Folk dance is not something I knew much about growing up. I’ve discovered that a lot of teens in Europe study traditional partner dancing in preparation for their graduation balls – a habit that does not cross over into the US. Sure, I took dance classes as a child (e.g. ballet, tap, jazz) that were meant to entertain an audience but these had a very different relationship with culture or history.

I got a crash course in folk dance at the Sabatants festival last month. In the organizers’ own words, “Sabatants is a traditional dance festival that honours traditions and spreads the joy of dancing.” It normally happens once a year in the spring, but in 2018 a second festival also brought folk dance fans to Tartu in autumn. Things that I noticed or that surprised me about the local folk dance scene include:

1 The crowd has a sense of humor. Before this experience, I thought of folk dancing as a serious subject, done either by older generations fighting to keep the tradition alive or by children forced by their parents to participate. This idea was challenged the moment I walked in the door by funny signs leading the way to the top floor location. This was a place where traditions could actually be enjoyed more thoroughly by not taking everything too seriously.

2 Folk dancing is an all-ages affair. I had expected the age range to skew olde., but in reality, I would have a hard time estimating the average age of the attendees. There were men and women dancing with babies on their hips. There were parent-and-child musical acts. There were teens, adults, and older generations on the floor at any given moment – in one circular dance I held hands with a girl of maybe seven on one side and a middle-aged man on the other.

3 Anyone can be partners. One of the things that has often kept me out of partner dancing in the past is the strict division of gender roles and requirement of a partner. In this crowd, there were certainly couples who danced together, but it was just as common to see two women circling the floor together as it was to bump into a mixed gender pair. There are a variety of arm positions to choose from for the comfort of the couples. Many of the experienced dancers also seemed eager to bring newcomers into the group. The organizers encourage this, saying “There is always something new to learn from new partners, and it’s a good way to share your own experience with others.”

4 It’s a great cardio workout. Some dances shuffled around the room with small steps, while other songs inspired a barefoot blond to leap across the floor, twirling his partner in dizzying circles. No matter the pace of the current dance, I found myself breathing heavily after any session on the floor, but the moves themselves seemed accessible for all levels of fitness. Stamina simply dictated how often the dancers needed a break.

5 The instruments are unique. Every time I thought I saw an instrument that I recognized, I realized it was a slight variation. There are local versions of what I know as an accordion, a fiddle, a large cross-between-a-slide-guitar-and-a-xylophone (a zither?), and a small set of bagpipes. Quite often, the stomping feet on the dance floor also added the percussion element to the music being played.

6 It’s a very welcoming community. Jaan Sarv, who co-organizes Sabatants with fellow musician and dancer Leanne Barbo, told me that “There are no prerequisites. You don’t have to be a dancer. It’s for everybody.” One place that spirit is evident is in the non-existent dress code: jeans and a T-shirt? Sure. Flowing colorful skirt? Why not? Just make sure you bring shoes that weren’t worn outside…but socks or bare feet are also fine in a pinch. In addition to this atmosphere of acceptance, integration is built into many of the dances. You might change partners fifteen times or more in a single song, putting all dancers face to face with anyone who decides to join in. The more experienced members show an impressive level of patience with any newcomers attempting to keep up with the steps.

7 The connections are international. Sabatants incorporates plenty of Estonian folk dancing but also brings international communities into the mix. Performers from Lithuania, Poland, Norway, Hungary, Udmurtia and Estonia rounded out the lineup of musicians and dance teachers. I chatted with festival attendees from Germany, Australia, South Africa, and America and as close as the surrounding Estonian regions. While different folk dance traditions have their own styles and quirks, there was a lot in common across these cultures to establish a bond between the room.

8 I can’t wait to learn more! The main lesson I took away is how much the welcoming environment made me want to be a part of the folk dancing scene. I now find myself searching event calendar for concerts and joining social media groups to search for local dance nights. Despite warnings from guidebooks and culture shock workshops always preparing outsiders for the “cold and closed off” local personality, I have found the folk dancing community (and a majority of Estonian people in general) to actually be the exact opposite.

Last week, the duo Maarja Nuut & RUUM (Hendrik Kaljujärv) released their first joint album Muunduja (‘shifter’ in Estonian) that was presented at two concerts in Estonia – on Thursday, October 4 at Tartu New Theatre and on Friday, October 5 in Tallinn at club HALL. I participated in the Tallinn concert.

Besides Maarja and Hendrik, there were four other performers. The evening started with Klara Lewis, who was the only one who performed at the upper floor of HALL which is called Mesila (‘apiary’ in Estonian). The artist was located in a construction that was designed like a honeycomb – a very suitable place for a name like that. The artists who perform on that stage are like busy melomaniac queen bees, who can make all the small worker bees to dance together towards and around them. The strong atmospheric sounds created by Klara invaded the entire body and made every single body hair to shiver in the same rhythm with the continuous low bass in the background.

The performance of Klara Lewis was followed by an album presentation and the second half of the evening was filled with the sounds of Hüpnosaurus, Ats Luik and Jamaica Suk. The first two were able to attract people to the dancefloor with their ever-increasing, shifting, and transforming rhythmic layers. Unfortunately, I don’t know how Jamaica Suk contributed to the night, but after listening to her musical preferences later at home, I believe that her performance was definitely enjoyable. As the night went on, the crowd went smaller and smaller but this is definitely not a sign of the lack of high-quality music but rather the fact that the main part of the crowd had come primarily to listen to the album presentation, and other performers were just additional value of sorts that you could choose to listen to or not, depending on your schedule and preferences.

I had high expectations toward the main event of the evening – the album presentation. The whole week was like an introduction to the concert, I listened to the radio interviews with the duo from Raadio 2 and also the songs from their newly released and their previous album. From all the information I got during the week, it’s worth bringing out that the new album includes some new instruments, the use of which was the idea of a producer Howie B from the UK, with whom they collaborated in the first half of the creative process. Howie B was therefore an important catalyst who helped to break the old creative patterns. However, the album has been put together by the co-producer Evar Anvelt, who contributed to the process after the material had been settled in the time mud for months. All these various factors are felt while listening to the album, each giving a different colour to the songs.

Returning to the experience I had on last Friday, it’s noteworthy that at first, it seemed like their songs are similarly structured as before – Maarja starts the songs with her voice by creating already-known rhythm layers, which at one point is accompanied by a violin and followed by an electronic background. However, my initial feelings were quickly disproved because soon the completely new ways of creating sounds were added which offered great moments of discovery. In addition to the masterful handling of violin and looper, Maarja also played, for example, keyboards. Also, the soundscape was more electronic than before. When I wrote about Üle Heli Festival in 2016, I stated: “Together they formed a well-functioning duo, where, however, mostly Maarja’s intimate violin layers and simultaneously powerful and gentle singing voice were dominant. But in some of the songs, it was still possible to feel the virtuous charm of Hendrik’s deep bass.” Two years later, it can be said that the duo has achieved a well-functioning synergy, where both parties have something to say – they are complementing, commenting, highlighting each other while telling the same story and it is also perceived by the audience.

And what is this story they are telling? While listening to their music, the thoughts traveled to the historical distances and the experiences of the recent past. In parts, their music includes something very ancient, magical, it makes you feel like you are walking on the edge of a dream. On the other hand, it’s an invitation to be here and now, to move towards full self-realization. The traditional and electronic worlds have been interwoven, creating a link between the forgotten and the current moment. And as it comes out, these are not so different phenomena. Rather, it may be said that soundscapes that seem to be different at first sight, actually blend together perfectly because they are based on the same desire to express internal experiences and feelings.

Now I want to summarize some of the discussions that I had with my fellow audience members during the concert in the HALL. First of all, we were thinking that perhaps another venue would have been better for the presentation. It was difficult to find a good place in the hall where you could catch all the details of the music. An intimate experience characteristic of listening to the music of Maarja Nuut was missed. It was definitely difficult to bring music close to people in the room with such high ceilings and stone walls. For making better conclusions about the venue, it would be interesting to compare the experience with the concert in Tartu. But there was also a different kind of longing – the songs could have been a bit longer. Somehow, these meditative journeys ended too quickly and I would have happily added five minutes to some of the songs.

A special mention goes to Kristjan Suits‘s visuals that supported the soundscapes perfectly without overpowering them. The visuals evoked some images of a forest, the swaying trees, space, magic. There was a continuous slow movement, which had to be truly focused on to notice it. In this way, a parallel could be drawn with the music – for both the visuals and the music, it was necessary to engage with the material and to delve into them in order to truly appreciate the experience.

To sum up, it can be said that the newly-released album is really enjoyable and well thought out and it takes you on a journey. This concert last week was one chance to participate in this journey. But many chances are yet ahead. There will be an album presentation tour in several locations across Europe and, of course, it is possible to buy the album. The additional information can be found on the website http://maarjanuut.com/en. Soon, the record Muunduja will also be on my shelf and my record player reminding me its goodness again and again.

In March 2018 culture.ee actively streamed about Tallinn Music Week, a creative music festival. In September music, art, and international festival experience exchange has reached the Eastern borders of Estonia.

What makes TMW special? Its international harmony between art styles and forms. For example, at TMW you could listen to various bands from all over the world, see works of Estonian designers, taste eco ice-cream LaMuu at pop-up cafés, and talk about urban planning and climate change.

Cherry on the top of this creative cake was the upcoming music festival Station Narva in a frontier town that harbours Russian-speaking Estonians.

Apéritif

Why was this festival so interesting to me, someone who fled the town like fire the moment I graduated high school ten years ago? First of all, TMW was a blast and I had to see if it can be done in Narva as well. Second of all, Narva has changed a lot during a decade of my living abroad and I just had to see if Narva really is next (#narvaisnext is the main hashtag of the campaign for Narva to become a cultural capital of Europe in 2024). “Must go there,” I said to myself and there I was.

Breakfast “à la Narva”

The non-formal learning centre VitaTiim was a great place to reconcile with rapidly changing Narva. A long table with “Narva breakfast” (tea, coffee, sandwiches and pancakes with jam) was a meeting point for the youth workers of the centre, local activists, and the guests of the festival from Narva, Tallinn, Tartu, Pärnu… In my line of work I encountered Russian- and Estonian-speaking politicians and cultural personae to get together for a discussion, but for the first time in my life did I see Estonians and Russians mingling together instead of dividing themselves into language groups and talking just about everything in so-called Narva language (or narva keel in Estonian which is also known as Ida-Viru language, a curious mix of Russian and Estonian spoken by half Ida-Viru county and Tallinn). Go Narva keel!

Perfectly imperfect lunch

My lunch took place in Narva Art Residency where I was awaited by muffins and an “imperfect” presentation of one “imperfect” art/book project. Two Finnish artists and comic-book authors Kaisa Leka and Christoffer Leka talked how they crossed the USA by bicycle and made an “Imperfect” travel journal about it (“Imperfect”, 2017: Absolute Truth Press). You can read about the well-designed book and buy it here if you ever get inspired by the first line of the book manual: “To read this book you will need a knife”. The language of the book presentation has evolved into the international: the artists conversed with the public in English by adding a Russian phrase here and there while the public assisted the interpreter.

A snack

To go off topic, I decided to have a walk around town after the presentation (and get warm in a café, because the unusually hot summer has come to its end). Luckily I met a former classmate who gave me a tour of this new Narva. The town has truly changed a lot: new shops, cafés, restored park, and new (bigger than in Tallinn) Vaba Lava theatre hint that Narva becomes cool.

What’s for dinner?

For dinner, we had BAZAR or discussions about imported festivals and Narva people’s identity. And again, the discussions were held in Narva keel with some English seasoning. Quite symbolic because Narva residents discussed issues on an international level with the guests from all over Estonia, Russia, Germany, Finland, Sweden. We talked about:

• how can a provincial town become cultural capital;
• how to create a common information network for a small but multinational country;
• how Russian-speaking residents identify themselves vis-à-vis the Estonian population;
• how to interest the youth in active cultural life;
• what Narva residents have so special that nobody else has.

Waiting for a dessert

During these discussions I had a revelation. Any issue can be related to the proud multicultural and multilingual identity of the Narva inhabitants. Russian-speaking Estonians live not on the edge of Europe but on the frontier of two worlds and they need to use this cultural, economical, linguistic position to their advantage. Narva language is nowhere near official language but it has its charm of an Eastern-Estonian dialect and maybe it will become a first step towards the nationwide information exchange.

As a person who was wondering for half of my life whether I am Estonian or Russian, I have now learned to accept and operate multiple cultural identities because in this globalised world there are better things to think of. For example, what future awaits Narva and what its ascend will be like?

And an espresso to boost the energy

I truly hope that next year Station Narva will take place again and there will be more Narva residents on bazaars, concerts, art shows (both as visitors and as participants).

For now, let’s get inspired.

I had exciting experiences. I had a chance to observe my surroundings. A multitude of people crammed side-by-side. Sucked-in stomachs, smiling faces, apologies, modesties. I got very close to people. Too close?

An overabundance of feet! Open toes, flip-flops, sneakers. But you could have managed barefoot as well; I had to resist the urge to throw away my shoes. Lots of stylish clothes. An outdoor exhibit of sunglasses. Hats and headscarves. Bare shoulders soaking up the sunlight. Food carts. Tacos, burgers and bagels, waffles, cakes and ice cream. Drink booths. They’re selling nothing but beer here, nothing but Coca-Cola there, nothing but gin cocktails over there. Healthy juice? Also available. At concerts, you could slightly hear the music from neighbouring stages: louder songs occasionally interrupted milder ones. What a shame! As well as the countless plastic cups. At the same time, there were no plastic straws whatsoever – a big bonus! In the first evening, we saw the lunar eclipse. Then, on day two, the arrival of the downpour. Fans of different music found their way indoors or under sturdier trees. We all got wet anyway but we were dry again soon, as it was still hot outside.

The best musical experiences

Jeff Mills. This legendary techno-wizard made me dance my feet to shreds (seriously, I could barely walk the next day), but I loved it! The grimy and fast-paced bass didn’t allow the audience to stay still nor leave, forcing them to give their all on the dance floor. This was Mills’ second time in Estonia, as he also performed at the Into the Valley Festival almost precisely a year ago. Naturally, he had more fans there, as the festival’s focus was electronic dance music. At Sweet Spot Festival, he was performing at the big hall of the Creative Hub, yet didn’t have many listeners. The terrific weather, as well as the other five stages, were probably considerable factors. Nonetheless, those who had shown up made the most of it!

Miljardid. Marten Kuningas is a charming weirdo in the best way possible. He started the show in a blue kimono, which he had to ditch as it got hotter. However, that was certainly a jump-start, and his enticing dance moves soon got the audience to join him. As a collective, the band was excellent! It was a joy to see so much talent and cheekiness combined. Never a disappointment!

Nublu. At first, I was surprised at the number of people who were big enough fans to know the words, but I admittedly enjoyed many songs myself. The themes of the songs were pretty odd, ranging from the after party of a cat wedding to gifting a drone to a spy girl, but that’s exactly what made them so catchy. Nublu’s music always brings along hilarious confusion.

Mew. An angelical singer, seemingly from another world. I wanted to protect him from all evil, to lose myself in his music and voice. I remember when I used to listen to their album No More Stories Are Told Today, I’m Sorry They Washed Away // No More Stories, The World Is Grey, I’m Tired, Let’s Wash Away on endless repeat. Back then, it was a means of comfort to a young, curious soul. It was wonderful to hear a few songs from that album live.

Avoid Dave. Feel-good beats, captivating songs, a powerful and trained voice, visually compelling performers.

José Gonzáles. Very laid-back, but fittingly so, blissful even. The repertoire included The Beatles’ Blackbird, reportedly one of the first songs Gonzáles ever learned.

Rando Arand. I swayed, I chanted, we melted together.

Something for everyone

The festival was utmost diverse: there was something for everyone. Even though I didn’t love the whole line-up, there was still a myriad of appealing artists and I can certainly claim to have enjoyed the experience.

The festival area was organized rather sensibly. There were places to rest, drink and eat during the small breaks between the shows. As expected, these areas were flooded with people, some of whom preferred to sit down and have a chat with friends, rather than rush to the front of the stage. Very fitting for the atmosphere.

Some artist/stage arrangements were questionable. For example, the decision to put NOËP and Jarek Kasar to the smallest Pada stage. Nevertheless, it should be considered there were six stages in a relatively small area so it couldn’t have been easy to put the programme together.

Creative Hub and Contemporary Art Museum of Estonia did an impressive job rebounding the music from the concerts, which might have thrilled or annoyed the city folk living nearby. These small disadvantages (or in some cases, advantages) are natural but should be accounted for when organizing a city festival. Which brings into question whether the place is suitable for such an event, although the next year’s festival has already been confirmed, still at the Creative Hub’s Park. Thus, good luck! Sweet Spot Festival was a commendable achievement for its first run!

The red carpet look-a-like path in front of the entrance of the Film Museum leads the visitor to the museum, which works like a workshop. It is obviously an impossible task to capture the art of filmmaking at its entire depth with one museum visit, but it definitely offers some exciting discoveries.
I let the permanent exhibition „Take One” to lead me to a step-by-step journey through the birth of film and I’m happy that I’m allowed to be a direct participant in so many things. I can look at how the animations are made, change the soundtracks of Estonian films, for example, by placing „Nipernaadi’s” famous „Rändaja õhtulaul” (Traveler’s Evening Song) to the animated film „Naksitrallid” (which, by the way, works pretty well. At the same time, it is a refreshing reminder that Sven Grünberg’s music in „Naksitrallid” is a surprisingly naturally flowing prog rock, which in turn works well as the background sound of all the other movie pieces offered). Pretty exciting is the opportunity offered at the green studio, which allows you to place yourself into an animation or a historical photo and the resulting view appears on the screen quite authentically. It is rather funny to see how, for example, on the photo taken at the Yalta Conference in 1945, the fourth „great statesman”, a visitor to a museum from Tallinn in 2017, will appear.
In general, the museum is rather informative in shedding light on the technical aspects of film production. While at the beginning of the exhibition I feel a bit confused in the middle of all the detailed information; then, after some time the texts presented by an actor Sergo Vares work more and more convincingly,  and at one point the terms like „focal length”, „overexposure”, „light temperature”, „close-up”, „medium close-up”, „zoom in” sound already so enchanting that I would like to nod and ask for the camera – stop talking and let’s shoot a movie! True, difficulties may arise when one takes too seriously the glamorous world of film distribution and marketing presented at the final part of the exhibition; falling from the level of blockbusters and theatrically distributed movies to the reality of the auteur films may be too painful for the overly excited filmmaking enthusiast. The gap between the auteur and blockbuster films is manifested perhaps the most clearly in the distribution and marketing of films, and while this information is gathered to a single museum, the overall picture is inevitably incomplete from one aspect or another, in which, of course, the museum’s curators and organizers cannot be blamed.
One of the wittiest exhibits at the museum is an exhibition created by Andres Maimik. If you answer the ringing phone you can get a clue of the external pressures of the Estonian filmmakers in the 50’s, 80’s and during the turn of the century. How have the nature of ideological pressure, and the content, intensity and rhetoric of that nature been changed over time: while at the Stalinist country, the censorship worked as a vituperation, then three decades later it became much more mild in its form, the wording was more refined, more tricky, but also slightly comic, and how „the winds of freedom” have put the screenwriter up against the different but essentially similar pressure of capitalism and financial world.
All this makes one think: the concept of the film museum as a whole is to present one story of the perfect filmmaking – how the screenwriter has a good idea, how it is written into a decent scenario, the director is, of course, practical and professional, the actors are well-chosen, the shooting goes well because the arrangements are well done, countless assistants and advisers have done everything, the lighting specialist is on a high level, the editor and the director are thinking alike, etc.
But in life, as in movie making, man plans and god laughs. The filmmakers have given the public a glimpse of how, in the course of making one full-length feature film, it happens that they are not able to get the requisites in due time or that they must fight like lions for the financing and still lose it, the sudden change of the weather ruins the shooting day, and a good scenario must be truncated because of the lack of money or other unimaginative reason. And one, but not a small one, of all these obstacles is the socio-political and ideological situation in the society surrounding the field of filmmaking. A filmmaker cannot ignore it; it is over and around them like the mist and darkness of November, and everyone must find their own way out of it as successfully as the spirit and purposeful wisdom allows.
At the exhibition, it can be noticed that film is dealing with both beautiful and ugly. At the same time, all the ugly things in a good movie change into something beautiful through some miracle. Even if something makes you cry or cringe, it’s poetic. The transformed, somewhat „pure forms” of sadness and anger born from the real sadness and the real anger always work in the film as a distillation of life and the world and therefore becomes a kind of alibi.
I am talking about one of the exhibits, the drug crook’s Olari’s dental prosthesis from the movie „I Was Here”. The yellowish-brown false teeth are just hideous as a single object, but thinking about Tambet Tuisk’s absolutely unpleasant character in the film, the prosthesis become twice as much abhorrent, but their film context frees the prosthesis and also the Tuisk’s character from the responsibility in front of the real life, because these nasty objects are not „real”, it was just a movie and this statement will bring the man and his dental problems out from the chain of condemnation that would come up automatically. And if I also think about the cassette containing smooth Caucasian music and eye-protecting goggles, which Lembit Ulfsak’s truly pleasant character wore in „Tangerins”, I’ll understand even more clearly that the film is something much more than just storytelling with moving pictures.

Selecting the concerts at this year’s Tallinn Music Week, their alternativeness and innovativeness were the weightiest factors for me. Two concert programmes, which matched this requirement perfectly, were Üle Heli x Nonclassical x Japan Sound Portrait Night and Klassikaraadio’s (Classical Radio) contemporary music night. Of course, this does not mean that the other spectacles were somehow less appetising, but in comparison to the concerts that took place in the Blackheads several of them seemed artists-wise more easily available.

The event series of Üle Heli have embedded themselves on the local music scene with their artists who make more untraditional music and more exploratory concert programmes. It must be said that in addition to local Üle Heli music festival, London-based label Nonclassical and BBC’s radio journalist Nick Luscombe were responsible for the concert evening at the House of the Blackheads.

The evening’s opening concert of the collective bearing the name of a socially critical undertone, There Are No More Four Seasons, charmed with its experimentalism, which was composed of electronic music and movements played on classical violin. Having listened to them before the concert, I understood that this kind of music necessitates a very specific emotion and I had not had that feeling at home. But St. Olaf’s Guild Hall of the House of the Blackheads was ideal for it, as in its atmosphere it was possible for my soul to resonate with these sonic vibrations. Hauschka, which performed the next, definitely set the expectations for this evening very high. For those who do not know, let me explain that the natural cosmetics brand Dr. Hauschka and this music genius have no connection whatsoever. At least as far as I am aware. Hauschka, who made music behind the piano in the cosy St. Olaf’s Guild Hall, governed the sounds directed towards our ears with delicate tenderness and confidence. Hauscka had no difficulties experimenting with the prepared piano and electronic music. He performed a track written for four pianos with one existing Estonia piano superbly. He also made the sounds created by things thrown to the ground masterfully work for him. It seemed there is not a single sound, which would not sound well, composed under Hauschka’s hand. Thinking back to the concert, I am still overwhelmed by some special feelings, which is why I have tried to avoid listening to Hauschka at home. Just to make sure that the experience of the concert would stay in my mind authentically as long as possible.

There were other surprisers at the Friday’s Blackheads’ showcase, who surpassed all expectations. Out of local performers, one of them was doubtlessly Argo Vals, the changes in whose sound language could certainly be detected by even the less experienced ears. It seems that Vals has started to enrich the sound waves of his electric guitar with more pop-sounding electronic beats. Similarly surprising was Mart Avi. Although I have a heard a lot of good about his performances, he still managed to shock me with his comprehensive production and performance. I do not know whether this comparison sounds like a cliché regarding Avi, but I could not prevent drawing parallels between him and Ian Curtis. There is definitely something Ian-Curtis-like in him. I was also surprised by the Estonian collective Eeter, whose creation I jokingly define as the electronic music of the earth religion followers to myself. The highlight of this showcase for me was definitely the British band Flamingods, who managed to make even the neater and duller Estonians dance by including instruments from different cultures. Their crazy psychedelic indie-music was what woke everyone up after listening to more chamber-like Japanese music. The five-member band, each of whom seemed a bit strange, heated up the air of the House of the Blackheads and filled my soul with a positive charge of energy.

If the mood of the audience at the Friday’s showcase in the House of the Blackheads was rather sublime, a chamber-like, but also festive atmosphere prevailed during Klassikaraadio’s contemporary evening. There was a lot to celebrate, specifically, it was the birthday of Klassikaraadio. On this important day, the evening was kicked off by ekke, who experiments with the modular synthesiser, and ensemble U. This visual side of this performance was taken care of by Tencu. An exhilarating audiovisual concert was given by the Dutch collective In Code, who in collaboration with the network C3⊂IC aimed at touching the boundaries between the classical and contemporary electronic music at their concert. I am glad that In Code’s performance was ended by a concert in which local artists ekke and ensemble U were also involved.

The following programme of the evening was exciting in a number of ways. For example, new works by several composers premiered this evening. Among them were Ardo Ran Varres’s work „Die Luftballonmusik” for violin and young composer Lauri Jõeleht’s work “Öö saabumine” (“Arrival of the Night”) performed by the duo Duo Telluur, which consists of the classical guitar and the English horn. The Finnish collective Korvat Auki with their improvisational repertoire raised questions about improvising for me. I started to think, how it is born. Is there some sort of a backbone in place or is it all free improvisation? In any case, Korvat Auki proved for me how successfully one can be ingenious and experimental with the help of the sounds made with all sorts of random objects (like crackling paper). The performance of the girls’ choir Ellerhein charmed with its scenic elements and I really liked their slightly jazz-like version of Robert Jürjendal’s work „Veel”. I was glad to hear the ovations Ellerhein’s concert sparked in the foreign delegates and their wonder at how such concerts attract enough audience considering our small nation.

In conclusion, Klassikaraadio’s contemporary music evening illustrated the new trends in modern music very well. The glance is definitely cast in the direction of electronic music, the more experimental and explorative side of which is also valued in the making of contemporary music and instrument-playing. For example, the double bass player Kristin Kuldkepp, who also performed at the concert, has aimed to study how the specific movements of playing an instrument influence the sound with the help of motion sensors. This no longer sounds like technological utopia. Nor the fact that the artificial intelligence can soon take song-writing over from humans. I would like to hope though that this will not happen very soon, as these two showcases of Tallinn Music Week proved how many talented people there are both here and elsewhere in the world.

The Club Night of the Estonian Music Days in Von Krahli Baar consisted of several very different events, giving the visitors the opportunity to discover a lot of new music and understand better how music and composing works: First up, the composing project „Ludus Tonalis“ had a performance, later on, the DJs of Tallinn’s famous Mutant Disco played their dance music downstairs, being accompanied at the DJ-desk by some of the Estonian composers involved in the festival, while upstairs experimental electronic music was presented, partly specially composed for this evening.
The concert series „Ludus Tonalis“ (tonal game) is a project founded by young Estonian composers who organise monthly concerts with new music that is created following certain „game rules“ for the composing process. The 8th concert of the series took place in collaboration with the Estonian Music Days and presented a piece written the previous Monday in an act of „chain-writing“; five composers, everyone given exactly one hour of time, wrote the piece „Kesk linna rahu“ (City center peace) one-by-one in Hotel Palace in Tallinn. Some of the composers (Rasmus Puur, Timo Steiner, Rein Rannap, Marianna Liik, Kirke Karja, Ülo Krigul) are very young and some are already established on Estonia’s music scene, which also adds an exciting element to the project.
Downstairs in Von Krahl, this work is performed by a 4-piece-ensemble: violin, bassoon, clarinet and viola. The atmosphere is friendly and light-hearted; many of the visitors are friends of the participating composers or musicians. Everyone in the audience receives a sheet of paper, on which they can guess which one of the composers wrote which part or express their thoughts and feelings about the music. This is a game („Ludus“) not only for composers, but also for the people in the audience, who enthusiastically start writing down their thoughts, excited about whether they will be right or wrong.
The music sheets are not printed on paper: as befitting the concert’s motto „Magus Muusika“ (sweet music), the piece is played from decorated marzipan cakes, in order to symbolise the ephemeral nature of music – if not recorded but just played, it is gone in a moment and can never be repeated in exactly the same way, just as a cake, which is gone forever if eaten.
The „sweet music“ itself sounds like a patchwork, sewed together by different craftsmen. There are always new motives, styles and rhythms turning up, none of them is repeated. Later the composers will admit that everyone of them rather created a new beginning instead of working with the previous composers‘ material. But still: It is not five different pieces of music, it is one. It has suspense, a climax, a structure. It is impressive to see what can be created in so short time and under pressure, even more, considering there were technical problems with the computer during the „chain-writing“-process, stealing big amounts of time from some of the composers.
After a relaxed and interesting talk with the composers about writing, problems and inspiration during this project , „Kesk linna rahu“ is performed again and everyone gets a piece of cake. The Tonal Game is over, and everyone had fun – see you next time!
Now, downstairs, the Mutant Disco starts. Throughout the evening, you will see its well-known DJs Raul Saaremets, Siim Nestor and Rhythm Doctor being helped out at their job by Helena Tulve and Timo Steiner, the organisers of Estonian Music Days, who are also composers, whose music was performed at the festival. Von Krahl is not packed, but the small crowd is in a good mood. You can spot a lot of familiar faces if you went to some concerts of the Estonian Music Days. It’s the festival’s official afterparty. Musicians, conductors, organisers (but also everyone else, of course) are enjoying themselves after playing their part in the schedule.
An „acoustic exhibition“ can also be visited at this party full of abundant creativeness. With a computer and headphones, it is possible to listen to the piece „One Day on the Spring“ by Alexandr Zhedeljev and to how it sounds in Tallinn’s different concert spots: the Estonia Concert Hall, the Niguliste Church, Kanuti Gildi Saal and Kloostri Ait. By experiencing the big differences in sounds, echo and the effect on the listener, the importance of acoustic becomes obvious. Music is never fully independent from its outer conditions and the same piece of music can be listened or performed in many different ways.
In the meantime, the Night Concerts are upstairs. Sander Mölder, a young composer, producer and DJ has put together a program with five young students of all kinds of music, who composed pieces of experimental electronic music especially for this night. The room’s dark walls are full of psychedelic projections, creating a mysterious atmosphere.
Siimeon Liik, a student of electroacoustics, presents in her performance „Värvide maailm“ („World of Colours“) the connection of a traditional instrument (her contrabass) with electronic sounds. He shows a lot of different ways to make sounds with a double bass, while experimental sounds grumble in the dark. It is uncanny, fascinating and impressive. The double bass and the sounds work together, fight each other, complement each other.
The other pieces completely lack any live played instruments. Nobody is performing actually, the audience sits in the room, left alone in the dark, and just listens. It feels like a journey into unknown territory. Kaisa Johvik’s „Kollaaž“ (Collage) is made out of known music by Estonian composers, which is cut, put together again and mixed with gloomy bass. Marianna Liik’s „Postluudium“ sounds like Trance music without the beat, or maybe even like music from another world. All this is music that demands the listener’s entire attention, leading him to new places.
The afterparty of the Estonian Music Days 2015 was a rich and colourful experience full of inventive thoughts and new ways of experiencing music. The events that took place are hard to connect with one certain idea – but diversity and abundance are important in music and art in general. A lot of the artists who were involved in this event are still very young; this shows that the small country of Estonia has a huge creative potential and a bright future in music.

The final concert of the Estonian Music Days 2015 was a performance of the internationally acclaimed mixed choir Vox Clamantis (Voice of someone who is screaming), conducted by Jaan-Eik Tulve. It took place in the medieval atmosphere of the Niguliste church. The impressive gothic architecture and the acoustic precondition of the church contributed to the concert’s stunning effect on the audience, while cameras and spotlights added an official tone. The songs performed at this concert were written by Estonian composers in recent years, some especially for Vox Clamantis. They follow traditions of old church singing like Gregorian chant, but are influenced by modern music. The audience, diverse in age, listens intently and in concentration throughout the whole concert. When the choir does not sing, there are no sounds.
During the first song („Bless the Lord, o my Soul“ by Galina Gregorjeva), the choir is standing behind the people, in the back of the church, so that the first impression is only music, not the singers‘ appearance. The song is starting like a dialogue between the choir’s male and female voices, and ending with a brilliant wide range of accords, harmonies and voices.
The performed pieces switch between melodic, harmonic and more dark, dissonant ones. The second song, „Stella Matutina“ by Helena Tulve (who is playing the piano to her own composition in this concert) is a slow, monophonic piece only for female voices. The lyrics come from Catholic liturgy, while the piano, using unusual sounds and intervals, create suspenseful disharmonies reminding the listeners of modern jazz. The melodic „Summer Rain“, written especially for Vox Clamantis by Toivo Tulev shows again the singers‘ extensive spectrum of tones and their ability to create beautiful harmonies.
During „Kuula“ (Listen) by Tõnu Kõrvits, the singers use the acoustic advantages of the church, whispering, playing with volume, dissonance and glissando, spreading throughout the hall to enable the audience to „listen“ as if in stereo. The singers‘ clear voices stay between the high church walls as a ghostly echo for some seconds after the music has ended, making the church not only the location of the concert, but also an acoustic device. Alo Pöldmäe’s „Ave Maria“ is going back in the traditional direction, being a church choir piece. Along with this, an originally Gregorian „Ave Maria“ is performed, showing the roots of the music performed in the concert.
The closing song, another work of Helena Tulve, „I am a River“, consists mostly of disharmonic, long notes, creating wide landscapes of sound, leaving traditional choir singing completely behind. Sharp, dissonant chords break out of the average volume range and shock the listener. After this impressive finale, the audience provides the singers and its conductor with a warm applause, thankful for a wide-ranging musical journey.
The choir’s repertoire was diverse and refreshing, connecting ancient church traditions with today’s art music in order to create something new and exciting. The blurring  and joining of genres was an important theme of this year’s Estonian Music Days, superbly shown in its last concert.