Estonians can truly compose – especially for voice

The human voice can be irritating, off-key, and fragile. But it can also be personal, engaging, and overwhelming. And suddenly, during the final concert of the Estonian Music Days festival, a small, intimate window opened onto a peculiar and enigmatic musical language. We peered into the shadowy and mysterious world of micro-intervals.

Despite being only 1.3 million people, Estonians live in a musically rich society – so diverse and fertile that they host an annual contemporary music festival spanning eight to nine days, featuring primarily works by Estonian composers. This year’s edition included over 17 concerts with around 60 different composers, all taking place in the capital Tallinn and in Tartu, roughly 200 km inland.

Estonia has a unique singing tradition that dates back hundreds of years

In Denmark, experimentation and originality are often viewed as artistic ideals. In Estonia, however, these are not always central concerns. Perhaps that’s why new music there often feels freer – because composers aren’t pressured to be unique every time. Within this framework, something original often emerges, particularly in vocal music, as was evident at this year’s festival. And that’s no coincidence.

Wisdom, vitality, and young voices from the East

Estonia has a unique singing tradition that dates back hundreds of years but took on a distinctive character during what would later be called the »Singing Revolution«, when tens of thousands gathered at night festivals to sing against Soviet rule with shared national songs. A minor-key, melancholic, folksy, and non-violent resistance. This was possible only because Estonians have these songs ingrained in their very being. Hence, their highly developed choral culture, represented this year by the 45-member professional Estonian National Male Choir – quite a rarity with daily rehearsals and full-time salaries (albeit modest) for all singers.

In St. John’s Church in Tartu, the choir delivered a powerful and memorable concert featuring a wide-ranging selection of works by Estonian composers from 2001 to 2024.

The concert opened with relatively conventional works: Tõnis Kaumann’s Hanna kiidulaul (Song of Hannah, 2021) rested on a tonal foundation, yet frequent modulations created a sustained melodic drive. Aare Kruusimäe’s two pieces from 2008 also didn’t feel particularly contemporary – sometimes verging on late Romantic – but their nuanced dynamics lent them a refined depth. Conductor Mikk Üleoja impressed with his masterful use of rubato, subtly supporting the musical layers.

»Does the world become wiser – or perhaps more magical – simply by repeating the word wisdom in music?«

The highlight, however, was Tarkuse laulud (Songs of Wisdom) from 2024 by Timo Steiner, where both humor and vital unpredictability broke with traditional expression. The text, taken from the Book of Proverbs, revolved around the concept of wisdom – repeating the phrase »Tarkus ja Tarkus« (Wisdom and wisdom) as a kind of meditative mantra passing through all voices. Steiner asked: »Does the world become wiser – or perhaps more magical – simply by repeating the word wisdom in music?« In many ways, the answer was a clear yes. Particularly in three moments of the 12-minute piece where quarter tones in the middle voices were used to magical effect. These subtle shifts in intonation blurred the line between intellect and emotional perception. It was a magical moment, and I walked away feeling slightly wiser.

The male choir – often divided into up to eight parts and featuring soloists – has only recorded a limited amount of this newer repertoire, which is a shame. These works deserve to be widely available on recordings.

»We must fight to protect freedom for others who are currently experiencing deportation«

Before the male choir concert, the annual composers’ competition took place in Tartu, presenting short pieces by ten young composition students. Some included political undertones – such as Rocco Liiva’s Sibiria, commemorating victims of Soviet deportations to Siberia. The composer noted in the program that »as Estonians, we have a unique opportunity to see the world through the eyes of oppressed groups, and we must fight to protect freedom for others who are currently experiencing deportation.«

The piece – featuring sirens, whispers, and moments of physical discomfort from soprano, saxophone, and piano – won second prize. Being Russia’s neighbor leaves its mark on Estonian art. A fertile and burgeoning group of young composers, all aged 17–22.

Legendary Arditti flown in

The official headline act of the festival was the famous Arditti Quartet, who since 1970 have championed new works for string quartet. This was only their second performance in Estonia, so securing them for Tallinn was a real coup. They also held a masterclass at the Conservatory. Nina Šenk’s To see a World in a grain of sand (2022) felt a bit unfocused in its structure, and I found Helena Tulve’s nec ros, nec pluvia… (2004) rather dry and austere.

But online program notes (not always available in English) explained that Tulve was inspired by Le Clézio’s poem »The Desert«, which gave the piece more depth.

In a classical Estonian radio interview, the quartet had described this piece as their »party piece«

The evening’s main work was Helmut Lachenmann’s String Quartet No. 3 »Grido«, written for Arditti. In a classical Estonian radio interview, the quartet had described this piece as their »party piece«, which they’ve performed over 700 times since 2002. Their interpretation was intense and dynamically well-shaped.

At a live radio broadcast from the Estonian National Broadcasting studio with the Tallinn Chamber Orchestra, Kristjan Kõrver added humor to the music in Sõnatute õhkamistega (With sighs too deep for words), which was also a world premiere. Liik’s brand-new Lahtirullumine (Unfolding) for piano and chamber orchestra was a sparkling little gem, building energetically from the piano. Most accessible musically was Lauri Jõeleht’s newly composed cello concerto in five movements – reminiscent of both Sibelius and Shostakovich, had they lived 20 years longer. That’s both praise and a note that this is not truly contemporary music – but nevertheless excellent craftsmanship.

It was a joy to hear Lepo Sumera’s powerful Symphōnē (1998), though the chamber orchestra’s strings struggled slightly with the fast passages. Better recordings exist. The concert was broadcast live on Klassikaraadio and is still available for streaming.

That’s both praise and a note that this is not truly contemporary music – but nevertheless excellent craftsmanship

The festival also featured a less successful concert with electronic music at the House of the Blackheads in Tallinn. Five members of the Estonian Electronic Music Society performed newly created works based on laptop-generated loops.

Unfortunately, repetition wore thin, and the musical ideas lacked the substance to sustain their duration. Electronic composition is clearly still developing here.

This makes contemporary music in Estonia more polyphonic than, say, in Denmark

Voices in polyphonic motion

Another key element of Estonian compositional style traces back to their choral traditions. When writing for choir, the human voice limits how experimental one can get. You can’t strike a soundbox, retune strings, perforate a piano soundboard, or remove a brass mouthpiece. The range of technical possibilities is broader for instruments than for voices. With a stronger emphasis on musical craftsmanship than performative elements, Estonian composers often think in voice-leading – even when writing for instruments. This makes contemporary music in Estonia more polyphonic than, say, in Denmark.

The six singers performed miniature masterpieces requiring immense vocal skill

I consistently experienced a strong focus on musical counterpoint at all concerts – especially in the male choir performance, but most profoundly during an overwhelming concert by the Finnish-Estonian Vicentino Singers, which closed the festival in a small, cloistered space in the heart of Tallinn. The six singers performed miniature masterpieces requiring immense vocal skill.

Norwegian-Finnish composer Tze Yeung Ho’s brilliant Intermezzi was a surreal piece of music theatre, featuring multilingual court scenes where a woman is interrogated by police, leaving questions of guilt and justice suspended. The disjointed tonality underscored the narrative’s non-linearity. Though not everything was immediately intelligible, it was clearly the work of an exciting compositional mind. Tze Yeung Ho, who studied in Estonia, is already a recognized name – including in Seismograf – and I’ll certainly be following his work closely.

A small masterpiece, which I’ve listened to many times since

Finnish-Romanian composer Sebastian Dumitrescu pushed listeners with his use of the extended meantone tuning system from the Renaissance – dividing an octave into 31 steps. The result was astonishingly beautiful in three madrigal fragments titled Flame and Shadow. In the second madrigal, the English words »To look into the eye of the night« suddenly appeared, conjuring the feeling of gazing directly into the microtonal, esoteric darkness where light rarely reaches. Exquisite.

History, innovation, and deep human presence

The most surprising masterpiece was a love poem by the Persian poet Rumi, set to music by Helena Tulve. You and I was sonically overwhelming, with easily understandable English lyrics seamlessly woven into the musical texture. Tulve used an Arabic scale, often descending, beginning with a major third and falling a tone and a half to a note just a semitone above the tonic. This broke traditional major/minor tonality and created a longing, melancholic character – perfect for a 13th-century Sufi love song. A small masterpiece, which I’ve listened to many times since. Both the concert version and the 2020 premiere with Vox Clamantis are available on YouTube.

The Vicentino Singers took turns conducting themselves from behind the music stand, making their interpretation of You and I more organic and personal than the premiere by the larger choir. The final concert encapsulated the festival’s intimate and personal tone, where Estonia’s rich choral tradition met contemporary musical innovation.

Estonian Music Days clearly showed how composition here balances history, innovation, and deep human presence – and left a strong, lasting impression.

Estonian Music Days, Tallinn, April 25–May 4

English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek