Tallinn Music Week

If stone could speak then the medieval ruins of Tallinn in Estonia would be screaming with the despair of centuries of war. Estonia is a small North Eastern European nation perched like a Baltic raven on the edge of Europe. It is a nation with a precarious identity, having been occupied by virtually every surrounding country and only gaining independence from the Soviet Union less than 20 years ago. Besides the culture vultures who flock around the medieval architecture and the lecherous English stag parties who frequent Tallinn for cheap booze and whores, few people visit this ancient corner of Europe. Tallinn Music Week is an important event, not just for the bands and artists involved, but also to show the world that there is more to Estonia than old churches and sleazy strip clubs.
 
The historic culture of Estonia had been somewhat suppressed under Soviet rule. Since independence, Estonia has attempted to re-establish its identity as a Nordic nation. In the 19th century the Estonian nationalist movement adopted the ancient pagan deity Tharaphita as a symbol of their anti-German identities. It is from this forgotten deity that the black metal band, Tharaphita, take their name.
 
The band formed shortly after the fall of the Soviet Union, so it seems fitting that they adopted this symbol of their national identities. “It started in 1993 when the black metal movement was a hot topic.” Explains vocalist, Ank, whose intimidating Viking features are made more terrifying by his spiked leather arm bands. “We wanted to do something similar, but to our own taste.” These leather clad heathens keep their folk heritage alive through their lyrics. “We have a song called Merekurat, the sea devil.” Mutters guitarist, Kaido, from behind a mess of long black hair, “There is a saying in Estonia, ‘the sea gives and the sea takes.’ The song of the sea devil is not about a man with horns beneath the waves, it is respect for the power of nature.”
 
And it’s not just metal bands who draw inspiration from their Viking past. One of the most popular bands at Tallinn Music Week, and in the country in general, is Svjata Vatra, a folk band in the vein of Gogol Bordello. They not only adopt the symbolism of folk culture but also use traditional folk instruments like Estonian bagpipes. Bagpipe player, Juhan Suits, made his own pipes from wood, although, he admits, they would traditionally have been made from walrus tusks.
 
Like Ank from Tharaphita, singer Ruslan Trochynskyi is lyrically inspired by traditional themes. “I sing about family, about love.” He explains, “I know many traditional songs and from my memories, I add my own experience.” They have taken their affinity for folk culture to the extreme and actually had a replica Viking long boat built, upon which they are touring port towns in the Baltic this summer.

These two Goliaths of Estonian music have loyal followers who came out in force for their respective performances. But Tallinn Music Week isn't just for established local favourites, it's also a showcase for emerging talent in the region. The varied offerings ranged from the industrial noise assault of Badass Yuki to the bewildering synth jazz freakout of Opium Flirt, complete with clarinet spazz attack and a bizarre front man throwing David Brent shapes and swinging his Mortica Adams haircut about like he was in Slayer.

Tallinn seems an unusual place for a music festival, and it is, but that adds to the appeal of the weekend. Trudging through ancient snow covered streets to get from one venue to another is just as fun as marching across a muddy English field in Reading or Leeds. Then there are the added benefits of beautiful architecture, gorgeous women and an abundance of cheap Russian vodka. The more adventurous can sample the local delicacy of bear flesh: how many coked up English teens can make such a boast when they return from Glastonbury?