A few weeks ago, I delved back into the Estonian metal scene and released a commented biography of the local band TAAK as part of Rumzine. Their uniquely styled doom/stoner/rock caught my attention through their debut album “Koerapööriöö”, which was released almost twenty years ago. A lot has happened during that long time, and you can read all the essential details in the mentioned special text.
However, the big news is the launch of their brand new album titled “Surmalaev” (“Ship of Death”), which means a lot to this experienced group of musicians. The new songs feature a new vocalist, OTT P, for the first time, who is a very worthy successor to the iconic Mart Kalvet. The newcomer in TAAK’s lineup is also present in the following interview, where he contributed his share. The main spotlight is, however, on the long-time (not just) keyboardist Kristjan Virma, with whom I eagerly discussed, I hope, everything important.
Kristjan, I’m really glad that TAAK are back again. Before we get to the new album, I’d like to take a moment to talk about the previous one. “Põgenemiskatse” still fascinates me to this day — the atmosphere of that album is truly unique. How do you remember the period when it was created? Would you say it’s your more depressive album?
Kristjan: When writing and arranging music, we aim to create atmosphere primarily through melody rather than through sound itself—and if the material demands it, we shape the sound accordingly. Being depressive has never been a goal in itself for us. However, if the themes of our lyrics and the musical language we use evoke that feeling, then so be it—life isn’t always flowers, butterflies, and rainbows.
With the more recent albums, it tends to be that at some point—when a bunch of songs are already there, some of the lyrics are in place, and a set of what could be called “core songs” has taken shape—a certain overall atmosphere begins to crystallize: a sense of what kind of mood this collection of songs as a whole will convey. A sort of concept then emerges, around which everything else revolves.
In the case of “Põgenemiskatse” (“Escape Attempt”), the goal was rather to create a cold, calculated, machine-like atmosphere, since one of the core songs was inspired by the Strugatsky brothers’ novella of the same name (Arkady and Boris Strugatsky, “Попы́тка к бе́гству,” 1962): a bleak, brutal world where the individual and human essence are subordinated to the mechanical service of some “greater purpose.”
Driven by the desire to convey something lifeless, bleak, and emotionally sterile, we made deliberate choices in shaping the album’s sonic language: a thinner sound, fewer instrumental layers, a drier and more mechanical overall result, and specific timbral decisions. If the outcome—or side effect—of that is a sense of depression, then so be it. The world we set out to depict is depressive by nature, and if that comes across, it only shows that we succeeded in conveying emotion through music—so we can say the goal has been achieved.
I assume that after the release of “Põgenemiskatse”, the COVID period followed. How do you remember that time, and how did it affect the band itself? Were you able to meet each other in person? Were the restrictions in Estonia strict?
Kristjan: “Põgenemiskatse” was completed at a moment when the entire world was confused and in shock, as strict COVID restrictions were being put in place. In Estonia, that happened in March 2020. When the boxes of records and merch arrived, there was absolutely nothing we could do with them—concerts and public gatherings were banned, record stores were closed, and no one knew how long the whole mess would last. At first, it was a pretty disheartening situation—we had just built up momentum to present the new album and move things forward, but suddenly all that energy hit what felt like a solid concrete wall.
As time went on, we decided to start selling the album directly, old-school underground style—by mail and hand to hand. Even though the initial outlook wasn’t very promising, it turned out to work surprisingly well. People still had a craving for the “fine arts,” after all. Toward summer, restrictions eased, and we got the chance to play live again—until the next wave hit. And that’s how it went for a while. The situation was quite schizophrenic: even if a promoter decided to organize a concert, there was never any guarantee it would actually happen until the very last moment. Restrictions were imposed left and right with almost no warning.
During the COVID period in 2020, Mart also decided to step back from the band’s active lineup. I wouldn’t directly link his decision to the pandemic and its effects, but it’s not impossible that such an experience made him reflect on what is truly important to him and what he wants from life. The following period was, to put it mildly, not particularly productive—there didn’t seem to be much perspective, and by early 2022 the band had essentially gone on hold. That situation lasted more or less until 2023.
A large part of the world during the “COVID era” was forced to cut off genuine human contact and interact with others through machines—Teams meetings, emails, phone calls, and so on. People were subjected to these unnatural rules and pushed into very small personal worlds, having to “get along with themselves.” There was plenty of frustration and confusion. Looking back, the themes of “Põgenemiskatse” ended up resonating very well with the “world order” of that era.
One of TAAK’s unmistakable trademarks was undoubtedly Mart Kalvet’s vocals. I have to admit, I really enjoyed them as well. Was Mart’s departure a shock for you? I assume that finding a singer of similar quality wasn’t easy at all…
Kristjan: Yes, I suppose you could say that Marti’s decision to step back from the band came as a bit of a shock. On one hand, everything seemed to be going smoothly, and over the years we had really settled into a comfortable rhythm together, but I understand that there comes a moment when someone can get tired of a certain activity, when it no longer brings joy, and they want something different from life.
At the beginning we didn’t start the search for a new singer very intensively. We called a few names that came to mind at first, but nothing really progressed. At the same time, we assumed it would be difficult for a new singer to integrate based solely on the old songs, so we began preparing material that a new singer could immediately arrange and shape in their own way. However, since this period coincided with the forced inactivity of the COVID era, there wasn’t much enthusiasm, and for a while the whole process stalled.
At one point, we realized that this approach wasn’t going to take us anywhere, and conveniently around the same time we heard that Ott Pabbo was returning to musical activity and looking for a band—and that’s how it happened.
Mart Kalvet’s successor became Ott Pabbo from the band JADIRA. It’s incredible how well his voice also fits TAAK. Did you know each other beforehand?
Kristjan: Before JADIRA, Ott sang in a band called SMÕUK (stoner rock with Estonian lyrics), which, in my opinion, made even better use of his singing style.
The Estonian metal scene is small, and everyone knows everyone (more or less), but it wouldn’t be accurate to say that we—TAAK at that time—knew Ott personally. Yes, we had shared the stage more than once and spent time backstage together, but generally, that was the extent of our interaction. Nevertheless, his abilities, vocal qualities, and singing style were well known to us.
When I heard that Ott was once again looking for opportunities to express himself musically, I invited him to step in and be the singer of our band, fully aware of what that would entail.
Estonian is an inseparable part of TAAK — together with your music, it sounds absolutely magical and mysterious. At least that’s how I perceive it as a Czech listener.😉 Do you often hear this from foreign listeners?
Kristjan: Yes, there’s really nothing surprising about that.😉 As is well known, J.R.R. Tolkien created his Elvish languages inspired by Finnish, using its grammar, word structures, rhythm, and abundance of vowels. Estonian is quite similar to Finnish, so the magical and mystical feel is understandable.
Personally, I haven’t received such specific feedback from international listeners, but occasionally people do mention that it’s great we don’t sing in English, as it adds character and gives our music a distinctly exotic touch.
Your fans have now, after five years, finally received a new album titled “Surmalaev”. In your opinion, what makes this record special? Do you see it as a kind of “second beginning” for TAAK?
Kristjan: Yes, you could probably consider this our second (or third) coming. A significant part of the lineup on this album is different from the previous one—the singer and lead guitarist have changed, as well as the lyricist. Vocals and lyrics have always been a very important part of Taak’s image, so at the time, when Mart left the band, many people said that it would be extremely difficult for us to find suitable replacements in these areas. And they were right.
With this album, however, we hope we managed to pull it off. Perhaps not so much for listeners and fans, but for us, that is what makes this album special. Musically, we tried not to rock the boat too much, and stylistically, “Surmalaev” probably isn’t that different from “Põgenemiskatse”.
Did you have some kind of primary vision of how to move your music forward? What new attributes does “Surmalaev” contain in your opinion?
Kristjan: Creatively, we didn’t want to stray too far from the previous album—there had already been so many forced changes that experimenting too much with the style felt a bit risky. At the same time, some evolution and change were inevitable, as we don’t try to cling to style definitions set years ago. One conscious change we did make was in the writing of lyrics: we tried to introduce a simpler approach to the themes, making the texts more accessible and, if you will, more suited to metal music, allowing the freedom to write some songs with fairly straightforward concepts. We hope that wasn’t a misstep.
As for recording and the overall sound… During the initial studio session, we made it clear that we wanted—befitting the album’s title—to create a raw, deathly atmosphere that literally smelled of earth and dirt. The result was intended to sound not too polished or refined, but alive, honest, and natural in its own way.
When I read the lyrics to the title track, I immediately thought of a possible connection to the Estonia ferry disaster. The track is incredibly chilling… Does the song have any connection to that tragedy?
Kristjan: Wow… I would never have expected that association to come up. So no, when creating this song, I never once thought about the Estonia ferry disaster. The atmosphere and emotion of this song were inspired, in my thoughts, by the book Das Totenschiff (The Death Ship) by the German-born writer Bruno Traven. Not keeping in mind its anarchist-socialist aspect, but rather its Kafkaesque sense of abandonment, the isolation of the individual, the recognition of the inevitable, and the acceptance of that inevitability. The song is about the choices we are often forced to make or those we cannot refuse, which then haunt us throughout life until one moment you may notice that there are no more choices left.
“But the priest cannot sleep on an empty stomach… So he creeps along the cemetery at night, disturbs the graves and devours the dead.” Is this another unique story taken from Nordic/Scandinavian lore, or is it a completely fictional story? The track “LE RESTAURANT DE LA POUSSIÈRE” is definitely one of the highlights of the album…
Kristjan: This song started as a creative game—to write a song that felt like an unwritten death-doom era track by DAWN OF GEHENNA. I put various 90s doom metal clichés into it, quite shamelessly and without any pangs of conscience. Therefore, any similarities that the listener might think they recognize are deliberate and completely intentional and are meant as an homage to the bands that shaped the genre.
For the working title of the song, I used the title of a photo exhibition by the Estonian artist Peeter Laurits: Mullatoidurestoran (rough translation: Soil Food Restaurant). You know, a file has to have a name, after all, and it has a nice wordplay in the Estonian language, but still, it was just a file name for me. The exhibition’s artwork depicted human corpses in various natural environments and contexts. The band decided to, so to speak, ‘pick up’ this song, and Ott Pabbo, despite my repeated emphasis that it was just a working title, took up that theme and still gave the song the same title.
OTT P: There are of course many mythololical ghastly beings and ghouls that dig out corpses in order to feed on them. We can also find instances where people resort to cannibalism during times of famine and strife, with fresh mounds being easy access to a food source. In this case, the lyrics however are completely inspired by the title and melody of the song – just an artist’s imagination left to soar. The fact that the perpetrator in the story is a holy man is coincidental, a contrast to give shock value to the context.
I assume your lyrics aren’t for everyone — in fact, I actually think that TAAK’s music itself is probably much more accessible. Are the media in Estonia tolerant enough and do they give you space?
OTT P: I don’t think the media will have much to gnaw on here; after all, artistic interpretation is just another form of free speech. If there is anyone who will take offense on a personal level, then it is unfortunately unavoidable, as you cannot go through life by tiptoeing around other people’s triggers.
Generally, it seems to be the case in Estonia that a song or artist is not specifically ‘harassed’ because of the words or themes in the lyrics. At least, we haven’t noticed such a thing. Of course, there are always sensitive topics like ‘inciting ethnic hatred’ and other themes classified as ‘hate speech,’ but we have not observed any kind of dismissive attitude toward our own work on those grounds.
Speaking generally, it seems that the media in Estonia is quite liberal, and you can sometimes hear songs with explicit profanity even during prime time on our radio. Similarly, there are no strict taboo subjects. However, on the flip side, for instance, we haven’t noticed any songs directly glorifying bestiality in the Estonian media space, no matter how poetically it might be expressed. This might be due to a lack of such songs, perhaps censorship, or perhaps the lack of entertainment value these songs hold in the eyes of the radio or media outlets.
But more broadly—the presence of alternative music on media channels that ride the wave of the general mainstream media is probably the same as everywhere else in the world, and you won’t very often find such bands and songs in the A-category of their playlists.
Stoner-doom metal, hard rock, gothic rock… These are all genres that flow through the music of the band TAAK. Were you already close to these genres during the time of your previous band DAWN OF GEHENNA?
Kristjan: Well, DAWN OF GEHENNA was a band that, in a way, lived through two distinct eras. The first era belonged to the death-doom period of the 1990s. Stoner rock and gothic rock, in their current sense, weren’t really a thing yet. Listening to that material now, I wouldn’t dare to claim there were any clear hard rock or other such influences in it. It was pretty straightforward death-doom. Toward the end of the nineties, the activity slowed down.
But… around 2003, DAWN OF GEHENNA started waking up again. That’s when I joined the band. We did our first live shows, playing songs from the band’s early period. Once the initial excitement passed and it was time to write new songs, a significant stylistic change took place – although some of the songs still came from the end of the previous era as I have understood. When the first demo of the new era (“The Night Dog Session”, in 2005) was finished, it was a completely different DAWN OF GEHENNA than before.
And, as a cherry on top, it was in Estonian – which, at the time, was quite a tough cookie to chew on. In any case, that demo laid the foundation for the kind of music and style that TAAK would consciously pursue in its early years: stoner rock, proto-doom, hard rock. And all of it in Estonian, with a retro vibe. That’s when it became clear that continuing under the name DAWN OF GEHENNA was no longer possible – it had simply become too different. So TAAK was born, carrying over the heritage of stoner, proto-doom, hard rock, and even heavy metal. A broader blending of metal subgenres and influences like gothic rock and post-rock came later on.
By the way, for a while, TAAK and DAWN OF GEHENNA were actually active in parallel. The music was the same, but the lyrics were either in Estonian or in English, respectively. And if I remember correctly, around 2007, an EP or demo was released featuring English versions of some songs from TAAK’s first album.
How do you incorporate keyboard parts into the music? Are they added to finished songs, or are they part of the creation process from the very beginning? The keyboards in the new tracks are amazing again. An incredible retro sound in a new package…
Kristjan: Thank you for the kind words. When writing songs for the latest TAAK albums, I’ve followed the principle that the guitars themselves should be the ones to really get the song going, so to speak. The keyboard parts, in some cases, were only added later in the studio, after the tracks had already been recorded and roughly mixed. In such songs, the purpose of the keyboards is to provide some additional frequency depth or to create an extra, more ethereal melodic layer.
But there are also a few songs where the keyboard melody was an essential part of the composition right from the start. So, it really depends — sometimes it’s one way, sometimes the other.
Since I mentioned DAWN OF GEHENNA… Have you ever considered re-releasing all the material of this band? A complete collection like that wouldn’t be bad. I only have these things in mp3… 🙂
Kristjan: As for re-releasing DAWN OF GEHENNA’s material — if you mean The Old and the songs from that era — that’s not for today’s TAAK to decide. TAAK is by now a completely different band. Some years ago, someone brought up the idea of re-recording those old songs, but I didn’t think it was a good idea either. And, as I mentioned earlier, DAWN OF GEHENNA also had two entirely different creative periods — so putting all those musically very different songs together on the same record would feel quite strange to me personally.
TAAK ranks among the more experienced bands. What is your current position on the domestic scene? What kind of feedback have you received since your return?
Kristjan: It’s actually quite difficult for us to define our own position within the scene objectively. At this point, I might loosely quote an article published years ago that analyzed our band as a phenomenon within the Estonian cultural space:
“It seems that, despite their quality, which no one would likely dispute, TAAK has generally provoked more alienation than enthusiasm in the local scene. They are known, certainly listened to, and respected, yet at the same time almost feared, not fully embraced.”
I leave this quotation as it is. Not adding any context.
You ask about returning to the scene. Well, we’ve, so to speak, been back for a couple of years, during which Ott, as the new vocalist, has firmly established himself in his role. The new album, which we’ve been working on and into which we’ve poured nearly a year’s worth of energy, has only been publicly available for a short time. But the initial feedback has been positive, and the weight of this “return” will largely fall on the shoulders of our new guitarist, Raiko Parts. I guess both fans and critics will be keeping a close eye on his act.
Do you operate as a band according to the old model? Rehearsal room, pub, concerts…? Do you also meet together outside of musical activities?
Kristjan: Yeah, we still operate according to the old-school model — we work out the interplay and arrangements of the songs together in the rehearsal room. Everyone can, of course, learn and practice the songs on their own at home using the recordings or demos, but the final truth always comes out when we play together in rehearsal.
Outside of the band room or live shows, we unfortunately don’t meet up very often anymore — we’re all middle-aged, or getting there, and life has its demands. There’s not much time or energy left for running around and hanging out in bars like in the old days.
I am convinced that TAAK’s music can appeal to listeners beyond Estonia. Are you aware of this? Will you promote the album more internationally, or will you focus mainly on the domestic scene?
Kristjan: For some reason, over the years we’ve come to the conclusion that outside the Estonian-speaking cultural sphere, we’re not particularly popular. Maybe we’re wrong about that. Still, we’ve somehow arrived at the feeling that, since the meaning and message of our lyrics play an important role in our music — and we don’t use vocals as just another instrument, but rather to deliver a message — we haven’t really felt that there would be many listeners among people who don’t understand Estonian.
We do play in Finland from time to time, which makes sense, since Finns can understand Estonian if they really want to and put in the effort. But we don’t go there very often either. Our impression has remained that, for everyone who doesn’t speak Estonian, we’re a strange band playing strange music in a strange language, trying to tell them something. So, with a few small exceptions, most of our promotion — as much as our means and skills allow — is aimed at our home audience.
Roughly fifteen years ago, I was in Estonia and met a lot of musicians there – I still keep in touch with them to this day. I was fascinated by how many quality bands were active in your country back then. How is it today? Are talented bands still emerging in Estonia?
Kristjan: Yes, a surprisingly large number of new, interesting, and active bands are emerging from our scene. In the past, many sort of successful Estonian bands mainly just had that certain something that was needed to draw attention. Nowadays, it’s increasingly clear that bands are coming together with the “whole package” — and on top of that, it shows that they’re hardworking, focused, and systematic in pursuing their goals. They think through their performance and all the details of their live act, work with internationally recognized sound engineers, put effort into building contacts abroad, and so on. In short, I believe that several bands from here could achieve international success — as much as is possible within the alternative music scene.
I would like to visit your country again. Would I find Estonia as it was fifteen years ago? What has changed the most since then?
Kristjan: Well, I think Estonian society has changed quite a bit over the past fifteen years, just like the rest of the world. Not all changes, in my opinion, have been for the better, but then again, the grass was always greener and the sky bluer back in the day.
We don’t have earthquakes, and the volcanoes don’t erupt, so in terms of the general environment, the cityscape hasn’t changed that much — it’s just the usual urban development you see everywhere.
Looking at the alternative scene, you probably won’t find some of the clubs you could visit fifteen years ago. Luckily, new ones have appeared, and I could generally say that Tallinn has actually gained quite a few active venues and events to visit over these fifteen years. So in that sense, there’s nothing to complain about — if only there were enough people to fill them all.
In what ways can TAAK’s recordings be obtained? Will ‘Surmalaev’ also be released on LP?
Kristjan: As of now, I have to say that Surmalaev is only available in CD format. The album can be purchased from abroad, for example, through the Estonian online store LASERING (https://www.lasering.ee/taak-surmalaev-cd.html). At the moment, it’s also possible to order almost all of our albums for international delivery from there. Other online stores that carry our releases, to my understanding, only serve neighboring countries. If anyone has trouble ordering the album, they can always kindly send us a message via our Facebook page or email, and we’ll find a solution.
What are your nearest plans? Is a concert tour across European countries within your possibilities? Do you have such ambitions?
Kristjan: There are no big plans – we’ll do our promo rounds, try to draw as much constructive attention as possible, play some shows to present the new album, and then bask in the shining light of glory, resting on our laurels.
A European tour is certainly an option and feasible, but it’s not a primary ambition. It would be nice, and we could go, but at our level, we would have to organize everything ourselves, and no one is going to deliver a nightliner to our door. My impression is that such undertakings have become increasingly complicated over time. Our ambitions would probably, first and foremost, focus on nearby countries – Latvia, Lithuania, Finland. You can manage a weekend there 😉 with less long driving, waiting around, and living out of a bag. We’ve seen this over our long journey, so that side of a “European tour” isn’t particularly appealing, and it’s always a consideration for us.
Thank you very much for the interview, I wish you all the best on your further musical journey…
Kristjan: You’re welcome, and thanks for your attention. Keep it up, and all the best to you and your readers.
ALL