personal brands, but real humans are inconsistent. We're capable of kindness and cruelty, often within the same day. Givon's music gives us permission to be complicated.

Givon represents something happening across music right now: the breakdown of rigid genre boundaries. Artists are increasingly comfortable pulling from multiple influences to create something that reflects their actual listening habits rather than industry categories.

This genre-blending approach mirrors how we actually consume music. Your playlist probably jumps from indie rock to hip-hop to pop to something you can't quite categorize. Givon's music sounds like it belongs in that kind of playlist—not because it's trying to be everything to everyone, but because it's authentic to someone who grew up with access to all kinds of music.

What Givon is doing with her music career feels like what many of us are trying to do with our lives: figure out how to be authentically ourselves while still being palatable to the world. She's not hiding her contradictions or trying to smooth over the rough edges. Instead, she's making them part of the artistic statement.

This approach requires a certain kind of confidence—the willingness to be vulnerable while also being bold. It's the difference between sharing your feelings and performing your feelings, and Givon seems to understand that distinction.

As Givon continues to develop her sound and build her career, it'll be interesting to see how she evolves this grunge-pop fusion. The challenge for any artist who builds their identity around contradiction is maintaining authenticity while growing and changing.

But based on her willingness to explore uncomfortable emotions and her visual commitment to her aesthetic, she seems like someone who's in it for the long haul. This isn't just a phase or a marketing strategy—it's the sound of someone who's figured out how to turn personal complexity into art.

And frankly, we could use more artists who aren't afraid to be complicated. The world is messy enough that our music might as well reflect that reality, even if it comes wrapped in a catchy melody and a horror movie aesthetic.