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A new dance club in Williamsburg is bringing Tel Aviv party culture to Brooklyn
(New York Jewish Week) — On a recent Saturday at Silo, a new dance club in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, an aerialist was dangling above the crowd, doing flips on a hula hoop in front of hundreds of people, while hypnotic house music boomed through the venue’s world-class sound system. It was 1 a.m. and the party was just getting started.
Alex Neuhausen, a 39-year-old Jewish musician-turned-club owner, told the New York Jewish Week that this experience of starting the night well past most people’s bedtimes is inspired by Tel Aviv, the beachside Israeli city famous for its club culture.
“In Tel Aviv, they all get dinner with their family and everyone hangs out at 10 or 11, and then you hang out before the club until 2 or 3, and then you go to the club,” Neuhausen said. “They keep super-late hours. You turn the entire night into an experience. We want to do that.”
Some of the biggest night club venues in Brooklyn can hold thousands of people. Silo, by contrast, holds only 500, which carries a more intimate feel. The club is located on the eastern fringes of Williamsburg inside an repurposed airplane hangar, and its high ceiling provides an open, airy atmosphere to what would otherwise feel like a tightly packed room.
An aerialist performs while hanging above the crowd at Silo in Brooklyn. (Courtesy/Annie Forrest)
The team behind Silo is “mostly Jewish,” Neuhausen said, including co-founder Lily Wolfson, the booking consultant, the sound team and the lighting engineers. Neuhausen’s girlfriend, Ariel Lasevoli, who is the club’s director of performance and production, is half-Jewish. A massive two-sided mural, which separates the main club room from the bar area, was created by the Israeli artist Yoshi.
The striking mural is a piece that seems to change after a guest consumes a few drinks while the music plays. The mural portrays a seemingly endless array of black smoke or fire — gray clouds with some white streaks of electricity in the middle of it — but Neuhausen said it is open to interpretation.
“The front represents chaos,” Neuhausen said about the mural, which stretches 15 feet tall and 24 feet wide. “The show room side is a mix of organic patterns, fractals and flowers, but it never quite resolves into anything if you look closely. It’s like a Rorschach [test]; the viewer gives it meaning.”
The Tel Aviv club scene is only one of Silo’s Jewish inspirations: Neuhausen said his interest in dance music goes back to a young age, when he went to his cousins’ bar and bat mitzvahs in the Washington, D.C. area, where he grew up.
“What’s really striking about going to a bar mitzvah is that everyone dances,” Neuhausen said. “It’s the entire family, from the old folks to everyone. It’s just this joyous occasion. American white bread culture doesn’t have a lot of these elements.”
If a bar mitzvah party is a familial, albeit sometimes corny celebration that involves dancing with your loved ones, then it shares a great deal with the ethos of Silo — namely, to provide a place to party all night long while maintaining a welcoming feeling. It’s the antithesis of the exclusive environment that characterizes many high-end Manhattan and Brooklyn nightclubs, which often come with judgmental door policies and an intense, cooler-than-thou attitude.
At Silo on a Saturday earlier this month, the vibe was almost the complete opposite. The security guard cracked jokes with those waiting in line while checking IDs, and Neuhausen himself took our coats as we walked through the door. The attendees were not just Instagram models; college students, queer folks dressed in drag and 50-somethings were also in the mix. It wasn’t a sold out show, but there were nearly 400 people in the room, and almost everyone was focused on the music.
House music — which combines four-on-the-floor drum beats with R&B vocals and other layers — is Silo’s main focus, a style of music that originated at Black LGBTQ clubs in Chicago and Detroit in the 1980s. It’s a history that, Neuhausen said, shares commonalities with the Jewish people.
“These marginalized communities, maybe almost in spite of the oppression, generate great art,” Neuhausen said. “Jews have a lot in common with that shared cultural experience of oppression.”
At Silo in Brooklyn, the club takes inspiration from Tel Aviv’s party culture. (Courtesy/Annie Forrest)
Neuhausen’s father is Jewish, but not “devout about practicing,” he said. “We only went to synagogue a couple of times but I picked up a lot of cultural Jewish identity from him,” he added. “Whenever I see my extended family, it’s much more Jewish.”
In 2012, Neuhausen formed a band with Wolfson and they moved from San Francisco to New York, where Neuhausen took up residence in a garage in Williamsburg. Eventually, he turned the space into a makeshift venue for performances that included bands, comedians, aerialists and eventually DJs.
By 2017, Neuahusen and Wolfson’s parties were growing, so they opened up a commercial space called “Secret Loft” in Manhattan, which held only 80 people. It’s where, over the next five years, Neuhausen learned how to perfect the art of throwing parties — and where he assembled the team that would later go on to build Silo.
“It did really well immediately,” Neuhausen said. “We thought this was a thing we could actually do for a living. That was really the dream.”
Those parties ultimately became too big for the space. Wanting to be closer to the booming club scene in Brooklyn, the team eventually opened Silo, which is located next to the established megaclub Avant Gardner.
At Silo, the goal is to create a space that’s welcoming for all. “Last weekend, we had the DJs on the floor, on a little bit of an elevated platform,” Neuhausen said. “They were surrounded by people on all sides — everybody is facing inwards. It’s very different from a concert, it feels more like a community event.” During the week, the venue also hosts DJ workshops.
Neuhausen added that the booking team is “two women and a gay guy,” and the goal is to bring women DJs and people of color into the club. Neuhausen noted that, despite its origins, “there tends to be a lot of white guys” within some sub-genres of house music.
“We are booking more eclectic artists than a lot of venues,” he said. “We’re not about making people feel uncool. We’re not elitist. We book elite level talent, but we want everyone to see it.”
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The post A new dance club in Williamsburg is bringing Tel Aviv party culture to Brooklyn appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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The Spanish Sabotage: How NATO’s Weakest Link Endangers the War Effort
Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sanchez speaks during a press conference after attending a special summit of European Union leaders to discuss transatlantic relations, in Brussels, Belgium, Jan. 23, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Yves Herman
As the Western alliance entered the second month of its existential struggle against the Iranian regime, the southern anchor of NATO officially buckled.
In a calculated move that serves as a strategic windfall for Tehran, the Spanish government — led by Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez — closed its national airspace and sovereign military bases to United States forces engaged in “Operation Epic Fury.”
By branding the mission to dismantle Iran’s nuclear infrastructure as “illegal and reckless,” Madrid has transitioned from a passive free-rider to an active obstructionist, prioritizing a radical domestic agenda over the survival of the trans-Atlantic security architecture.
This is not merely a tactical disagreement; it is a textbook manifestation of “lawful Islamism” and the erosion of Western resolve. While American and Israeli pilots risk their lives to prevent a nuclear-armed mullahcracy from finalizing its breakout, Spain has opted for a “Neutrality of the Grave” that threatens to lengthen the conflict and embolden the Axis of Resistance.
The immediate impact of Spain’s decision is felt at the fuel pump and the flight line.
By denying the US the use of Naval Station Rota and Morón Air Base — historical gatekeepers of the Mediterranean — Sánchez has severed the primary logistical “air bridge” for Operation Epic Fury. US refueling tankers, including KC-135s and KC-46s, have been forced to relocate to more distant hubs in Germany and the United Kingdom, creating a congested bottleneck in Northern Europe.
Rerouting around the Iberian Peninsula adds between 300 and 800 nautical miles to every mission, a “strategic tax” that adds up to two hours of flight time for time-sensitive strikes.
On a typical widebody military aircraft, this delay consumes an additional 13,000 pounds of fuel per sortie. In a theater where seconds determine whether a mobile Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) missile launcher is neutralized or fired at an Israeli city, Spain’s “neutrality” is measured in the blood of its allies.
Spain’s sabotage is driven by the internal mechanics of the Sánchez government — a fragile minority coalition captured by radical left and Islamist-aligned forces. The influence of parties like Sumar and EH Bildu — a group with historical ties to Basque terrorism — has effectively outsourced Madrid’s foreign policy to a “Red-Green Alliance” that views the US and Israel as greater enemies than the IRGC.
This ideological subversion was punctuated by the unfiltered rebuke of Spain’s Transport Minister, Óscar Puente, who directed a statement at the Israeli leadership that has since reverberated across the globe: “We are not going with you even around the corner, you genocidal bastard.”
This is the language of rupture, signaling that Spain no longer considers itself a partner in the defense of Western values.
The hollow morality of the government’s stance was dismantled on March 29 by General Fernando Alejandre, the former Chief of the Spanish Defense Staff (JEMAD).
In an interview with ABC Spain, Alejandre warned that the “No to War” slogans used by the cabinet are merely “simplistic advertisements” that ignore the topographical reality of modern threats. Alejandre noted that Spain has “sublimated the word peace,” mistakenly believing that an “unjust peace” is preferable to a necessary defense, a path that inevitably leads to total indefension.
Alejandre’s most haunting warning concerned Spain’s own sovereignty. He identified Morocco as a “certain and clear threat” that is closely watching Spain’s lack of a solid defense culture. By alienating the United States in its hour of conflict, Spain is gambling with the security of the Canary Islands, Ceuta, and Melilla. As US strategic interest shifts toward Rabat — a pro-Western partner and Abraham Accords signatory that has seen a 17.6% increase in its 2026 defense budget — Spain risks being left alone on its own southern flank.
The economic repercussions are already beginning to bite. President Donald Trump has characterized Spain as a “terrible” ally, and instructed US Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent to prepare a total trade embargo against Madrid. Furthermore, by complicating the mission to reopen the Strait of Hormuz, Spain is directly contributing to the global energy shock that has sent Brent crude toward $110 per barrel.
The Spanish sabotage is a case study in the danger of allowing domestic extremism to dictate international security. When a NATO member chooses to facilitate the survival of the Iranian regime by weaponizing its geography against its allies, the alliance must react. The “habit of consultation” that has defined NATO since 1949 is broken. For the mission to deny Iran nuclear weapons to succeed, the West must recognize its weakest links and forge new partnerships with those who demonstrate a genuine commitment to victory.
The cost of Madrid’s betrayal is a grave that the Iranian regime is currently digging for the entire West; Sánchez is merely making sure the US has a harder time stopping them.
Amine Ayoub, a fellow at the Middle East Forum, is a policy analyst and writer based in Morocco. Follow him on X: @amineayoubx
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From Spain to Passover: The Problem of Inherited Guilt
Soccer Football – Champions League – Paris St Germain v Atletico Madrid – Parc des Princes, Paris, France – November 6, 2024 A banner on support of Palestine is displayed in the stands before the match. Photo: Reuters/Stephanie Lecocq
In 2019, former Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador formally asked Spain to apologize for abuses committed during his country’s conquest of Mexico. At the center of that request is Spain’s role in the destruction of the Aztec capital, Tenochtitlan, in 1521—an event that marked the beginning of Spanish colonial rule on the site of what is now Mexico City.
Current President Claudia Sheinbaum has continued to press the issue, and Spain’s King Felipe VI recently said that the conquest “didn’t work out as originally intended and there was a lot of abuse.”
Sheinbaum acknowledged that the remark fell short of a full apology, but nevertheless called it a gesture of reconciliation that would help improve relations between their two countries. For her, this gesture served to validate and dignify Mexico’s indigenous population, and help ensure that history is viewed not only from the perspective of the colonizers but of the colonized as well.
Even though these events occurred centuries ago, the argument for apology rests on the idea that nations, like corporations, have a kind of legal and historical continuity. States endure beyond the lifetimes of their citizens. Laws persist, institutions evolve rather than disappear, and national identity is transmitted across generations. Spain’s monarchy, like the Spanish state itself, presents itself as an institution of deep historical continuity. With that comes responsibility as well.
But this logic raises a fundamental problem. The individuals responsible for the conquest are long dead, and those offering apologies today played no role in those events. If individuals cannot inherit guilt from their parents, on what basis can entire nations inherit moral responsibility for actions taken centuries ago?
This sits uneasily with a core principle of modern human rights: that individuals are born free and equal, responsible for their own actions, and should not be judged based on the deeds of others. Once we depart from that principle, we begin to assign moral status not by what people have done, but by who their ancestors were.
More broadly, an emphasis on inherited guilt encourages us to look backward for solutions to present problems. When we encounter injustice today, should our first question be who to blame in the distant past — or what we can do now to make things better? A politics rooted in historical grievance risks creating an endless cycle of accusation and counter-accusation, with no endpoint.
This dynamic is visible in debates over Israel and the Palestinians. Some Palestinian activists center their narrative of the “Nakba,” arguing that peace requires addressing what they view as historical injustices from 1948. On the other side, many emphasize Jewish historical and indigenous claims stretching back millennia, arguing that recognition of that history is essential to any resolution, as well as Jewish presence in the land before 1948. These competing historical frameworks can be difficult, if not impossible, to reconcile.
It would be more fruitful to focus on what political arrangements would best advance the rights of all people living today, regardless of ethnicity. But we can only do that if we are willing to recognize each person as a new individual, equally worthy of freedoms and protections, regardless of what we believe their ancestors may have done.
If we extend the logic of historical responsibility consistently, it becomes impossible to sustain. For example, at the Passover seder we recount the story of the ten plagues. If modern Spain bears responsibility for destruction five centuries ago, should Israel, by the same logic, be forced to apologize to Egypt for the excess suffering described in that story?
And if Israel must apologize for the plagues, then Egypt should also apologize for its original enslavement of the Israelites. How would such a process begin — and where would it end? Is this really what we want to argue about? Current times present us with enough problems without importing conflicts from the past as well. The question for Spain and Mexico, as well as Israelis and Palestinians, is not how to assign guilt for the distant past, but how to uphold the rights and dignity of people living today.
Shlomo Levin holds a Master’s in International Law and Human Rights from the United Nations University for Peace and uses fiction to examine the tension between human rights theory and practice. Find him at www.shalzed.com.
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A Message of Hope Ahead of Pesach: Israeli Negev Bedouin’s Response to Iranian Rockets
A drone view shows a damage in a residential neighbourhood, following a night of Iranian missile strikes which injured dozens of Israelis, amid the US-Israel conflict with Iran, in Dimona, southern Israel, March 22, 2026. REUTERS/Roei Kastro
The Palestinian Authority (PA) wants Palestinians to believe that Israeli Arabs hate their country — Israel — and the Jews living in it.
The reality, however, is not like that at all.
When commenting on Israeli Arabs, whom they call the Palestinians from “Interior Palestine,” or from the “lands occupied in ’48” (the year Israel was established) they vigorously promote the lie that Israel targets Israeli Arabs.
Commentary by columnist Omar Hilmi Al-Ghoul, in the official PA daily and former advisor to former PA Prime Minister Salam Fayyad on national affairs, is a case in point:
Omar Hilmi Al-Ghoul
The members of the Palestinian people in the Interior [i.e., Palestinian term for Israel] … reject all the actions of falsification and coexistence between the true Arab Palestinian narrative and the fake and false Zionist narrative, because confirming the Zionist narrative … means confirming the legitimacy and eligibility of the Zionist presence on the Arab Palestinian land.” [emphasis added]
[Official PA daily Al-Hayat Al-Jadida, Aug. 28, 2021]
But following recent Iranian missile attacks against the southern Israeli towns of Arad and Dimona, nearby Israeli Bedouin Arab communities posted in “local Facebook groups to offer their homes, food, and messages of solidarity” [The Jerusalem Post, March 24, 2026] to Israelis/Jews harmed by the rockets.
This is the exact opposite response of what you would expect from a “hostile” population:
Israeli Arab Bedouin school principal Sager Abu Srehan: “I think the real reality is what matters. We live together with the Jewish society as brothers, on the same land and under the same sky.
We study together, work together, and this country belongs to all of us. We are people who belong here and who love our country … The partnership between us as a society, with many examples of cooperation, is what creates the beautiful colors in the mosaic of Israeli society.” [emphasis added]
[Israeli school principal Sager Abu Srehan, The Jerusalem Post, March 24, 2026]
The dystopian image that the PA promotes of Israeli society tumbles like a deck of cards when confronted with the Israeli reality as a democratic country where all citizens — Jews and Arabs — are treated equally according to law. It is a level of freedom that, ironically, the PA does not come close to bestowing upon its own population.
The author is a contributor to Palestinian Media Watch, where a version of this article first appeared.