Israeli singer Inbar Bakal wants to be a star with songs in Hebrew and Arabic.

Santa Ana "Do you hear it? Do you hear it?" the teacher shrieked. "The wolf is chasing Peter!"

The other kids in Inbar Bakal's class seemed frightened by their teacher's enthusiasm for Sergei Prokofiev's "Peter and the Wolf." But Bakal, then in early grade school, was hooked.

"Looking back, it was hysterical how much into it she was," Bakal says of her teacher's narration.

"But I loved it. She taught me that music can do that to you, it can make you feel so alive…

"All you have to do is listen and have an imagination."

These days, Bakal's imagination runs toward a world where her music might reach a multicultural audience, a world of listeners who don't care about racial, ethnic or religious barriers.

The Israeli-born singer, now 28, who moved to Santa Ana six years ago, is a rarity in music circles, singing in both Hebrew and Arabic.

It's a tough bridge to straddle – maybe even a dangerous one.

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Bakal's first full CD, "Song of Songs," won't debut until May. And, for now, she's mostly a star-in waiting, with minor followings in Southern California and the Middle East. She also has (in what is now a seemingly obligatory step in music stardom) a MySpace page with nearly 9,000 friends.

Still, as a singer, Bakal has the potential to reach a couple of big audiences – and to tick off a lot of people.

First, there are potential religious objections. Her music transforms traditional Hebrew and Middle Eastern rhythms and melodies into a modern electronica beat, so the Old Testament and traditional Muslim crowds might hear a little blaspheme.

But Bakal says the music is an ode to her own, eclectic, 21st century background as a Jewish woman with Iraqi, Yemenite and Israeli roots. And, she adds, she's received few negative comments from a fan base that includes both Muslims and Jews.

"Music is universal," Bakal says.

"I sing in different languages. But I think there's a message everyone understands. Believe what you want, and say what you feel, but why create divisions? For me, music can be honest without being hateful."

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Raised in the Tel Aviv suburb, Herzelia, Bakal says she was largely sheltered from the violence in the country where she spent most of her youth. Her Jewish family, who had escaped persecution in Yemen and Iraq, often had passionate dinner table discussions on the ongoing conflict in the Gaza Strip.

But, Bakal did see cultural violence play out every day. Palestinians and Israelis stuck to their own worlds, with Palestinians typically relegated to low-paying jobs. And, because of that, she says, the possibility of violence was a constant, everyday reality. She says she still avoids large crowds, and the sight of a person in a long trench coat makes her heart pound.

"It hurts watching (violence) that, or hearing that stuff go on, but you develop a thick skin and you move on," Bakal says. "It's the only way I know how to live."

Her escape was music. As a member of her school choir, Bakal traveled internationally, singing in showcases and festivals. When she was 12, her choir performed on the soundtrack to the 1993 film Schindler's List.

"I always felt like music was a connection to people, like I was baring my soul," Bakal said. "It's like a feeling of the divine touching you."

At 16, her Kabbalist grandfather made an unexpected prediction.

"I saw a star in the sky," the mystic Jewish scholar told her. "It said you will be a great singer someday."

But the dream would have to wait. At 18, Bakal fulfilled her country's mandatory military requirement by enlisting in the Israeli Air Force.

She served four years, including two years in its Anti-Aircraft Combat Division, and became the first female officer in her battalion. Though she initially wasn't thrilled with her promotion, she found that supervising a group of men – many not keen to the idea of answering to a 5'3" female officer – taught her the value of mental toughness.

"I learned a lot about myself and that when push comes to shove, I can handle it," Bakal said. "I didn't cave."

In 2003, Bakal moved to the United States, arriving with two suitcases and very little money. After a brief stay with a sister on the East Coast, she made it to Southern California, where she scouted for producers who could help her refine her music.

Eventually, she connected with Carmen Rizzo, a well-known producer of world music and electronica who has worked with artists as diverse as Cirque du Soleil and Coldplay.

Their working relationship was not, initially, a lovefest.

"It was a little too safe for my taste," Rizzo says of Bakal's first demos.

But Rizzo encouraged Bakal to challenge herself artistically without losing her authenticity. For Bakal, that meant returning to her roots, a mix of Western classical, Arabic and Israeli music.

"She's a unique girl," Rizzo says.

"She draws a lot of her inspiration from her own experiences, her loyalty to her own faith, culture and country. Whether you understand the language or not, you can feel what she's singing."

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"Song of Songs" could be a flash point.

The CD is named after Old Testament verses that recount a love between a man and a woman. Bakal describes it as the Bible's "most sensual" chapter. It's a take on scripture that she believes might not sit well with orthodox Jews, among others.

But, so far, Bakal says she hasn't been ostracized. In fact, in March, she performed at Jewlicious, at the request of the orthodox and reform Jews who put on the annual music festival in Long Beach.

"I'm a liberal Jew, but I don't think that makes me less of a Jew," Bakal says.

"I haven't heard the backlash yet," she adds.

"But I'm sure (it will come.)"